“Caz,” she whispered, and he stopped trying to treat this as just another moment in his life, stopped trying to figure out what in hell was happening to him, whispered her name, bent his head to hers and kissed her.
Her mouth was sweet and soft, and when she sighed, he drew her breath in, let it mix with his. She moaned and he curved his arm around her, drew her close and deepened the kiss. A long time later, he drew back, looked into her eyes and brushed her sleep-tousled hair from her temple.
“Hello, kalila,” he whispered.
“You’re awake.”
He laughed softly. “Yes.”
She touched his hair. It was damp. “Were you outside? Is it raining?”
He took her hand, pressed it to his lips. “I took a shower. Well, I took what passes for a shower in this place. I’m afraid I used up all your water.”
A picture flashed through her mind. Qasim, tall, proud, naked. “Here?”
“You were asleep.”
“The last time I saw you, you were passed out on the floor.”
His smile dimmed. “I’m sure I was.”
“You were drunk.”
“I know, kalila. I’m so sorry, but—”
“And you asked me to call you ‘Caz.’’’
“Did I?”
She nodded. “It is a nickname?”
“My roommate dubbed me ‘Caz’ my first semester at Yale, and it seemed a lot more American than Qasim, so from then on, that’s what I called myself.”
Megan traced the tip of her finger along his mouth. In the dark, with only the soft light of the oil lamp for illumination, with the silence of the mountains all around them, anything seemed right…and she’d wanted to touch her finger to his mouth for a long time, to follow those soft curves that could spark such excitement. She knew she should be angry at him for abandoning her and getting drunk, but right now she could only think how good it felt to be in his arms.
“Ah,” she said softly, with the hint of a smile. “You didn’t mind being a little bit American then.”
“I never minded it. My mother was American.” His smile tilted. “I liked her country far more than she liked mine.”
“What happened to her?”
“She couldn’t adapt to life in Suliyam and she went home.”
“Without you?”
“Without me. Don’t look so sad, kalila. Really, I had a happy childhood.”
“Then why do you look so sad when you mention her?”
“Do I look sad?” Caz brought her hand to his mouth again. “It must be the light.” He cleared his throat, and she knew he was going to change the topic. “We can talk about this another time, Megan. Right now…right now, we have another matter to discuss.”
“Yes. We certainly do.”
Her tone had changed. Well, he could hardly blame her for being angry, and he told her so.
“I don’t blame you for being upset.”
“Upset?” She pulled away from him and rose to her feet. “I wasn’t upset,” she lied. “I just think you could have found a way to let me know you weren’t being murdered.”