In fact, I laugh because she has no idea how far away we are from talking about children. Contraception, maybe.
Old people really don’t give a fuck, do they?
We chat all the way through the five-course meal and sometime around the main, I slide one shoe off and reach between us until I find Gus’s leg. His breath catches when he feels my toes on his shin.
I leave it there throughout the course and when desert arrives, I let my leg drift higher all the way up to his knee. At this point he turns to me slowly, his stare a challenge, his eyes darkening as I press my toes into his thigh.
When the meal is over, a band starts up on the deck outside and many parties, including Edith and Paul, are quick to rise from their seats and head out to dance but we remain seated, gazes locked.
“You’re being very mean to me,” he mutters.
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“It is, yeah. But I like it. I think it suits me.”
“Me being mean to you, suits you.”
“Dangerously so.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, his stare unwavering. “I think you know why I’m still sitting.”
Yes. I do. “Would you like me to remove my foot?”
“No.”
“Would you like me to move it higher?”
“Yes.”
“Really? In here?”
He smirks looking around. Most people have left the room now, the music louder as they clear tables. “I think we’d better go and dance, don’t you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I amnota dancer.”
Gus stands, gently placing my foot down, before repositioning himself discreetly and offering me his hand. “Sara, please do me the honour.”
“Ugh.”
He chuckles. “Exactly the reaction every man wants when he asks a woman to dance. Shall I word it differently?” He leans down closer so that he can speak quietly. “Sara, sunshine, you’ve given me a raging boner and now I’m going to have to hold you very close to cover it up while I sway you around the deck.”
“Thewhat?”
“The dick.”
“That’s what I heard.” I fake a sigh, placing my hand in his. “Fine, I’ll dance with you. But only because you’re desperate.”
Twenty-SevenCruise Location – At seaNext Port – CannesTime of Arrival – 10:00 (GMT+1)
The five-piece band play slow, romantic music, which is the perfect soundtrack when the backdrop, as the evening sun lowers over the horizon, leaving the sky a warm yellow, is the breathtakingly beautiful French coastline. Tonight, we’re anchored not far off the coast since it isn’t far to travel in the morning to Cannes. The boat is still, the sea calm, the colourful buildings and bright lights of Nice glitter in the distance.
Gus walks me out to the dancefloor and spins us before I’ve even had a moment to register what he’s doing. I find myself flush against his chest, one palm pressed between my shoulder blades, the other on my waist, fingers splaying, grazing the peak of my bottom. I’ve instinctively slung one arm around his neck; the other holds onto his tanned, solid bicep.
He’s strong and steady, a relief since I have a total lack of coordination. Not to mention the useless ankle that could buckle at any moment.
His face is so close to mine, those light brown eyes almost golden in the lowering light, that all it would take is for meto press onto my toes and we’d be kissing again. And as if he has the same thought he allows himself to look at my lips.
