Sipping it down far too easily, I continue my vigilance, and my eyes fall on the face of a woman watching me across the room. Considering her, I know immediately it is not Georgia, yet the intensity of her gaze makes me continue to look. She is statuesque, perhaps even as tall as I am, blonde, and very attractive in a low-cut, flowing, golden yellow dress. Although she stands in a small circle of others, she is clearly ignoring the conversation. Perhaps I am overthinking the situation, and she is simply a bit bored. Seeing my interest, she tilts her head invitingly, and I realize then I am sending the wrong signal. Yet, before I shake my head, Lila’s hand is on my forearm. “She likes you,” she says, and I glance to take in the look on her face. I can't quite read her expression. Amusement? Irritation? “You should go ask her to dance.”
This catches me off guard. It is the last thing I want, and before I stop myself, I blurt out my response. “She is not who I want to dance with.” At this, Lila returns my gaze. Again, a moment passes between us, and unable to help myself, I continue. “I want to dance with you.” For another moment, she doesn't respond, and I realize I made a mistake. Whatever I am reading as attraction is most clearly not, and a wave of embarrassment washes over me. I have made an ass of myself and swiftly finish my champagne.
As I watch, she finishes her drink in a long swallow too and moves to set it on the nearby cocktail table, before holding out a hand to me. “I’d like that.” Beyond surprised, but now in a position I don’t dare refuse, I follow her example of setting down the glass before taking her hand. Without a word, she leads me to the small, half-filled dance floor. A popular dance song is playing, and immediately, Lila sways to the beat. I dance as well while appreciating the way her hips move to the music, and the image of me grasping them while I pull her closer fills my mind. The desire to press my body against hers is intense, and I wonder if the champagne is affecting me. Only the fast music saves me from reaching out.
Then, as if the universe wants to torture me, the music shifts to a slow song, and Lila slides closer putting her hands on my shoulders. As a shiver of hunger runs through me, I gently embrace her else I do something to embarrass both of us. Still, the feel of her in my arms is heaven. Nothing on earth could make me leave the dance floor now. The lyrics speak of longing for lost love, needing someone now, and I am captivated by all of it—the music, the feel of her under my hands, the scent of her hair as I lean in closer while knowing I shouldn’t. No doubt sensing my attraction, Lila lifts her face, and I feel her breath on my neck. This is too much, and a throb builds between my legs. If we keep going, I don't know that I can contain my desire for her. And I must. Pulling back a little, the answer is simple. I will politely finish this dance, and then perhaps excuse myself for the night. As much as I want to keep her safe, I think tonight I am the one she needs to be safe from.
8
Focusing on the music, on the lights, on anything but how good Lila feels in my arms, I am desperate to distract myself. It is not working. The tightness low on my body spreads until I can’t help but pull her tighter against me. A small gasp from her lips near my chin makes my heart race even faster, and I suddenly find it hard to breathe. This might be for the best as the scent of her perfume, so light, with a touch of something floral is only making the situation worse. The impulse to run my lips along her neck to relish the scent of her is so hard to resist, I feel myself physically shaking. My only hope is my subtle swaying movement to the music covers my agitation.
“Jael,” I hear her whisper, the sound husky, her face so close I feel the heat of the word on my skin.
“Lila,” is all I muster as a response fearing anything I might say right now would ruin this delicate moment. A moment that should not be happening, but I am powerless to end.
“I can't…” she murmurs as her voice trails off. I furrow my brow at the slight change in her tone. Although she is still close enough to me, her body continues to brush against mine, there is a change.
I pull back enough to look into her face. “Are you okay?”
Her blue eyes regard me while she bites her lip before looking away. “I just can’t.” Before I ask what she means, the song changes to something faster. Clearly seeing a good time to get away from me when she has one, Lila steps back. I drop my hands, not sure what to do other than apologize for taking advantage of what was no doubt her simply being nice in agreeing to dance. I am such an idiot. Asking her was bold enough, but then I basically held her captive for the slow song. Someone as pleasant as Lila would never embarrass me publicly by storming off the dance floor, even when I acted so inappropriately.
“Please, let me apologize—” I can’t even finish before she turns away and hurries toward the exit. God, I have been so offensive she is actually leaving the party. I want to slap myself for what I have done. “Don’t go.” She either doesn’t hear my last plea, or she ignores it and slips into the hall. Needing to fix this and then assure her I will resign in the morning, I follow, using my long strides to catch up to her at the elevator. The doors open as I arrive and when she steps aboard, then turns to me, I see a mix of emotions in her beautiful eyes. One of them is sadness, and a knife through my heart could not hurt me more.
The doors start to slide shut, and the best thing will be to let her go, yet I cannot force myself to just stand there. At the last moment, I step on with her as the doors close and press the stop button to pause the car. Lila's eyes widen, but she does not step back. Now we are again face to face, with her chin lifted to look up at me. The urge to kiss her makes me swallow hard. “Please let me apologize,” I try again in a whisper, and she looks away with a shake of her head.
“No,” she says. “Don't do that. I can't bear it.”
I blink, confused. Her statement doesn't make sense to me. I open my mouth to ask what she means, but her eyes return to mine, and the regret in them makes me pause.
“You don’t understand. I can’t get involved with anyone right now. I made an arrangement with the club that for a year…” She shakes her head in frustration. “Like probation for falling for Georgia’s tricks.”
“I see.” There seems nothing else to say. I can read between the lines of her statement. Although she may feel some attraction to me, she won’t act on it. She can’t. I wish I could say I am relieved, because my desire for her is so unprofessional, but the reality there is no chance for us hits me like a blow. There is something about the woman I cannot seem to stop thinking about, and my attraction to her will not fade easily. If ever. Reaching for the elevator stop button to restart our ascent, I am surprised to feel her hand touch my shoulder.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” she says, a hint of pleading in her voice, and suddenly I can’t stand holding back. The fact she thinks I might be even the slightest bit angry at her is too much. Without a word in response, I grasp her hand and pull her closer. The desire to kiss her clouds my thinking, but this may be my only chance, so I don’t stop myself. My mouth covers hers, wanting, demanding. Lila hesitates, but for only a second, and then returns it, slipping her arms around my neck to pull me in. A moan escapes my throat knowing she wants me, and as she opens her lips to invite me in, I use my tongue to take the kiss deeper. When she doesn't resist but instead returns my hunger with her own tongue, it lights me on fire. Lila is such a contradiction. So elegant, so delicate, and yet her kiss is more passionate than any I have ever felt. With a growl in my throat, wanting to consume her, the kiss is not enough.