“Are we getting on those?”
Imaad grinned devilishly. “Of course.”
The car came to a stop and Annabelle pushed the door open, a hot blast of sandy air greeting her. It took her a moment to acclimate, then she scuffed through the hard, sandy soil, following Imaad toward the men.
There was a short exchange in Farsi, and then a man with a headscarf led them to the waiting camels. Imaad slung his sporty backpack over his shoulders and then mounted the camel like he’d been doing it since birth. Annabelle blinked up at him, shielding her eyes against the sun.
“You seriously expect me to get on this?” She pointed at the camel nearby who eyed her suspiciously.
“Up you go.” He nodded toward the men, who approached to help her on. Before she knew it, strong hands lifted her up, and then she was grasping the bloated bump of the saddle, shrieking from the top of the camel.
“Holy shit.” She clung to the saddle hump, body tense. The men loaded her purse in the saddlebag, and then handed her a silky scarf, gesturing that she wrap it around her head like theirs. Imaad received one as well, and she followed his lead by wrapping it over her face. The creature lurched into motion. She squeezed her legs around its warm body, screaming once.
Imaad looked back at her, grinning like a fool. “Don’t tell me this is your first camel ride.”
She grimaced, watching the tawny neck of the beast as it lumbered forward, wondering if it even wanted to be carrying her. “Where the hell am I going to ride a camel in New York City, Imaad?”
His soft chuckle made her body buzz. He looked like a natural on his mount. They plodded forward, and after a few gasps and some rearranging to her woman parts, she thought maybe she could get used to it. Maybe.
Annabelle looked around. They were on their own out here. “Why didn’t the other guys come with us? Are we allowed to be out here by ourselves?”
Imaad laughed again. “Of course. It’s the desert. We can go anywhere we want.”
“But not too far, right?” Nervousness prickled through her. Was this a game to him? Throw the type-A girl into the salt desert, one day after she found out she’d been promised in marriage against her will?
“I’ve been coming to this desert since I was a boy. My grandfather brought me. You don’t have to worry.” He looked back at her, his easy grin soothing. “I’m as experienced a guide as they come.”
She nodded, looking around. Her grandpa had taken her to a water park once or twice. Nothing that doubled as the set for Aladdin. “That’s cool. You look pretty natural on the camel, too. You must be a pro.”
They fell into a quiet rhythm, the lurching of the camel beneath her, the hot sun beating down, occasional fragments of conversation that felt more like two friends than their bizarre real-life situation. She watched, licking her lips, as Imaad’s hips rhythmically shifted in the saddle. Damn. Not a smart idea. Now she wouldn’t be able to stop imagining him making those moves above her.
After a pleasant ride broken only by the huffing of the camel and the infrequent blast of the hot breeze, a tent emerged on the horizon. Imaad pointed.
“That’s where we’re going. This is something not a lot of tourists get to see. It’s an oasis. I thought you might like it.”
Like a mirage, a large pond emerged on the horizon, glittering blue in the sunlight. Sprigs of green surrounded it, and sandy dunes lined the oasis on almost all sides. An upscale Bedouin-style tent sat, flaps pulled back, the dark brown fabric peaking in the center, overlooking the oasis. Tortured rusty landscape yawned away from the oasis in every direction. The camp was the only sign of civilization.
“This is certainly off the beaten trail.” Annabelle pushed her sunglasses higher up on her nose. For how blazingly hot it was, she was sweating only minimally. Her flowy long-sleeve shirt had been a good choice. Though she wondered if stripping to nothing later on would be a good choice. The throbbing between her legs said it might be.
Her gaze drifted back to the tight apples of Imaad’s ass. She wanted to touch it. Just once. As they approached the
tents, Imaad stilled both camels. He dismounted first and then came to her side, smiling up at her.
“Ready to get off your first camel?”
She chewed at her bottom lip. “Maybe if you have a crane somewhere around here.”
Imaad said something to the camel in Farsi, and the beast knelt down. It was somehow regal. “Come on.” He held up his hands. “I’ll help you off.”
She reached for a hand, steadying herself as she shifted her center of gravity. His hands slid to her waist as she swung a leg over the saddle, his touch scorching through her. She drew a shaky breath and then slowly ceded control. He lowered her to the ground softly, his breath coming out in a soft puff at her forehead.
“Not so bad, was it?” He jerked his head toward the tent but she couldn’t look away from the black stubble on his jawline. “Let’s go make some dinner.”
8
Annabelle leaned back on her hands, gazing up at the dusky sky. The sun was setting in brilliant crests of shocking red and burnt orange, a heavy layer of cobalt night sky threatening at the edges.
“This is the grand finale,” Imaad said. He sat cross-legged in his chinos, impeccably handsome in this rustic setting. He’d laid out an enormous blanket over the sand, big enough for them to lie on. Their tent sat several dozen yards away, a small fire lit near the edge of the camp site.