Chapter 8 - Sayid
I am barely holding onto my composure as I hold Nora in my arms, whisking her across the dance floor under the glow of the golden chandeliers. My gaze hasn’t left her since the moment she walked into the room. And now I am finally close enough to appreciate her.
I can feel every eye in the room on us—hear the bridesmaids whispering, Tyson glaring from the bar. But I only see her. My everything. She fits perfectly against me, and all I want to do is pick her up so I can worship her even closer.
She is illuminated, and I am drawn to the delicate curve of her collarbone. My gaze lifts up to her face, her lips still slightly parted in surprise by my previous declaration. The emerald of her dress clings to her, highlighting every soft, tempting detail of her body.
The fire in her eyes glows bright tonight. It is filled with the quiet strength in the way she holds herself, even when surrounded by those who underestimate her. I tighten my grip on her waist, and draw her a fraction closer. “No one in this room can compare to you.”
Nora swallows, and I can see the pulse in her neck quicken. Heat blooms across her skin, and my own body temperature rises in response. “ You are above every woman here. They watch you, envy you, but they will never be you. And I will not allow them to speak as if you are anything less.”
Nora’s breath catches again. Even though she hasn’t said anything in return, I can feel the way she is responding to my words. Her self doubts are beginning to melt away in my arms.
The song changes, away from the formal cadence of the Waltz, and into something a bit more slow and sensual. I spin her around, my fingers grazing across the bare skin on her back. I sharply pull her back against me, much closer than before—claiming her.
I flit a brief glance towards the bridal party, their earlier smugness replaced with disbelief. But I don’t care enough to waste more than a split second on them. They do not exist—only she does.
I fight with everything I have in order to suppress my arousal. Nora’s pulse hammers in her throat. I lean in, just enough that my lips nearly graze the shell of her ear. “You deserve to be worshipped, Nora.” I pause, and brush my thumb over her spine, sending shivers down her back. “And I am a man who protects what is mine.”
Nora’s breath stutters. She doesn’t respond—she can’t. Not when the weight of my words are unraveling her, piece by piece. I catch Tyson’s eyes practically burning a hole into Nora’s back. I can tell by his angered posture, he knows he has lost. He throws back the rest of his drink, and slams his glass down on the bar counter before sulking away.
Mine.