Chapter 22
The Rolls-Royce purred to a stop at the foot of the Burj Al Arab Jumeirah, the sail-shaped silhouette of the hotel glowing against the velvet Dubai night.
Savannah stepped out into the warm breeze off the Arabian Gulf.
It brushed over her skin, stirring the hem of her long red dress.
For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel the usual ache of exhaustion after a performance.
Instead, there was energy humming beneath her skin.
An exhilaration that hadn’t been there in years.
Her mother’s words still echoed in her chest, loosening something long held tight.
Giving her a purpose, almost as if she’d been granted permission.
For what? She hadn’t worked that out yet.
She glanced up at the tower, its sleek curves lit in soft hues of gold and sapphire, as though the entire building breathed luxury.
Inside, the lobby shimmered with gold-leaf columns and fountains that danced under the atrium’s soaring height.
The air was scented with jasmine and something richer.
If opulence could have a scent, Savannah thought it would be this.
Her heels clicked softly on polished marble as she walked beside Sawyer, their steps in sync, his presence grounding her even as the hotel sparkled like a dream around them.
The elevator ascended with silent grace, the sea unfolding below through the glass walls like a living painting.
Savannah turned slightly, catching Sawyer’s reflection beside hers, tall and steady.
Her chest tightened, not with nerves, but with clarity.
She was done pretending indifference. Tonight, she would stop hiding from her own heart.
The doors opened to their floor, and as they stepped into the private corridor leading to their suite, she felt it. The shift. Not just in the air, but in herself. She was ready.
Savannah stepped into the suite past the iPad that rested on a pedestal, waiting to summon anything from champagne to a private chef.
She felt the hush of wealth press around her.
Throughout this tour, she’d stayed in stunning hotels across Europe, but nothing had prepared her for this.
The Presidential Suite wasn’t simply a room. It was a room fit for royalty.
Marble gleamed beneath her heels, polished to a mirror finish that reflected the gold filigree trim. The ceiling arched overhead in soaring curves. To the left, a winding staircase spiraled upward, leading to the private bedroom floor.
Her favorite part, of course, with the grand piano that sat near the panoramic window. Her fingers itched to play it, but that would have to wait. Past the wall of windows, the Arabian Gulf stretched out, its dark surface reflecting the city lights, capturing her attention.
She wandered deeper, past the formal dining room with its eight-seat marble table and centerpiece of fresh orchids, into a suite of bedrooms that looked like they belonged in an Arabian fairytale.
Rich silks draped the four-poster bed and carved wood screens added an element of privacy between the sleeping area and the massive dressing rooms.
And then there was the bathroom.
No. Not bathroom. A sanctuary.
Black and white marble. A sunken tub the size of a plunge pool. Gold fixtures shaped like swans. Plush towels embroidered with the Burj’s insignia in silver thread. Hermes bath products in crystal decanters.
It should’ve felt over the top. Too much. Obscene, even. But it didn’t. It was a fantasy wrapped in a fairy tale.
She walked back out into the main living space where Sawyer waited.
He stood by the windows and Savannah took a moment to drink him in.
His boss had had a new tuxedo waiting for him by the time they’d reached Dubai since his old one had been ruined from his dip in the pool.
Plus, he never did figure out where he’d left the jacket and tie.
He turned slightly when he heard her approach. He didn’t speak at first, just waited until she came to stand beside him.
“You didn’t sleep last night,” he said softly.
Neither had he. She knew it. She saw the strain under his eyes, the weight he tried to hide behind protective silence and steel-eyed watchfulness.
“I keep thinking about Baku,” she murmured. “The people in that ballroom. The man who died. I keep seeing the blood.”
Sawyer’s jaw tightened. “Images like that have a way of staying with you,” he murmured.
She studied him and saw the shadows of past horrors in his eyes. “You’ve seen things,” she said gently, not as an accusation but an understanding. A truth she’d felt ever since the first time she saw that flicker in his eyes.
Sawyer didn’t answer right away. Then, without turning to face her, he said, “Yeah. I’ve seen things.”
She waited.
“I’ve pulled a six-year-old girl out of a collapsed building in Afghanistan. I never knew her name. I just remember the dust and blood and a stuffed rabbit clutched in her hand.” His voice was calm, almost detached, like he was reciting someone else’s story.
Savannah swallowed hard, her chest tightening.
“I’ve seen two teammates bleed out beside me while we waited for an evac that came just a little too late.” His fingers tapped once, sharply, against the window.
She lay her hand on his arm, his image blurry through the sheen of tears in her eyes. “Oh, Sawyer. I’m so sorry.”
He finally looked at her then. His eyes didn’t shine with tears, but the weight in them was worse than any break. “I see them sometimes. When it’s quiet. Or when things get too good.”
She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady, guarded thrum of his heart. “You’re allowed to feel it, Sawyer,” she said softly. “Even heroes bleed. They cry for their lost friends too.”
“I’m no hero,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.
She leaned her forehead against his. “You would say that,” she teased, a playful lilt in her voice to lighten the somber mood and dissipate the heavy sadness. “That’s what heroes always say.”
His hand lifted to gently tuck a strand of hair that had escaped the crescent shaped clip behind her ear. Their eyes met. The air changed. Charged with intimacy.
“You’ve always seen me, haven’t you” he whispered. “Even all those years ago when I didn’t know who I was.”
His hand slid down to her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across her skin. “I’ve always known who you were. Twenty years couldn’t change that.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve always mattered to me, Sawyer. Always.”
A sigh escaped his lips as he murmured, “Twenty years, Savi,” the words laced with regret. “Too much time.”
“True. But maybe we needed that time apart to find out for ourselves who we were.”
“Did you? Find out who you were?”
A barely audible snicker rumbled in her chest. “No. But I am now. And I owe that to you.”
He lifted his head away from hers to see her more fully. “How so?”
“You’re the first person to truly see me. And because of that, you give me strength and confidence that I didn’t know I was capable of.”
“You’re the strongest person I know, Savi,” he stated as if it was fact.
She closed her eyes at that. His words slipped past every wall she’d ever built, every layer of doubt and guarded silence she’d learned to wrap around her heart. “I don’t want to be strong all the time,” she said quietly. “Not with you.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just pressed his forehead back to hers, letting their breathing fall into the same quiet rhythm. Then his mouth brushed against hers. Gentle. Reverent. The kind of kiss that asked rather than took.
She kissed him back. Unreservedly. She opened for him and the kiss deepened. Now he was taking. Taking her on a journey toward unimaginable pleasure. Taking her to new heights. Taking what had always been his, even when they were too young to understand.
Their tongues dueled, teasing, tasting, and yes, taking.
Savannah let everything go and allowed herself to just feel.
She’d walled herself off for so long. A protective necessity.
Otherwise, the criticisms, the harsh words, the constant barrage of verbal abuse and emotional belittling would have ended her.
But now, in this moment, she put all that away. It didn’t have a place here. Tonight, she would scale her own wall and allow herself to feel everything.
And, my oh my, what pleasures there were to feel.
Suddenly, it was as if he was everywhere. The back of her dress swooped deep, baring her back down to her waist and his hands, warm and sure, found that skin. Shock waves of sensations rippled through her at the simple touch, and she was unable to hold back the moan.
Leaving her mouth, his lips trailed a hot path down her throat and across her collarbone.
He found the thin strap of her dress with his teeth and dragged it off her shoulder until it draped down her arm.
Continuing the blazing trail, his lips slid across her chest to the other shoulder, where he repeated the process with the remaining strap.
With nothing left to hold it up, the material fell away from her body, landing in a pool of satin at her feet, leaving her in nothing more than her skimpy thong. While she hated to wear them, she had no choice when it came to pantie lines and her gowns.
He stepped back, and she watched as he drank her in. “Look at you, Savi,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, his gaze lingering on her. “You’re like a beacon of light. Drawing me in. Shining so bright.” His breath hitched. “My Savi Moon.”
“Sawyer . . .” She was at a loss for words. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. No one had ever looked at her like that, either. And as they stood there staring at each other, she saw something that left her breathless.
A sheen of unshed tears glistened in Sawyer’s stormy eyes.
She couldn’t prevent her own tears even if she tried. And she didn’t want to stop them. The depth of her emotions matched his completely, and she felt them with the same profound intensity.
They’d been separated for twenty years, but no one could ever tear them apart again. Especially not after tonight.
Need shot through her and she could no longer keep her hands to herself.
She reached for the buttons on his tux shirt, her fingers brushing the pleats that bordered them.
As she methodically worked the buttons open, one by one, their gazes remained locked on each other, unwavering.
She tugged his shirt free from his trousers and proceeded to release the remaining buttons.
Her hands unerringly found his skin underneath the fabric. Her palms skimmed the hard, muscular planes of his stomach, then glided upwards until finally reaching his shoulders where, with a gentle push, she eased his shirt from his shoulders.
The cuffs caught at his wrists and while he was busy undoing the cufflinks, she was busy exploring. The man was a work of art. His skin possessed a deeper, richer tone than hers, and the contrast was striking; her pale hands resting against his darker skin created a mesmerizing visual effect.
Her fingers traced the contours of his skin, encountering a tapestry of nicks and scars that silently recounted a life marked by adversity and hard work.
Then, there was the more noticeable scar on his side, a larger wound that she could only assume had been inflicted by a knife. Her eyes filled with tears once more.
“I’m okay, Savi,” he assured softly. She could only nod, her throat too tight to respond as she continued to explore the planes and valleys of his body.
But she didn’t just want to touch. She wanted to taste.
Leaning in, she felt the warmth of his skin as her lips found the sweet spot where his shoulder met his neck.
She was at the perfect height to continue to brush her lips across the skin, working her way around his throat, lingering at his Adam’s apple, where she paused for a taste with a quick swipe of her tongue.
She felt more than heard the groan as it vibrated against her lips.
The sensation caused a hot streak of lust to bolt to her core.
Finally, free of his shirt, he pounced. He slid his hands beneath her thighs, and then he lifted her, the movement smooth and effortless.
Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pressed her core against him.
A gasp escaping her lips as she felt the hard, throbbing weight of him nestled against her.
Her body molded to his, as he took her mouth in another soul stealing kiss.
So lost in the kiss, she hadn’t noticed he’d carried her to the bed until the coolness of the sheets met her back.
She nearly whimpered when his lips left hers, but then he was trailing them down her body.
He found the peak of one breast and flicked his tongue across her taut nipple.
She gasped and arched, offering herself.
He suckled at her as if starved while her hands grasped for something to ground her.
She settled on grabbing his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin as she held on.
He moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention before he was on the move again.
Savannah writhed beneath him as his lips blazed a fiery path down her body.
Without preamble, he pushed her legs apart, settling his shoulders between them before diving in.
The first swipe of this tongue set her on fire.
She cried out and bucked against his mouth.
He threw one arm across her stomach to hold her securely in place while he hungrily attended to her.
He ate at her until she couldn’t even remember her own name and when her release struck, it did so in a burst of blinding sparks. He saw her through the waves as she rode them out on his face. Then, once more, he was on the move.