He looked around then placed his hand around my waist, leading me into the cockpit and shutting the door behind us.
“I can’t believe you really came.” In an instant, I was against the wall as he pressed his lips hard against mine and groaned into my mouth. I opened wide for him and relished the flavor that I’d only experienced once before—the one I thought I’d never get to taste again. Our tongues desperately explored as I ran my fingers through his hair and tugged at it.
He pulled back first. “I needed this so badly.”
Panting, I said, “That was a long fourteen hours.”
He tucked some of my hair behind my ear. “Listen, part of the reason I just attacked you like you’re my last meal…is because of where we are, okay?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Once we are off this plane and in public, we’re not allowed to touch.”
“What do you mean?”
“Things are very different in Dubai. We’re not allowed to show affection in public. We could literally get arrested. Even married people can only hold hands. Kissing or even hugging for them is considered indecent.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“You can’t swear in public, either. It’s a criminal offense.”
“Jesus, I need a drink.”
“That’s another thing. We’re only allowed to drink in hotels and clubs here.” He looked me up and down. “We need to cover you up before we go out there, too. I hope you brought that bra I bought you.”
“It’s in my suitcase.”
He took off his jacket. “Take this for now. We have to get out of here.”
Carter placed his hand on the small of my back and led me out of the cockpit.
“Where are we headed?”
He winked and flashed a mischievous grin. “I might know of a little hideaway.”
MY USUAL HIDEAWAY was booked solid. Amari had offered me the couch free of charge until one of his three bedrooms freed up the next morning. If I were alone, I’d have taken him up on it, knowing I was going to crash and be dead to the world when I got there anyway. But Kendall deserved better than sharing a couch while random strangers came and went. Plus, even the thought of anyone checking her out while she slept in her little thin nightshirt riled me up. Rather than take a chance on trying somewhere new in a place like Dubai, I took a room at the hotel the airline put the crew up in. It sure as shit wasn’t ideal, but it was safe, and I needed to get some sleep.
Outside of the airport, I steered Kendall away from the airline employee van that would have taken us to the Hilton Dubai Jumeirah Resort with the rest of the crew. I didn’t want her exposed to any more of my past indiscretions than she already had been. At the cab line, we managed to find a shared van without too much of a wait. Kendall and I sat in the rear bench seat, and the other rows were filled with people speaking something I thought might be Farsi.
The back of the seat in front of us held a plastic pouch filled with laminated Local Laws of Dubai pamphlets in different languages. I’d perused them before and figured Kendall would get a kick out it. Slipping the English version out of the seatback, I held it and pointed to the first rule: No public displays of affection. This includes kissing, cuddling, and hand holding. Her palm was flat on the seat. I checked that no one was paying attention and then slipped my hand over hers, weaving our fingers together. She gave me a sidelong look with a gleam in her eye.
Keeping her left hand entwined with mine, she reached over with her right and took the law card out of my hand. She set it on the seat and silently pointed to the second rule: Clothing should be conservative. Females must avoid wearing transparent, low cut, or short clothing. Stomach, shoulders, and back must be covered. Men must cover their chest and shall not display their underwear. She looked straight ahead, making sure that no one in the rows above us were watching, and then slowly began to hike up the skirt on the sundress she was wearing. Knowing it was illegal, and following the slow, sensual movement of her hand as she inched it up little by little, it took everything I had to stifle a groan. By the time she reached the very top of her thigh, I had to shift in my seat. I’d seen her in a fucking bikini, but this…sneaking while people were right there, was purely erotic.
With entwined hands, her skirt pushed up barely covering her underwear, she handed the card to me. Not wanting to draw attention to us by acting strange, and needing a minute to slow the swell of my cock, I spent a minute looking outside the window, pretending to be interested in anything other than the sight of her thighs and the feel of our skin on skin. Then I pointed to rule six on the card: No foul language or indecent gestures whatsoever will be tolerated. I waited until the driver was busy merging onto the highway and the family in front of us was deep in a loud conversation. Then I leaned in and whispered in her ear. “My cock is rock hard wondering if I pushed that skirt up a little higher, if you would stop me.”