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They fell into topics such as the wild ksa weather, the latest gossip about the k?thi kavaliers and how Sana’a had beaten the best of them.
They discussed their favourite meals, Killen’s face lighting up as he described his most cherished dishes.
She realised that good food was his passion as he described an array of mouthwatering, succulent grilled meats, fragrant spices, and sides of tangy pickled vegetables. His rich, descriptive and graphic speech almost brought them to life.
More so, she was captivated by the dip of his rasp and the warmth in his eyes as he painted vivid pictures with his expressions.
Oblivious to them, midnight fell, and the bar around them faded into the background.
Their conversation became more peaceful and intimate, and their sentiments took on a weight that echoed in the depths of their beings.
But beneath the surface, the unspoken tension between them quickened.
Their eyes often clashed, gazes lingering for a moment too long before one or the other looked away, their cheeks flushing with desire and restraint.
On occasion, Killen’s fingers grazed Sana’a’s arm whenever they reached for a drink or passed the other a plate of food.
Each touch sent shivers down her spine, igniting a fire deep within her as the atmosphere grew heavy with need, craving and anticipation.
Sana’a light-headedness ratcheted as the klaw kicked in, and the drinks she downed kept coming.
When a small band started up a set in the corner of the bar, the lively music called to her.
She set her beverage down and began dancing in the walkway beside their table.
Killen’s eyes glittered as he watched her over the edge of his beer glass.
When she leaned in to pull him up, he shook his head. ‘Not my thing, but you? You’re incredible. Dance on.’
‘You don’t like to?’
‘When I do, I like it slow, remember?’
Her cheeks flushed as she recalled their initial meeting.
The air was thick with tight emotion as their eyes locked, raw desire flickering in the depths of their gazes.
Without a word, Killen closed the distance between them, his hand gently cupping her cheek.
Sana’a’s breath hitched as his touch sent shockwaves through her.
The contact was electrifying, sending waves of potency coursing through her veins.
Her resolve crumbled, the walls she had erected around her heart weakening with each passing moment in his presence.
Their eyes met again, the intensity of their gazes locking them in a silent battle of longing and restraint.
Killen swayed closer, his lips inches away from Sana’a’s.
She didn’t say a word when he reached a lean finger. He ran it down the side of her face, along her nape, and lower still to the swell of her breast.
He flicked his thumb over the tip of her turgid nipple under her tunic, and she let out a sound.
His eyes stayed fixed on hers as he tweaked it once more.
‘Killen,’ she warned with low conviction.
‘Want me to stop?’
