Chapter Nineteen
After dinner, a swathe of discreet staff pushed the tables to one side, creating a more informal space for guests to mingle and dance.
The champagne was still flowing and a band had set up, with a woman of about my age belting out everyone’s favourite hits from the last couple of decades in the most angelic voice.
Everyone was dancing, even Marcus, even me – it wasn’t something I’d ever done as a child because Cassie didn’t like it and so none of us were allowed to get up on the dance floor at weddings and parties.
Obviously, when I wasn’t with my family I didn’t hold back, but there was still something inside of me that couldn’t fully let go the way some people did.
The way Marcus danced surprised me – I would have imagined him to be like me, a little self-conscious, holding back, but he was really going for it, his body moving easily to the beat, his arms in the air.
It was the most joyful I’d ever seen him and it was catching – even Patrick was swaying his hips to the music, a contrast to the controlled and emotionally reserved man I saw out on court.
When the tempo dropped and the band played the opening bars of Rihanna’s ‘Stay’, I went to move to the side of the dance floor, but Marcus caught my arm.
‘Shall we?’ he asked, his gaze warm and relaxed.
‘I don’t know . . .’ I said.
‘Come on,’ he said persuasively, holding out his hand. ‘Indulge me. Tomorrow I’ll be back to training and everything will be all serious again. Tonight I just want to have a good time.’
My eyes flitted around the room. Lots of people were dancing, it wouldn’t mean anything.
‘Dean would probably be upset with us if we didn’t,’ I said, letting him pull me with him into the centre of the wooden dance floor so that we were surrounded by lots of other couples, effectively making it feel as though we were cocooned and hidden from sight, even though there were cameras everywhere.
‘I love this song,’ said Marcus, twirling me around to face him and sliding his arms around my waist.
‘Yeah?’ I said, tentatively hooking my hands behind his neck, using the feel of him to give me stability.
We swayed in time to the music, our hips perfectly in sync. ‘You’re actually a really good dancer,’ I said.
Marcus laughed. ‘You seem surprised.’
‘It’s just that I’ve never slow-danced with somebody with actual rhythm before.’
‘Oh, I’ve definitely got that,’ he said, pulling me closer and swinging me around so that we were facing the opposite way.
Over his shoulder I could see what looked like a TV crew, their camera seemingly pointing right at us.
‘What’s going on?’ Marcus whispered in my ear.
‘Someone’s videoing us . . .’ I said, burying my head in his shoulder.
Marcus swung me back around the other way.
‘There. Now you can’t see them,’ he said, as the music reached its rousing crescendo.
Instinctively, I wrapped my arms more tightly around him.
It was risky – I could feel his body responding to my touch.
In that moment, I didn’t care about all the other girls he’d been photographed with, or whether he’d had this same connection with all of them.
I deserved to have some fun, didn’t I? I was dancing in the most exquisite room with a gorgeous man, and I was not going to ruin it by thinking about all the things that could go wrong.
Nothing about it felt wrong, so maybe it wasn’t?
When he slid his hand up my back, I imagined how it would feel if my dress wasn’t there, if he was touching my skin without anything in between.
I shivered at the thought and acknowledged the truth to myself, there and then – I one hundred per cent did not have to fake liking him anymore.
‘I should probably call it a night soon,’ said Marcus. ‘If that’s okay with you?’
‘Course,’ I said, a whole host of emotions suddenly rushing through my head.
I couldn’t be alone with him. I wanted to be alone with him. He liked me. He didn’t. I liked him. I couldn’t.
As the track ended, he took my hand and led me off the dance floor.
We’d said our goodbyes downstairs and had taken the stairs up to the room because the lifts were so busy – it seemed that quite a few of the gala guests had had the same idea and were staying here at the hotel.
I’d just seen Anton Bauer and his girlfriend heading up to their room, and they’d waved at us as the lift doors closed on them.
We didn’t speak much on the way up to our floor. I let myself into our room with Marcus close behind me. It was quiet inside after the music and laughter downstairs, and just the right side of cool. I slipped off my heels and looked at the bed.
‘Well, that was fun,’ said Marcus, coming to stand next to me.
I nodded. ‘It was.’
‘Shall I get ready for bed first, or did you want to?’ he asked, pulling off his shoes, loosening his tie. He seemed calm. Easy. Everything I wasn’t.
‘You go for it,’ I said, perching awkwardly on the end of the bed while he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
I used the time – all of about five minutes – to try to get my head together, failing dismally, of course. When he reappeared wearing joggers and a T-shirt, I almost lost my nerve completely and called myself an Uber. How could he look that hot in a simple loungewear ensemble?
‘Your turn,’ he said, smiling at me, still seemingly unbothered by how things were about to pan out.
‘Cool,’ I said, even though it was anything but.
I scurried into the bathroom with my wash bag, overthinking whether or not I should shower.
Whether the cotton shorts and camisole combo I’d brought with me to wear overnight was too cutesy, or too see-through.
Should I take my make-up off or leave it on?
In the end, I just got changed, slicked back my hair, washed my face and used one of the lovely body lotions the hotel had laid out for us to sample.
Then I cleaned my teeth and went back into the bedroom.
Marcus was already in bed. His top half was naked now and I could only hope that his bottom half was not, otherwise I was going to be in serious trouble here.
The lighting was warm and cosy and I was sure the housekeepers had sprayed something in the room before we came up to bed because it smelled divine, like amber and oranges. The kind of sexy scent I loved.
‘Coming in?’ said Marcus, putting his phone down on the bedside table and watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite place.
‘I presume you have got some clothes on?’ I said.
‘Worried you won’t be able to control yourself if I haven’t?’ he teased.
‘Very funny,’ I said, slipping into bed next to him.
Luckily, it was a super-king. I wouldn’t need to touch him at all, if I just stayed right here, flat on my back, looking up at the ornate carvings on the ceiling.
‘Alone at last,’ he said.
‘So many cameras tonight,’ I said.
‘Do we only kiss when they’re around?’ he asked.
Jesus.
‘Well, what on earth would be the point otherwise?’ I said.
‘I can think of a point.’
I closed my eyes. If I couldn’t see him, maybe it would all be okay. I’d just drift off to sleep, forgetting that delectable Marcus Taylor, tennis star, elite athlete, all-round hot guy, was lying half naked next to me.
‘Ava?’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you think we should talk?’
‘About what?’ I asked, stalling for time.
‘The fact that we’re in bed together. That you’re going to be sleeping right next to me for an entire night in those shorts . . .’
He liked my shorts.
I tentatively turned on my side. He was already on his, facing me, his mouth inches away. I could feel the heat of him under the covers.
‘I really don’t think this is a good idea,’ I said, as he reached out and took my face between his hands, looking at me – really looking at me.
‘You’re right. It’s a terrible idea,’ he said, kissing me gently and then pulling back almost instantly.
‘We should stop,’ I said, groaning as his hand found its way underneath my camisole and he stroked my back so softly, so carefully that I almost caved in and pulled him on top of me.
‘Remind me why?’ he said, his breath warm on my mouth.
‘It’s already too complicated.’
‘What’s wrong with complicated?’ he asked, his hand now skimming down the back of my thigh and sending waves of pleasure pulsating through my body.
‘It’s too soon. After Charlie,’ I said, not quite meaning that, but not sure how to express exactly what I was feeling either. Which was that I didn’t want to get hurt, not again, and that I was ninety-nine per cent certain that Marcus would end up hurting me.
‘You’re scared,’ he whispered.
‘I know,’ I said.
‘Me, too,’ he lied.
Or at least I assumed he did. What would he have to be scared of?
‘Let’s just sleep,’ I suggested.
He removed his hand from my leg and I ached for him to put it right back on again, but I had to stay strong.
‘Ava, I have the feeling that this is going to be a very long night,’ he said with a sigh.
And then we smiled at each other and I turned to face the bathroom and he turned out the lights and I heard his breath become slower and slower.
Every time I swallowed I was sure he could hear it, and I wasn’t tired in the slightest – how could I be, when my body was full of adrenaline?
Because now, of course, I knew what it felt like when he really kissed me.