Chapter 11 #2
I turn around to put my empty champagne glass on a nearby table—which is the exact moment when my eyes meet Val’s. He follows my every move with an unreadable expression on his face, and when I slip my hand into Matthew’s, I notice his nostrils flare before he tosses back his glass of champagne.
Pulling me onto the dance floor, Matthew twirls me into a little pirouette along the way.
There’s a joyful glint in his eyes as he gazes at me.
Once we’ve reached the middle, surrounded by all the other dancers, he takes the lead, dancing us effortlessly around the dance floor.
His long fingers press into the small of my back as he moves his hips to the pristine melody emanating as magic from the string quartet’s instruments.
He leans in, placing his chin on my shoulder.
His warm breath teases a few stray strands of hair away from my ear.
You look incredible, Hannah. That dress looks fantastic on you. Wherever did you get it? He spins me away from him, leaving only our hands still linked. There’s a cheeky smile on his face—he knows perfectly well where I bought this dress.
Spinning back into his arms, I reply, Why, at the best department store in London, of course.
That’s the only correct answer, he chuckles.
Over Matthew’s shoulder, I spot that Val is onto his second glass of champagne. He’s keeping a close eye on us and when Matthew’s fingers press into the skin right above my ass, Val’s eyes narrow noticeably.
Matthew swings me around the dance floor for six full songs.
He’s an excellent dancer. Good thing I took a few ballroom-dancing lessons in my university days.
If I hadn’t, Matthew’s toes would be covered in bruises by now.
The dance floor is filling up nicely now, the joyous crowd moving with ease and really starting to let loose.
Matthew draws me in tightly and I close my eyes, feeling his body move so closely against mine.
I’m getting hotter by the second—both from the dancing and from the heat radiating off of all these people basically doing cardio workouts all around me.
I feel sweat beading on my forehead and wipe it away with the back of my hand.
Would you like to get some air? asks Matthew, leaning back a little so he can get a better look at me. His dark curls are glued to his forehead, his eyes gleaming from all the endorphins.
I’d love to, I say, and Matthew’s lips pull into a radiant smile.
He takes me loosely by the wrist, guiding me through all the guests toward the rooftop terrace.
Snowflakes are no longer tumbling from the sky and the ground has been cleared of snow.
Even so, a shiver runs through my body. This satin dress is hardly a match for the icy winter wind, but that all stops mattering the instant I notice the jaw-dropping view.
London is one big expanse of lights and snow.
The London Eye is lit up in green and Big Ben has an orange glow.
Tiny little cars zip along the roads and red double-decker buses spit out the occasional handful of people at a bus stop.
This is truly gorgeous, Matthew, I say, awestruck as I gaze around.
He glides a hand along the goosebumps on my arm. You must be cold, he says, and before I can even reply, he’s already slipping out of his suit jacket and draping it around my shoulders. We don’t want you catching a chill.
There’s a crooked grin on his face. And that damn dimple . . .
You have an eyelash right . . . there, he says, using his thumb to wipe the lash from my face. His dark eyes lock onto mine before he swallows, lowering his gaze to my lips.
Matthew is attractive and kind. It’s pretty obvious what he’d like to do next. So why is the only thought in my mind right now that these eyes gazing into mine are brown instead of stormy grey?
Matthew? says a deep voice behind us.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I look up, startled, and find myself staring into those same eyes I was pining for just seconds ago. Even though his voice sounds calm, I can tell from his posture that he’s angry. His shoulders are pulled back and he’s squeezing his hands into fists.
Ronald is looking for you, Val says to Matthew, as he holds me captive in his gaze.
Matthew gives him a surprised look. Ronald? Bu—
Now.
Matthew’s eyes dart back and forth between us before he finally disappears through the door and back inside.
Aside from Val and me, no one else is on the roof right now. Only insane people would want to be outside in these freezing temperatures anyway, especially underdressed. Val is still staring straight at me. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt his anger directed at me.
Hannah . . . he begins, his voice shaking with bottled-up rage.
I bite my lower lip as he inches closer to me.
Are you and Matthew . . . involved? he says, finishing his question.
Me and Matthew? No! Why wou—
You’re wearing his jacket. He takes another step closer, then another, until his shoes are touching the pointed toes of my high heels. I’m met by a musky scent—a blend of his aftershave and the crispness of the air outside. His face is so close now that I can make out the dark edges of his irises.
Was that the first time?
I glare at him. The first time what?
His eyes narrow. Was this the first time you’ve almost kissed? Or were you just picking up where you left off?
I shoot him a stubborn look. Every second, his face seems to move a fraction of a millimetre closer to mine.
His head was just centimetres away from yours, he says.
My mouth goes dry as I hold my defiant stare. His lips are so close now that we’re breathing the same air and I feel a shiver jolt down my spine. I try to swallow and carefully wet my lips.
You mean kind of like yours right n—
I don’t get the chance to finish. He doesn’t hesitate, twisting his fingers into my hair as he pulls me toward his lips.
When his mouth presses firmly against mine, the breath catches in my throat.
He lets out a sound. Something between a moan and a sigh.
Just for a beat, I stand frozen on the grey tiles of the terrace, before flinging my arms around his neck in an attempt to draw him even closer to me.
My fingers slip through his soft, sleek hair as I taste him on my lips.
He tastes like expensive champagne, peppermint, and .
. . Val. He glides a hand up my neck toward my cheek, his fingertips disappearing into my red curls.
His soft lips are skilled, moving over mine with purpose.
And then he gently pulls his lips from mine, pressing our foreheads together.
He looks at me, the grey in his eyes nearly invisible.
His chest is heaving. I bite my lip and stare at the beautiful man standing in front of me.
You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that, he says in a whisper. There’s a raspy touch to his voice.
Slowly, he takes a step back. It doesn't seem to come easily. That was the first time I’ve ever seen Val lose control.
His hair is a tousled mess and there’s a wild look in his eyes.
My breath comes rapidly as my heart pounds against the inside of my ribs.
Snow begins to float down again, landing on us, clinging to our clothes.
I’m still staring at him with a perplexed look on my face as I softly touch my lips.
Val’s expression turns unsure as he gazes at me, his eyes still locked on my face.
Hannah. Say something. He licks his lips and something resembling panic stirs in the depths of those grey eyes. I didn’t mean to do something you didn’t—
I take a step toward him, smothering his uncertainty with my lips.
I have no idea how much time has passed by the time I walk back into the event, but the guests are definitely tipsier than they were when I left the room.
My lips are swollen and when I bring a hand to my cheeks, they feel hot to the touch.
I fixed my hair as much as possible, but I can still feel some strands sticking out of my carefully styled look.
Something to drink, miss? You seem a touch overheated. The server offers me a wide smile and some unicorn juice.
I hesitate, staring at the pink glittery mess, then pick up a glass from his tray. I dive straight in with a massive gulp. It tastes exactly the way it looks: excessively sweet with a champagne aftertaste.
I feel a sudden gust of cold air and look over my shoulder.
Val is back, too. He waited for the exact length of decoy time we agreed on.
His hair is still mussed and there’s a deep blush on his cheeks.
He straightens his silver tie before fixing his collar.
Our eyes meet and the right corner of his mouth quirks up as we hold each other’s gaze just a little too long.
I quickly avert my eyes and feel my mouth widen into a grin so huge that my cheeks start to cramp up.
Shrugging off Matthew’s jacket, I head off to look for him.
His full head of curls sticks out over the rest of the crowd as he carries on a conversation with one of the guests.
She’s an older woman with a pair of pearl earrings so huge and heavy that they pull her earlobes down a little.
Her grey hair has been rolled up in an elegant twist, topped with a sparkling tiara.
Her shimmering yellow dress sways around her plump ankles and when she laughs, she places a hand on Matthew’s arm.
He looks up when he spots me and his eyes linger on my face.
Thanks for the loan, I say, holding his suit jacket out to him.
He looks from the jacket to my face and back before grabbing hold of the piece of clothing. Holding on just a little too long, he leans in, bringing his mouth closer to my ear.
You might want to pop to the ladies, Hannah, he whispers, then pulls his jacket back onto his shoulders. There’s a knowing look in his eyes.