Chanel Cleeton - I See London

Samir’s lips drifted to my cheek. I froze, no longer dancing, hovering on the brink of what would happen next. We stood there together, our bodies pressed against each other, unmoving.

Somehow I knew he was going to kiss me. I don’t know how I knew it was coming, but some instinct in me just knew. I blamed the champagne for the fact that I didn’t move away. Or maybe it was just my own curiosity. Or maybe it was the desire I saw reflected in his eyes.

Samir’s lips brushed against mine, soft at first. Teasing. Then more insistent, his tongue brushing against mine, licking into my mouth, bolder now, his mouth opening wider, the kiss deepening. It wasn’t anything like I expected for my first kiss. It was hot and reckless and completely unexpected. It only took me a beat to catch up before my mouth moved against his. I had no idea what to do, if I was even doing it right, but none of that seemed to matter anymore. Instead I just felt, giving myself over to his lips, his hands, his body. My needs.

His body still pressing against me, he maneuvered me through the crowd, his hands in my hair, his lips devouring mine. We bumped into people, neither one of us bothering to break apart. He sucked on my bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth, giving me soft little bites, following the motion with the soothing sweep of his tongue.

I moaned against his mouth. I wanted more. More kissing, more touching. More.

This was unfuckingbelievable.

The wall pressed against my back. My eyes fluttered open. Samir had guided me into a dark corner, just off the dance floor. His body blocked out most of the crowd, his lips made the rest of the club disappear. His hands were everywhere, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Parts of my body I never knew could be sensitive tingled—the curve of my neck, my collarbone, the little spot behind my earlobe. I had no idea what I was doing but somewhere along the way, between the dancing and this, I’d learned the moves. He was good. Very, very good. And I never wanted him to stop.

His hands played with the neckline of my dress, his fingers trailing along my skin, dipping underneath the fabric. They hovered dangerously close to my breast.

And then suddenly he wasn’t touching me at all.

Samir broke apart from the kiss first. My eyes widened, staring at him in breathless anticipation, frustration flooding my body. My gaze drifted to a point just over his shoulder. An enormous guy dressed in a black T-shirt stood in front of us, scowling, his beefy arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked like a bouncer. I didn’t hear what Samir said to the guy, but money changed hands. The bouncer disappeared.

Samir turned back to me, his expression hooded, those eyes that just minutes ago were drunk with lust, now unreadable. I stared at Samir; pretty sure my expression nearly mirrored his. He stared back at me, something that might have been shock flashing across his face. It was there for only an instant before his cocky smile slipped back into place.

“Sorry. Got carried away.”

I couldn’t speak. Could barely think. Music pumped through the club. The pounding sound mimicked the mad thumping in my heart. A girl bumped into me. I stumbled forward. Samir reached out, catching me. “Want to go sit down?”

I nodded, my brain still running in circles, my body a mass of confusion. As soon as he pulled away from me it was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over me. What had I just done—what had I nearly let him do—in public? The worst part? As horrified as I was that we’d even started making out, part of me was just as upset we’d stopped.

What the fuck?

Samir walked me back to the table, his arm around me keeping me from stumbling. Just that touch was enough to send another wave of desire running through me. I tried not to lean into the curve of his body.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” I blurted out, struggling to not freak out. I was the new girl. The last thing I needed was for Fleur to hate me more than she already did.

Making out with her boyfriend was likely a hanging offense.

“Promise,” I repeated, my tone desperate.

For a second something flickered in Samir’s eyes. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. “Sure. Have it your way.” He hesitated for a beat, his gaze running over me. “I’m going to go say hi to some friends at another table.” He placed a swift kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for the dance.” He winked. “And everything else.”

I watched him walk away, my jaw hanging open in shock. I somehow still couldn’t wrap my mind around what had just happened. My first kiss wasn’t supposed to be like this. I’d had it all planned out. I was supposed to go to Harvard, meet the guy at Harvard. He would be my first kiss, the guy I would have sex with for the first time, the guy I would eventually marry. Maybe it sounded naive, but I didn’t care. I had it all planned out. This had definitely not been in my plans.

I ran my fingers over my lips. They felt soft, swollen. My breasts felt sensitive, my nipples tight. My body felt as if it belonged to someone else. No one had ever touched me like that before. I’d never wanted anyone to.

“Where’d you go?”

I jerked my hand away from my lips. Mya stood in front of me, a bottle of water in her hand.

“Bathroom,” I lied. “I just needed to get away from the loud music and everything.”

“I think we’re about ready to go soon. Michael is gathering the group.”

I took the water from her, taking a long swig from the bottle. Mya plopped down next to me on one of the stools.

“Do you know where everyone else is?”

I wasn’t going to fess up to knowing anything about Samir’s whereabouts. “No idea.”

Mya groaned. “Well, I’m leaving in fifteen minutes regardless of who is ready to go. I’m exhausted and my feet are killing me.”

“Same.”

“You ladies had enough for the night?” Michael appeared in front of us.

I nodded, beyond relieved to see him. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired.”

“Come on, then. We can make our exit. The rest of the group can find their own way home.”

My hand clutched in his, I followed Michael out of the club. Mya trailed behind us, her hand pressed against my back. I turned my head to the right, my gaze drifting across the room to the tables pushed up against the far wall.

I couldn’t help it.

Samir sat at one of the tables, two blonde girls flanking him, his arms wrapped around their lithe bodies. His head jerked up and he met my gaze across the crowded room. Heat flared between us. I tore my gaze away.

So much for my first kiss.

Firsts. There was something about the first day of school. Today felt like the start of everything, not just the start of classes. Today was the day I would finally get to take the classes I wanted to take, to focus on subjects I actually cared about rather than having to sit through boring biology classes and the like.

My inner nerd hummed with excitement.

I stood in front of my small wardrobe, desperately trying to decide what to wear. When I packed for London, my clothes had seemed decent enough. But after Saturday’s party I began to realize fashion was a serious business at the International School. And I had no idea how to play the game. These were the moments when I wished I had a mom.

“That really doesn’t go together.”

I gritted my teeth, not bothering to turn around and look at Fleur. “Gee, thanks. I hadn’t realized.”

Her hand reached out, thrusting something orange and pink in my line of sight. “Try this. It’ll help the outfit out.” Fleur paused. “Without it you look a little sad.”

I grabbed the scarf out of her hand. I had ten minutes to get to my classroom building. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than being late on the first day.