‘I’m glad I didn’t. The element of surprise is rather thrilling.’
Still smiling, he led her around the dance floor, so much more confident than he’d been at the staff night out a few weeks ago. Maybe he felt freer here – or maybe it was the Prosecco loosening him up. Clara didn’t really need to know; she was too busy enjoying the moment. His arms were strong and sure around her, his movements easy. The wedge of bare skin below his open collar drew her eyes again and again – the smooth line of his throat, the hint of warmth beneath the fabric. She’d like to lean in and press a kiss right there, just to see how he’d react. But would it stop there? The way she was feeling, she doubted it. Everything about him felt like a delicious temptation waiting to be unwrapped, and the unholy thought of doing just that was completely messing with her head. This was Sam. Her friend. Herundeniably hotfriend.
It had been so long since she’d felt this kind of ease with a man. Fergus – football-first Fergie – had liked sex on his own terms, to celebrate wins or blow off steam. She’d always been left disappointed, unsatisfied, and a little lost, despite her best efforts. Shelikedphysical closeness – even when it wasn’t about the end result, it was about the warmth, the connection. But Fergus had never cared for that. Over time, frustration had hardened into dread, and she’d convinced herself that spark was gone for good. Coupled alongside her other issues, she’d almost resigned herself to a life of celibacy.
But now… her insides had woken up again. That forgotten buzz was back – the slow, intoxicating hum of anticipation, the ache of wanting to be close to someone. And Sam wouldn’tdisappoint her – she was sure of it. Whatever they did, he’d be gentle, thoughtful… kind.
‘Where did these dance skills emerge from?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘Skills? This isn’t skill. I’m just spinning you around a bit. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.’
Clara shook her head, but her smile refused to budge. ‘Well, it feels skilful to me. I’d like to know what other skills you’re hiding in there.’ She pressed a finger into his chest.
‘None.’ He let out a little laugh. ‘Just the usual ones.’
‘Which are?’
‘Full knowledge of the works of William Shakespeare…’
She chuckled. ‘Can’t take the English teacher out of the classroom.’
‘Something like that.’
Song after song blended into one another, but Sam carried on twirling her and laughing.
‘I’m melting.’ She fanned her face as the song came to an end. ‘Shall we get a cold drink?’
They took a breather, waiting at the bar for a drink and then sitting down, sipping quietly. A slower, more sedate song came on. ‘Shall we dance this one?’ Clara glanced at Sam.
‘If you like.’ He put his glass down, and Clara took his hand. As soon as they got to the floor, he slipped his arms around her and pulled her closer, one hand resting lightly on her waist, and the other cupping hers. They swayed together gently, and Clara relaxed against him. This was why people in times gone by loved dances so much. They presented the perfect opportunity to get close. And Clara was very close to Sam right now.
If Dominic happened to spot them, he wouldn’t doubt for a second that this wasn’t one hundred per cent real.
Just how good did Sam smell? His broad chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. Her pulse quickened. What would it feel likeif the barriers were removed? If she could pull him even closer, feel the full weight of his arms around her, feel his skin against hers. What would happen if they let this shift into something more?
The idea sent a jolt through her, and she almost stumbled. ‘Sorry.’
Sam’s grip on her tightened a little, and she realised she’d not been in any real danger of falling. He wouldn’t have allowed it.
The physical pull she felt towards him was stronger than it had ever been, and it wasn’t just the dancing. She was craving him in a way that was concerning and impossible to ignore.
‘I’m bursting for the loo,’ she said when the dance finished. ‘That drink must have gone straight through me.’
‘Thanks for sharing that.’ Sam smirked at her as they went back to their seats.
‘Any time.’ Clara winked, picked up her bag and headed for the bathrooms.
It was blissfully cool and quiet compared to the lively chaos of the wedding party. After she’d been to the loo, she took her comb out of her bag and ran it through her mussed-up hair. Her cheeks were flushed. She couldn’t entirely blame the dancing for that either. This had so much to do with Sam.
As she popped her comb back in her bag, something on the wall caught her eye. A condom machine.What the hell? Why am I looking at that?But she didn’t move. Instead, she stood chewing her lip, her eyes flicking between the machine and the exit.
It wasn’t like sheneededthem. But her mind ran off ahead. What if they got as close in bed later as they had done on the dancefloor? She’d be a liar to say she didn’t want to.
Better safe than sorry? Or just wishful thinking?
Before she could talk herself out of it, she dug into her handbag for her card. She followed the instructions on themachine. Hell. She’d never done this before What if someone came in? Bizarre thoughts went through her mind like the advice she gave students about always being safe and how they should never be embarrassed about it.Jeez, is that easier said than done?The clatter of the box falling into the tray was louder than she expected, making her flinch. She grabbed it and stuffed it into her bag.
No one needed to know it was there. It was purely precautionary. If she had some more to drink, she might be too incapacitated to do anything… but she also needed to be able to walk back to the cottage.
