Chapter Twenty-Three
KIT
There’s dancing again, though this time it isn’t at a club. The restaurant I’d suggested to Rory has an in-house singer—a real songbird. Slow, bluesy ballads that seduce diners to dance and do to other stuff later on, no doubt.
I have hope.
Not that we’re dancing ourselves. Bea refused my first invitation, and we’re currently watching my brother come as close to sex as humanly possible while remaining fully clothed as he twirls his fiancée around and around on the dance floor.
Lucky bastard.
Was the food good? I can’t say. I doubt Bea would be able to answer, either. Though she did seem quite fascinated by the pattern on her plate. The conversation has been carried mostly by Rory and Fin, though the chill seems to be thawing a little now. That’s not right. She’s not frosty. She seems more concerned.
‘She’s so happy.’ Bea’s soft voice pulls me from my thoughts. ‘And Rory’s kind of a fabulous dancer.’ In an unconscious moment, she leans closer, allowing her voice to carry over the music, bringing with her the scent of her perfume and her wine wet lips. I nod a little, knocked off my stride, my feelings and base reactions tied so tightly together it fucking hurts.
I’ve never gone slowly. Never dated, unless you count some teenage dalliances. I doubt pizza and a quick grope at the cinema are quite what’s needed here. I don’t want to be her rebound—because, hallelujah, she’s confirmed to all concerned that she’s dumped her cheating prick of a boyfriend—and I don’t want to be just some random fuck.
I’m also not entirely clear what that leaves.
‘Not that I’m not certain you can bust some shapes, too.’
Her eyes sparkle, and I attempt a smile, my own gaze drawing off to Fin and Rory on the dance floor. This is why I rarely socialise outside the club. People in the outside world have expectations, and I don’t do well with those.But, fuck, I’m trying.
Trying hard to keep my hands to myself. Trying hard to make her see there’s more to us than some public fingering and sex.
Why is she so lovely?
‘Did I say something wrong?’ Her expression is earnest, and if I’m honest, it seems a little anxious.
‘I’m fine. .. Barbara.’ It’s becoming a little ridiculous, my obsession to find out her name.
She laughs softly. ‘Well, now you’re just grasping at straws.’
‘Yes, when what I’d like to grasp are your hips. I’d like to take the glass from your hand and bend you over this table. I’d push your palms flat and curl your fingers around the warm wood. I’d tell you to hang the fuck on then lick you from arse to clit.’
So much for going slow.
‘Y-you can’t say those kinds of things.’ Shocked. Stunned. Turned on, if I’m reading her expression right. And I think I am.
‘Pretty sure I just did. And what’s more, I’m pretty sure you liked it.’ Like an owl, she blinks back at me, and just like that, I’m lost in her dark honey gaze. ‘I want to do lots of things to you, taking my time to learn all the ways that make you come.’ I clamp my jaw shut before I say anymore. There are other things I want to say. Romantic things. Things to make her swoon. But what the fuck are they?
Bea’s eyes go wide as saucers, and my chest expands. Why is it that any kind of reaction from her just makes me feel good? From turning her on to pissing her off by pulling on her metaphoric ponytail. I like them all.
‘You . . . I have no words.’
‘Good job you don’t need them. Though yes works. And harder. More.’
‘So you’re saying you’re not interested in what I have to say?’
‘I’m very interested. I’m just saying you don’t have to speak. Your body’s doing plenty of talking for you.’ I keep my eyes on her face and away from her chest, folding my arms and aiming for serious. It’s hard to do when her nipples are looking at me like that.
‘Y-you’re seriously cut,’ she says, her eyes sort of glazed. ‘So... big.’ Then she purses her lips as though she regrets the words.
‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’ I try not to smile. I know I’m big. It’s what devotion to exercise brings. It has other perks, like the way she’s looking at me... or maybe not.
‘Well, don’t kill yourself with return compliments or anything,’ she huffs.
‘I can compliment.’
