He makes me feel cherished.
He makes me feel protected.
He makes me feel safe.
7
Kara - Present
Wefinallymakeitonto the dance floor, which is already full of people in a range of colourful dresses and tuxedos dancing. The chandelier above glitters and twinkles. I’ve been in plenty of situations like this; big dinners, extravagant rooms, all with grand decorations, where bands play and people dance.
But in this moment, when Owen grabs my waist and I step closer to him, when my arm rests on his shoulder, and when he takes my other hand in his, I feel like this is my first time. Butterflies dance in my stomach. My mouth feels like I’ve not drank anything for days, and don’t even get me started on the rapid beats of my heart.
“Do you know how to dance?” I ask him as he starts leading me around the dance floor.
“Nothing to it.”
“You always had two left feet.”
He looks down at me and grins. “I’m sure that was you, Cookie. You were always running into things or falling over your feet. Need I remind you about the pond?”
“That was the stones,”
“But look at you now. All grown up,” he says, ignoring my argument.
“As have you, Mr Cooper. When’s your speech?”
“Soon,” he answers, but doesn’t say more.
“Jules seemed to suggest it was a big night?”
“It is. I’m making an announcement tonight.”
“Which is?”
He spins me, and I follow easily, his arm letting go of my waist and grabbing hold, pulling me back close. My head tilts back up to read his expression, which is masked. He really is Mr Politician.
“You’ll see. So, tell me, what’s the plan here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I stop dancing and stare deep into his eyes. “We put on a show.” I place my hand on his chest and can feel his heart pounding as hard as mine. People are having to dance round us, as we have stopped right in the centre of the floor, directly under the chandelier.
The positioning is perfect, and after our reunion, people are intrigued by our story. Their curious stares press from all sides, anticipation crackling between us.
He looks down at me, green eyes meeting blue. His gaze unreadable, intense.
“Can you put on a show, Owen?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the music.
Hesitation flickers across his face, so fleeting I question whether it was there. His jaw tightens, and I can almost feel the war raging inside him. With the slightest of nods, he makes his choice. Leaning in, his lips graze mine in the lightest of touches. A whisper of a kiss which sends a shiver down my spine.
Then it’s gone.
Before I can react and ask for more, he pulls me close and moves us effortlessly across the dance floor.
It’s calculated. It’s controlled. It’s not enough.
A slow, wicked smile curls at my lips as I meet his gaze. “I think you may need to do better than that.”
“What, you want me to bend you over a table and fuck you?” he growls in my ear. “This was not what I had in mind when I wanted more security. Bloody hell, Lucy.”
