‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not ready to pull out her hair extensions. Yet.’
A deep, rumbling chuckle moves his chest, his eyes never moving from mine. I can’t think of anything coherent to add because watching him watch me is slightly thrilling. In the absence of words, I pick up my menu to hide behind and with a blithe sweep of my free hand, grasp the comically large glass.
‘Hard day at the chalk face?’ Propping his elbows against the arms of the chair, he steeples the tips of his fingers under his chin. ‘Have the little darlings driven you to drink already?’
‘Stress drinking? Nope, I only resort to that after talking to my mum.’
‘You don’t get along with your mother?’
Damn. ‘Let’s just say if the Pope had to take a call from my mum, he’d be breaking out the sacramental juice, too.’ His expression is one of enquiry. I answer it in a sing-song voice. ‘Subject closed!’
‘Then, to parents.’ He raises his glass. ‘More than kin, sometimes less than kind.’ Placing his glass back, he leans toward me, sliding his hand between the small of my back and the chair. ‘What did the lady think of my gifts?’
I bite my tongue against agreeing heispretty well endowed, when his hand dips lower, seeking the bow at the back of my peculiar panties.
‘The lady loves the shoes,’ I answer wiggling away from his hand. Twisting in the chair, I hold out my leg for him to admire a stylishly shod foot. His eyes are appraising as they travel from my toes up, finally settling on my face.
‘I’m pleased you approve.’
‘You have pretty good taste. In shoes, I mean.’
‘I have good taste in a good many things,’ he purrs. ‘Feeling exposed? Entirely... wrapped up?’
‘Puntastic!’ I giggle. ‘You just keep on speculating, there’s no way you can tell if I’ve got your tie-me-up undies on.’
‘You have.’ He laughs in a gravelly tone. ‘Though the idea was much less about bondage and more about the reveal, either works for me.’
My stomach flips instinctually, clenching commencing a little further south. I bring the glass to my mouth.
‘You approve?’ he asks, gesturing to the glass.
I nod. ‘Yeah, so good. I love red wine but I don’t think it likes me too much,’ I prattle, still feeling the weight of his shining gaze. ‘It gives me a blinding headache sometimes.’
‘You know, the key is not to drink too much.’
‘I don’t. Often. And rarely on school nights.’ I tilt the glass in one hand, with the other I hold up three fingers, Girl Scout style. ‘Two glass limit.’ I stare at my mixed-messaging fingers. ‘Well, sometimes three.’
‘Why, is there something prohibitive in your employment contract?’
‘There should be. A hangover and a full classroom is a nightmare combination. You can’t go for a lie down in the cupboard.’
‘As I said, it’s all in the consumption.’
‘No worries, I’ll be tucked up in bed nice and early.’
‘Of that I have high hopes.’ Something hot, wet and carnal instantly fills my veins, a tiny explosion of sensation spreading through my core. ‘Are there sanctions on dancing weeknights, too?’ He stands, pushing back his chair and holding out his hand. ‘Dance with me.’
My gaze flicks nervously around the room. ‘But there’s no one else dancing.’ Did I mention I can’t dance? Not to him, obviously.
‘I’m not interested in dancing with anyone else.’
He smiles seductively, curling his fingers in a tempting come hither motion until there’s nothing else I can do, but place my hand in his. As he leads me to the small, wooden square denoting dancing, dread wells under my diaphragm. The space is so tiny, I’m not even sure itisa dance floor, plus there’s nowhere to hide because there’s no one else dancing.
Wrapping an arm around my waist, Kai pulls me close, so I drape my hands in the appropriate places, trying to recall steps from long ago high school senior dance classes.
‘Relax,’ he murmurs as the lyrics toAll of Mefloat into the air.
My body falls seamlessly into rhythm with his, almost like we’ve done this before. As we move, I feel tiny in his arms, cosseted almost. I catch a glimpse of our reflections in a darkened mirror; the graceful curve of his cheekbone, the hair falling over my shoulder in soft waves. The illusion is a couple with history, not just partners for the night.
