“Your hair,” I muttered, wishing like hell I’d just kept the compliment to myself. “It smells like honey.”
He stared for another second before his confusion vanished into another smile. A burst of quiet laughter echoed in the air between us as we started swaying once more. “Abby,” he said.
“Huh?” I asked, looking up at him in confusion. “You’re not trying to guess my name, are you? I thought we agreed on no names.”
“No,” he said with another laugh. “Abby’s...a friend. She sent a bucket of this shampoo for my birthday. For reasons I have yet to understand, she found the gift hilarious.”
I smiled in spite of myself, inspired by the broad smile he seldom lost. Everything about him was contagious; it was impossible not to smile in return.
“Happy late birthday then, and your friend did well with the shampoo. It smells delicious.”
He grinned again. “She’ll be happy someone noticed. She’s my best friend’s wife.”
“Oh.”
Those were the last words spoken between us for a while as the music picked up speed and our bodies reacted accordingly. We writhed, grinded, and swayed with a sexual fluidity I didn’t think myself capable of until that very moment. Before long, the two of us were damp with sweat. Our breath came in quiet, shallow bursts as we gripped each other, our eyes dancing with an explosion of flashing neon.
“I love the way you smile,” he said. “It’s the very first thing I noticed.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you live here in London?” I asked quietly, emboldened by the alcohol and hedonistic mood. As we locked eyes, I found myself winding my arms around his neck.
“Sometimes.” He dipped his head and kissed me just below the ear, pressing his lips against the soft skin at the edge of my jaw. “Do you?”
“I just moved here,” I answered, closing my eyes as he repeated the kiss on the other side, leaving a trail of raw nerve endings in his wake. “Got a new job. I start tomorrow.”
He nodded silently and naughtily slipped his hands inside the back of my dress. “Does that mean I have to tuck you into bed at a certain time?”
I laughed nervously at just the thought and struggled to keep my cool. “Not at all. The night’s young.”
The tip of his thumb grazed my ribs, electrifying my skin and causing my heart to palpate and stutter in my chest.
“Another drink then?”
How about ten of them? To calm my nerves.
“Vodka tonic?” I said, giving a grateful nod.
He disappeared with a wink and easily found his way through the masses of gyrating people, leaving me to stare after him in a daze, still wondering if I was dreaming after all.
Okay, is this really happening? Am I awake right now? I pinched my skin discreetly between two fingernails. Did I even get off the plane? Maybe I’m passed out somewhere at JFK.
I giggled at my own foolishness, staring at the precise spot where I’d lost sight of my captivating dance partner in the crowd. I’d gone to London for a fresh start, to leave the old me behind and try something new, and he definitely qualified.
As I was pondering my good fortune, a heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I spun around to find myself face to face with a caricature of every drunken rugby player I’d ever seen. His bugged-out eyes shamelessly devoured me from head to toe.
“Bless my eyes! It’s an angel, in the flesh. What do you say, love? Care for a dance?”
For some reason, as an American, I often found myself caught off guard by the British lilt, which made everything sound a hell of a lot more charming than it actually was. Now, the living proof was standing right there in front of me, spilling that accent all over me with a whole pub’s worth of cider on his breath.
“No, thank you...Chip,” I answered as politely as I could, taking note of the name on crumpled ID affixed to his jacket. “I’m waiting for someone.”
My refusal was plain and clear in any version of English, North American or otherwise, yet his unwelcomed hand remained. In fact, his stubby fingers actually tightened and yanked me a step closer.
“We’ll make it a quick one then.” A cloud of beer breath wafted into my face as he towered over me, peering down my dress. “I swear you’ll like it. We can—”
“The lady said no.”