Chapter 17
ANYA
That wine has gone straight to my head. I don’t know where my inhibitions have gone but they must be floating in the Seine by now. All day we’ve been talking and laughing and… flirting? And now he’s holding my hand as I take him to Cavette de Huchette, a cavernous jazz bar with dim lighting and dark corners. What am I doing?
We get to the club and Danny stands behind me, finally letting go of my hand as I order entry for two people. Before I can get my money out, Danny has reached over my head and handed over his card.
I look up at him. “Are you ever going to stop doing that?”
He winks and doesn’t reply. My breath hitches, as he places his hand on my hip and guides me through to the bar. He orders a bottle of champagne and two glasses, but I don’t offer to pay for this one — if he wants the expensive stuff, that’s on him.
Danny grabs the champagne bucket, handing me the glasses. He takes my spare hand again and leads me down the winding stairs at the end of the bar. Holding his hand is almost awkward as we carefully make our way down the old, narrow staircase but I can’t bring myself to let go.
The cavern-like room is cold except for the heat of the bodies swaying on the dance floor. Danny leads the way through the crowd, tugging me behind him. I nearly lose him but grab onto his pinky finger as we squeeze past the dancing couples.
I sidestep to avoid an old man with a shock of white hair underneath a straw hat spinning a young woman in his arms. The woman squeals with delight, glancing at her friends in the corner who are cheering her on.
I assume Danny is leading us to the plush leather seats lining the walls but instead he twists towards me. The movement is so sudden that I glance behind his broad shoulder looking for a camera phone pointed our way.
“Who is it?” I ask, dragging my eyes back to him.
“Huh?” he asks, leaning down to hear me over the music as he places the champagne on a nearby table.
I tilt my head up to reply but anything I was meant to say gets stuck on my tongue. He’s so close I can feel his cool breath on my cheek. Our noses are nearly touching. Before I can pull away or move closer, Danny raises our hands, seamlessly turning his hand so he’s cradling mine instead of me clutching his finger. Not once breaking contact.
Confused, I glance back at him as he curves his arm around my back, pulling me flush to him.
“Dance with me,” he murmurs.
My hand moves to his shoulder. “I don’t know how,” I say quietly. Despite the roaring music and the crowd, I fear speaking any louder will burst the bubble we’re hiding in.
“I’ll show you.” He sways me in his arms, in time with the slow jazz the live band is crooning. My hand inches further across his shoulder until my fingertips brush the warm skin of his neck. Danny’s eyes flutter closed.
My heart is pounding, not from the dancing — which is really more of a coordinated swaying — but from the hard chest pressing against my front. I’m trapped in his azure eyes. His tongue pokes out between his lips, sweeping across his bottom lip. I look back up at him, my mouth going dry.
His warm palm lowers until it’s indecently resting at the base of my spine.
I take a deep breath in, leaning my head towards him, begging for those final few centimeters to disappear and his lips to be on mine.
The band changes the song to an upbeat swing number, which is more suited to a post-war ball room than whatever charged atmosphere we have created in our own little world. Danny blinks and steps back, a sly grin stealing across his mouth.
Before I can open my mouth, Danny straightens his arm and sends me spinning away from him. I yelp as I attempt to gracefully spin like the other dancers on the floor. He pulls me back to his chest and I giggle, the tension from earlier dissolving into laughter.
Danny continues to spin me on the dance floor, our intimate dancing forgotten and replaced with terrible attempts to swing dance. He spins me on the dance floor until my cheeks hurts from laughing. We escape the crowd to down the champagne, before spinning back onto the floor.
Eventually, when the champagne runs dry and the band starts to pack up, Danny pulls me towards the exit.
“Home time,” he murmurs in my ear as we step out into the street.
I fumble with my phone, and order a car, automatically sending it to his hotel.
I step away from him, the cool evening air sizzling the heat from my body. The car arrives immediately, and it’s second nature for me to clamber in the back seat beside him. If Danny thinks it’s strange, he doesn’t say.
The ride to his hotel is quiet and goes by far too quickly. When we pull up in front, Danny pauses with his hand on the door. “You coming?” he asks, his voice rough.
I gulp. “I’ll come make sure you get in safely.”
Danny nods, his eyes darkening. He runs around the back of the car and pulls my door open for me. Flustered, I step out and take his waiting hand.
He doesn’t let me go as he tugs me through the lobby of the hotel and into the elevator.
On his floor, the elevator doors clang shut behind us. The dim lamplight in the hallway illuminates his face, leaving the gentle stubble on his jaw in the shade.
Suddenly nervous, I push my hair behind my ear and turn to him. “Well, I can safely say you’re back in your room.”
He nods and then looks back at his door. “I’m not technically inside yet.”
“No.”
“Maybe you should just, y’know, wait to make sure I’m inside. Safely.”
“Ye—yes. Just to be safe.” I’m barely breathing.
He turns and unlocks the door, peeking over his shoulder. I don’t know where to look, so I admire the rouge wallpaper decorating the corridor. I’m just doing my job, escorting him home. That’s all.
He opens the door and turns to me. Our bodies are less than a foot away from each other. If I take one little step forward I would be inside his hotel room. Another step and the door could close behind me.
“It’s not very safe,” he says, his voice thick. “Until the door’s closed.”
I clear my throat. “Right.”
He takes a shallow breath, his eyes darting to my lips. I lick them nervously, my heart beating in my ears, and I take that tiny step. He swings the door closed behind me.
Our bodies are pressed together now. I stand still, afraid to move, afraid to speak, afraid to acknowledge this moment. I can feel his warm breath on my cheek.
He raises his hand, slowly, as if giving me time to move away. My feet are heavy and weighted to the floor. My body is frozen, caught in the taught air between us. His hand slowly brushes against my cheek, placing his hand behind my ear.
“It’s safe now,” he says, softly.
I look into his blue eyes, the pupils dark. My breath catches in my throat.
“I should leave,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” he replies, leaning in. His face is so close to mine now, our lips a millimeter apart.
“I mean it,” I say, in what I hope is a stern voice.
“I know.”
My lips crash into his. The kiss is soft at first, and when his tongue tentatively skims the edge of my lip, I melt into him. I open my mouth wider as my hands creep up around his neck. His arms encircle me, pulling me into his hard body. With a groan, he deepens the kiss and the ache between my thighs is undeniable.
I tilt my head away from him, attempting to catch my breath. “We shouldn’t.”
His lips slowly travel down to my neck, biting and sucking on the soft skin. “We are.”
I can’t argue with that. I thread my fingers through his hair and pull his lips back to mine. The gentle kiss of before is forgotten as our mouths collide.
“Bed,” I mutter in between kisses.
He smirks against my mouth. “Still so bossy.”
I ignore him as he slowly starts to move us backwards towards the bed, his fingers sliding up my back, gently caressing the underside of my breasts through the thin cotton of my dress.
The back of my knees hit the bed. I fumble with the hem of his t-shirt and pull it up over his head, breaking our kiss.
“Fuck,” I mutter, running my hands over the places I’ve been dying to touch. His skin is smooth and golden, a fine smattering of hair that I run my fingers through. In a moment of insanity, I lean forward and press wet kisses along his chest.
“Your turn.”
He starts kissing my neck again as he works my dress up my thighs. I stop his hands, suddenly nervous. “I don’t—I don’t exactly look like a model.”
He pauses and looks into my eyes. “I want to see you freckles. Please.”
My knees nearly collapse as he presses a final kiss to my lips before he pulls my dress over my head. His eyes darken as he stares at me, practically licking his lips before unclasping my bra. “Fuck Anya.” He swallows.
He kisses a path along my skin, tracing the freckles across my chest until he reaches my aching breasts. He sucks one nipple into his mouth as I bite back a moan. My heart stutters as he peppers my skin with hard kisses and gentle bites, worshiping my skin. He pushes me to lie back and hovers over me. He leans down to kiss me as his hand explores my body, grasping a nipple between his fingers before tracing down my stomach to the edge of my underwear.
I whimper as his fingers find the bundle of nerves begging for his attention, his deft fingers teasing me.
“It’s not enough,” I breathe, fumbling with his belt buckle. Before I can unclasp the button he slips a finger inside me and I think I go blind.
I’m barely able to keep kissing him as my breath is robbed from me with every flex of his finger. He presses wet kisses to my neck and I feel his teeth brushing my skin.
My hands tug at his jeans, hoping he gets the message to pull them off but he presses his hand deeper inside me. His thumb joins in his ministrations and my body lights up, tumbling into an orgasm with a gasp.
He presses a kiss to my lips as I open my eyes drowsily. “Anya.”
Impatiently, I tug at his jeans until he finally stands and strips off the remainder of his clothes. His cock springs free and my mouth waters at the sight. He leans to the bedside drawer but I can’t help myself. I sit up and take him in my mouth.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his hand twisting in my hair. He’s bigger than I expected, as I widen my jaw and flick my tongue across his delicate tip
He brushes my cheek with his finger and gently pulls out of me. He cradles my head in his hand and tugs his thumb against my swollen lip. I look up at him under my eyelashes. “I won’t last if you keep doing that, freckles.”
He fumbles in the drawer, emerging with a condom that he takes no time at all to roll on. I fall onto my back as he hovers over me, his lips reclaiming mine.
I feel him nudge at my entrance and I wrap my legs around him, desperate to feel him.
“Please,” I beg. “Fuck me.”
He moans as he pushes inside me, his head burrowing in the curve of my neck. His hips flex as he tortures me, the pressure building and building until I hit my second climax, so soon after my first. As soon as I come down from my high, he pistons inside me desperately, following soon after with a groan.
I wrap my arms around him as I try to catch my breath, pressing a kiss to his hair.
I slide off him and fall into the cradle of his shoulder, resting my head against his pounding heart. His fingers trace up my arm, pebbling goosebumps in his wake. Before I have a chance to overthink, to catch my breath, my hand flattens against his chest descending lower and lower until he shifts. Towering over me, his eyes scan my face. Through hooded eyes, I return his stare. His hair mussed from my fingers.
He takes my lips in a kiss that burns through the night.