“The spirit has changed.” His tone becomes serious.
“Isn’t your blonde missing you on that banquette?” Something inside me wants to investigate what looked like him flirting with another woman and making my blood boil until a minute ago.
Ashford pulls me towards him as if he hadn’t even heard my question. “Dance with me.”
“What?” I couldn’t be more surprised.
“Dance with me,” Ashford says, and then he helps me off the podium.
His hand holds mine gently as he leads me to the centre of the dance floor.
“I felt a little exposed up there,” he points out.
I don’t know what to say to him. Here, in the crowd, we’re closer than ever before, almost crushed against each other.
“Do you know what I’d like? To see you do the dance move you did a second ago.”
Nothing, in my mind there’s nothing. I can barely take my eyes off his, and when I do, it’s just to follow the movements of his lips. “What are you talking about?”
“This,” he says, as he pulls me against his body so that, thanks to the gentle pressure, my hips start swaying along with his in a smooth slow dance.
My mouth gets dry. “Ashford, how many gin and tonics have you had?”
His eyes stare at mine with absolute seriousness. “Not even one. I’ve never been more sober. You?”
I shake my head in denial. I believe him. He doesn’t smell of alcohol. All I can smell on his neck is hisAcqua di Parmacologne and a hint of sweat. No gin. Only Ashford.
He holds me tight against him, guiding his hands up and down my back, with slow and delicate movements and an ardour he’s never shown before.
I can’t ignore the explicit words of the song that is playing; it’s as if it were talking to me and, if Ashford is feeling the same, we are one step away from falling into the abyss, we’re this close to jumping into a free fall. Here they are, again!
“…I want your bite. Wanna feel your teeth on my neck. Wanna taste the salt of your sweat. Gonna rock your body all night. It’s lust at first sight…”
I want him to stop, but I also want him to go on.
What he’s doing prevents me from thinking clearly, but I can’t help asking him a question. “What are you doing? You could have any woman you want…”
“I’m looking at her right now,” and, so saying, he sinks his head into the hollow of my neck. He inhales deeply and then, to my surprise, I feel his tongue moving slowly from my collarbone to my ear, in a moist and sensual caress. My breath gets shorter and shorter.
“You’re pretty tame tonight, Jemma,” he murmurs.
I’m overwhelmed. There’s no other way to describe me.
Ashford isn’t just flirting with me. He’s being pretty explicit. And I’m damn happy about it.
Is this real or is he just teasing me?
There’s only one way to find out: play my own part and jump into this.
I slowly caress his chest, his shoulders, the rear part of his neck, until my fingers intertwine with his hair. I press my body against his, my face is a breath away from his.
I’m here, duke. Win or lose. Take it or leave it.
And he takes it. He takes me completely.
He kisses me as if he wants to suck my soul away; I kiss him as if I want it back.
Time goes by and the music continues while the two of us move slowly and envelop each other rather explicitly. Our clothes are the only ephemeral limit between decency and scandal.
