Adored in Oman (Book 2 in Teach Me, Love Me Series): Interracial Romance (5 page)

Abdulla was counting baskets, while Shan was across town realizing he was trustworthy. He and his butler were about to load up the coolers with water and juice, once he was sure he had enough baskets for his family’s staff.

There was the sweets basket that went to each household, filled with chocolates, sweet breads and candies. They were the smallest. Also, each household received a fruit basket, which was a bit larger than the sweets basket. The final basket, which was the largest, had many items from their home country such as spices, oils and specialty items, including toys for their children.

Two goats and two sheep had been butchered and the meat divided between the households. That would be delivered by the butchery, a fact which made Abdulla glad, as packaging fresh meat was a pain. There is just no way to make it look like a gift.

When he first graduated from University, his father had given him this job and said that, “The blessed owe a blessing. Make sure you never bless less than you would like to be blessed,” and Abdulla had taken that to heart.

This outpouring was one of his favorite times of year. The staff made his family’s life very comfortable and was helpful in countless ways. While they were paid to perform these services, it is never out of order to show appreciation for good work.

Abdulla wanted to always present his family and their faith practice in the best, most honorable light possible and this duty was something he took very seriously. Fully satisfied he had enough baskets and no one had been forgotten, he and his butler filled mini coolers with water and juice. First thing in the morning, they would top the coolers with ice and by the time they had delivered them, all the drinks would be cold.

With baskets and coolers ready for the next day’s runs, Abdulla then went to his home gym for a quick workout while his bags were packed for the weekend. He made sure Ahmed knew to pack at least one Western outfit per day. He didn’t want to be too noticeable when he visited Shan at the Rotana. His father and uncle were open-minded, but he knew they expected him to protect her reputation and not expose her to unnecessary scorn. It might be 2015, but they still lived in conservative countries and there were laws to be respected. Discretion was key.

One hour later, sweaty and feeling slightly less keyed up; Abdulla was showering and berating himself for failing to make plans to spend the last Iftar of Ramadan with Shan. He knew she liked to plan things in advance, but he hoped she would be flexible and come on over to his family villa and spend the evening in fellowship. That is, if she was finished baking, packing, and cleaning. Her To Do list was no shorter than his and she didn’t have anyone to help her. He had offered to send a girl to help with the cleaning, but she assured him she could manage and if she wanted a cleaner, she had one she used and whose work was pleasing.

As soon as he was dried and dressed, Abdulla called Shan.

“Hey there handsome!” she answered cheekily.

“Hello to you beautiful,” Abdulla responded in kind.

“Look, I know we have not planned for tonight, but I would like you to come to the last Iftar of the fast. My family would be glad to have you and I don’t want to spend this night away from you wondering what you are doing. Is this okay with you?”

Shan paused before answering because she had assumed that was the plan. As she realized that, she laughed, “Of course, I would be happy to. I sure am glad you asked, because I have been running around this flat trying to finish my To Do list just in case you invited me at the last minute. How funny is that?”

“It is clear you know I want you with me always. I will see you in thirty minutes. Thank you for saying yes,” Abdulla said.

“You did tell me that you would get to know me well enough to avoid me saying no too often, I guess you were right!” Shan laughed.

“See? We are meant to be. It is destined,” were Abdulla’s final words before they said their goodbyes.

Smiling with the phone in her hand, Shan thought about that word, destined. She was tired of trying to keep her emotional distance and right then she decided not to worry, she was choosing Abood. Shan thought, “Destined. That just may be right.”

Rousing herself from her motionless state, she quickly showered and dressed herself. She was ready when he knocked on the door.

Abdulla’s eyes widened when Shan opened the door. She wasn’t very tall, but she was beautifully proportioned. The open abaya she was wearing concealed everything very craftily. However, she had answered the door before she closed the buttons that ran down the center of the gown.

“Wait,” he croaked out as Shan was busily concealing her form.

Leaning her head to the side, she said, “Wait for what?” looking at him, her hands still.

“Let me get a good look at you. What is that garment you are wearing called?”

“Oh, it’s a cat suit. I used to wear them all the time, before I got used to the extremely cold setting of the air conditioning. It is extremely comfortable and I can wear it for hours, sitting or standing or dancing. It is made of very soft, stretchy material, similar to a leotard,” she explained as he reached his hand out to reverse the process she had begun.

“Abood,” she purred, her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

“I just want a good look at this cat suit before it disappears beneath this very lovely abaya,” he murmured as he slid the gown off her shoulders and tossed it over a nearby chair.

“Allah, help me,” he thought as he looked at her from head to toe. The suit hugged her outrageous curves. Breasts molded and jutting out from a mostly flat tummy with a waistline that flared into generous hips and amazing thighs. Bright blue toenails peeped out from her wedge heel sandals. Trailing his hand over one leg he looked at her and said, “I see someone has been doing squats.”

Breathless, she replied, “I don’t do squats, they hurt my knees. These legs are courtesy of holding plank positions.”

“Oh? I wonder what other positions you can hold for an extended period of time?” he casually asked.

Shan’s nipples immediately tightened. Her first thought was, “Thank God I packed lingerie!” Her second thought was, “I wonder if he is going to wait until Wednesday?”

“Abood, time will tell,” she began as she stepped closer to him and allowed him to put his hands on her hips.

Leaning forward, her breasts just brushing against his chest wall as she raised herself on her toes, Shan kissed the edge of his jaw. His neatly trimmed beard tickled and he smelled good enough to eat slowly.

Abdulla reached for his willpower and found it cowering in the corner of his heart, ready to give up the fight and allow his libido free reign; thankfully, he remembered his family was waiting.

Pulling her closer, Abdulla kissed her very firmly on the lips and bit her neck before leaning to pick up her abaya from the chair where he had tossed it seconds ago. Still standing so close they were touching; he helped her slide the garment back up her arms and to her shoulders.

Stepping backward to sit on the chair, he pulled her by the edge of the gown to stand before him, between his knees.

Sliding his hands from her hips, up her waist line, lightly skimming her breasts and cupping her shoulders he told her, “I like this cat suit, very much. We will have to get you one in each of my favorite colors.”

Then, leaning forward, he inhaled the scent coming from her skin. Smiling, he identified her body oil, “Roses. You know I love this on your skin.”

At her slow nod, he resumed buttoning the abaya in an agonizingly slow fashion. Shan’s skin was hot and felt too tight to contain the emotion scurrying along her nerve endings. She felt an inner throbbing in her secret place and her thighs were clenching together, as if to keep her legs from flying open at the least provocation.

Her one thought was, “When we finally get on our hands on each other, we are going to burn the sheets off the bed.” The question of intimacy had been more than answered. This little road trip was going to be more than a vacation; it was going to take them in a new direction emotionally.

Abaya buttoned up, Abdulla grabbed her by the hand and practically fled her apartment. He was having a hard time acknowledging how little temptation he needed. She hadn’t done anything more than open the door. What she was wearing under the abaya was definitely alluring and left nothing to the imagination concerning the shape of her figure; it had started his fantasy motor. He knew how her body was shaped; after all, he had met her in a bathing suit. However, something about that one outfit made him want to touch her, hold her, and peel her out of it!

He wanted to see how soft her skin was and wondered if she tasted as good as she smelled. He wanted to touch her hair with both hands and wrap the long locs around his fingers, hands and arms. He wanted to feel her legs wrapped around his hips and see her trembling from his lips and fingers and tongue. He wanted her arms and legs open and welcoming, him; as if he had arrived to a new home, built by her love and filled with everything he needed. Yes, he wanted her. Not just for a little while and not just a little bit of her heart, Abdulla wanted it all and as he helped her into the car and began the drive to his family villa he knew she was going to have to share her past. He had to know what he was up against. What ghost needed slaying?

About five minutes into the drive, Shan said, “I’m going to tell you something.”

With an eyebrow raised, Abdulla gave her a quick look and said, “I’m listening.”

“I agreed when we had our first date to tell you what happened in my marriage. I don’t like to tell this story. It reminds me how foolish and sick with hurt I was. I always feel just a little bit of those emotions when I retell it.”

Abdulla nodded, not daring to speak, lest she change her mind.

“I will tell you about the day I caught my husband face down in another woman’s crotch.”

Still listening and driving, Abdulla simply nodded. Noticing she was twisting her hands together, he reached over and covered them. She stopped twisting, but was unable to release the tension and it was obvious in the set of her shoulders.

“I found them at my house.”

Grand Prairie, Texas

Spring 2005

Shan was finishing her coffee at the Starbucks around the corner from her house. She and Jack had only been there about a year. They had felt lucky to qualify for the home loan with the economy in the tank and were justifiably proud of their little home.

Lately, Shan had noticed Jack seemed preoccupied and not very plugged into their family life. It was odd because they had not been married that long and she was not even remotely shy in the bedroom plus they had decided to postpone children for another two years, to give them time to rebuild their nest egg. So, two of the most common stressors, infrequent sex and children were not their issue.

Still, something was nagging at her. She didn’t believe him when he said he was tired and swamped at work. She had been to his office, it was a well-run accounting firm and even during tax season, it never seemed the volume exceeded the capabilities of the team. He was hiding something. He had seemed oddly hyper when she left this morning. She had heard him call in and claim to have some personal business this morning and would only be available by phone, before noon. She had not really asked a lot of questions, assuming he did have some personal business. Yet, she could not get the butterflies flitting about inside her tummy to settle down. As she pulled out to head to the office, a text lit her phone. It was an unidentified number and it read, “Mrs.
Greiner
, you have a lovely home. Muah!”

Hm. Games. If there was one being played, she better find out right now. Ten minutes later she was parked behind a strange car in her driveway.

Carmen was tired of being The Other Woman. She was tired of visiting this beautiful place that looked made for a family and having to leave. She was tired of looking this woman in the face every day at work and longing to be in her place. She could never really say what made her jealous of Shan. She had a glow about her that was infuriating. She didn’t broadcast her troubles. She was always smiling. She was smart. She had a quick wit, so her social footing was sure and few people were willing to engage her in a battle of words. She was good at setting conversational traps and allowing folks to make their own selves look stupid. She seemed just slightly too good.

Carmen started watching her with an envious eye. Mostly, she was just waiting for her to make some sort of mistake that she could use to weaken the esteem others in the office had for her. She had tried to make her look like a snob at an after-hours client dinner, but had only looked petty for teasing her about not drinking at a work event. She remembered it.

“Shan, are you too good to drink with the sales folk? Just one won’t hurt,” Carmen urged. “Don’t be a spoil sport.”

“Spoil sport? I hardly think so, since the company card is paying. Charlotte can drink as much as she likes and with my blessing. You are also free to do so, however, one of us has to be able to reflect upon this dinner meeting with clarity and accuracy. I don’t drink at work. Period.” Shan responded, without raising her voice or changing the inflection of her tone. She just stated a fact and changed the subject.

Carmen had been furious. She felt it was a backhanded jab, designed to suggest she was unprofessional and incapable of recalling any agreements if she had a couple of drinks. Also, she felt Shan was trying to mock her and suggest she was running up the tab because she knew the company would be paying. From that moment, she felt there had been a little war between them. Shan was completely out of the loop on this entire scenario. As far as she knew, Carmen was an extremely competent sales lead and never failed to talk clients into serious advertising buys with multi-platform media. Until she walked into her house that day, she never really gave Carmen much thought outside of work. If asked, she would have described her as a beautiful, smart, tough woman.

Shan entered the house through the front door, so as to avoid alerting anyone she was home. The house was small enough that you could hear the garage if you were in the front of the house. However, no one was in the front.

Shan walked down the hallway. She was sweating and her keys were fisted in her palm. She had her phone just in case she needed to call the police. Her body was trembling and throat felt tight. She could hear low speaking, but could not quite make out the words. As she approached her open bedroom door she could quite clearly hear what was being said.

“Oh, Jack, yes. Yes. Make love to me. I’ve been waiting all week. Yes, yes, yes. Give it to me baby.”

Shan gripped her keys and phone tighter as she leaned against the wall. She could feel her entire body shaking and thought her coffee might make an unplanned reappearance. She got on her knees, put her head on the floor and took deep breaths. She listened to some woman who sounded familiar moan and whisper encouragement to her husband.

“Lick it baby. Just like that, I’m going to come. I’m going to come all over these sheets. Oh, baby, yes, that feels so good. You make me feel so good. I love you.”