We’re going to pull this off, aren’t we?Not bad for a fabricated couple!
The song ends with a flourish, and we step back, both slightly out of breath.
Laura gushes, “That was so cool!”
“You’re welcome,” I say, earning a playful swat on the arm.
The applause swells as we leave the makeshift dance floor. My mood has improved immensely. I bow and wave to the crowd. Even the cameras rolling don’t bother me. When one cheekily zooms in for a close-up of my face, I don’t turn away.
I look straight into the lens and smile.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ANTOINE
Something’s changed. Our salsa routine was electric, and it wasn’t just the audience that sensed it. I could see it in Laura’s eyes, feel it in the way her body moved perfectly with mine. It’s been at least thirty minutes since then. We haven’t danced again. I don’t trust myself to hold her and not to kiss her.
We’ve been mingling instead. Unfortunately, the enchantment is refusing to go away. It hums beneath my skin, making it hard to concentrate. For the first time since I met Laura, I feel like I’m losing control. I haven’t left her side. Worse, I can’t seem to keep my hands off her. It’s maddening. There’s a rebel lock of her hair that keeps falling on her face and begging to be tucked behind her ear… The imaginary speck on her plump bottom lip… Fingers brushing accidentally whenever I pass her a drink or a canapé…
Every touch is instinctive as if this kind of behavior were natural for me—when it’s anything but! Interestingly, Laura doesn’t pull away. Quite the contrary, she seems to enjoy my obsessive attentions.
The rainstorm comes out of nowhere, a sudden onslaught that has people scattering indoors. Laura and I follow themovement of the crowd. But we aren’t quick enough. By the time we make it to the covered terrace, both of us are drenched. Laura’s dress clings to her like a second skin. The wet fabric is plastered to her every curve, including her perfect breasts and hardened nipples. I can no longer look at them without my cock twitching in response.
She laughs softly. “You’re staring.”
“I’m assessing the damage.”
She mutters something unintelligible under her breath.
The Honeymoon’s End party limps along indoors for a little longer. By the time the rain stops, the band has already left, and no one takes the initiative to set up a DJ stand. After the official program is finally over, someone suggests heading to the beach for an after-party.
Laura glances at me. “Interested?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Anything to postpone returning to our room and finding ourselves alone and off camera. As things stand now, I can’t be sure what I’m going to do. I’m hoping that if I buy myself more time by hanging out with the others on the beach, my massive lust will go away or, at least, subside enough to give me a fighting chance.
We follow the other newlyweds to the dark beach. Groups break off quickly. Some sit around makeshift bonfires. Others wander toward the water. Alain hovers nearby. His audio partner has called it a night, but Alain is still here, following Laura and me like a mosquito that just won’t give up.
Lightning flashes in the distance, allowing me to spot Kurt’s agent Lino on the beach. He’s swapped his uniform for a tee and shorts. Unlike Alain, Lino has no excuse to be at the after-party, which is probably why he’s pretending to be out for a solitary walk.
In principle, his presence shouldn’t bother me. I won’t be discussing the music box with Laura anymore. There’s no point. My next step will be to ask her parents about it, when I officially meet them. But in practice, Lino’s covert surveillance annoys me even more than Alain’s blatant importuning.
I whisper to Laura. “Let’s lose the camera.”
She responds with a mischievous smile.
We slip away and walk briskly along the row of kiosks used by various vendors during the day. Small wooden structures with peeling paint and corrugated iron roofs, they’re all locked up for the night. I look over my shoulder. Alain is searching for us in the largest group. Lino stares at the path leading back to the hotel.
Perfect time to disappear!
I stop in front of a flimsy kiosk. “This one.”
I test the door.
Laura folds her arms. “You’re going to break in?”
“Technically, I’m going to force entry,” I say pushing against the door.
