“I mean, you, Mr. Serious Bruce Wayne saying the word ‘fluffle’ in your seductive, deep voice is just . . . strangely charming.”
“You find me seductive and charming?” Bruce’s grin lights up his eyes when he catches the meaning in my words, but I have no regrets in being so transparent. The guy’s bloody attractive, and I have one night with him. There’s no harm in letting him know where he stands. But, there’s also no harm in holding some of my cards close to my chest, so I shrug nonchalantly as I reply.
“Sure.”
He steps closer, eliminating the small space between us, causing goosebumps to erupt all over my body. But it’s not just goosebumps. It’s an electric charge; static crackling between two live ports, waiting to ignite. It’s lightening crackling through the sky, illuminating the neighbourhood in one sharp shock of light.
“What else, Jessica? What else do you find attractive in me?” He utters in my ear, the deep timbre of his voice pulsing through me. I place my hand on his chest and rise up on my tiptoes, so my mouth is close to his ear.
“I guess you’ll need to charm me some more to find out,” I reply, then slowly and deliberately lick the space below his ear before backing down. With a wink and a smile, I turn around and walk back to the dance floor, ensuring I do my girl, RuPaul, proud by sashaying away.
The DJ changes the track to one of my favourites by Sean Paul and I start to lose myself in the music, feeling the beat and letting my dance moves take over. I sense his presence before I feel his arms slowly snake around my waist as he pulls me closer to his body. Despite our height difference, my hips sit perfectly against his, and I suspect he’s compensating a little, when I feel his knees tuck in behind mine. We’re a snug fit together and that knowledge gives me the push to continue our cat and mouse—or in our case, bat and bunny—game.
“Does this mean you’ve decided to charm me, then?” I say over my shoulder. Despite having to yell a little over the loud beats of the music, I’m confident only Bruce can hear my words. A quick look at the others around me confirm my suspicions as they’re lost in their only little dancing bubbles.
“It means you’re driving me crazy, Little Rabbit,” he growls in my ear. “You think you can leave me hanging and not expect me to want more? Lick my ear and think I won’t do anything about it?” Bruce places both his hands on my hips and pulls me closer still, so close I can feel the hard ridge in his trousers pressing against me. “Tell me, Jessica, what do you sound like when you cuss? Does your pretty mouth pout as it adds extra consonants to your words? Draw them out in your cute British accent?” In a bid to replicate my actions from earlier, he sucks my earlobe into his mouth, his whiskey-flavoured breath mingling with the woodsy smell of aftershave. It’s a heady, intoxicating mix that I know will haunt my dreams for weeks to come. My knees weaken as he sucks my earlobe one more time before releasing it, and I’m thankful he still has his hands steadying me, otherwise I’d surely be a puddle on the floor.
I turn to face him and place my arms loosely around his neck. “Are you making fun of my accent?” I tease him.
“Hell no. I’m having fantasies of how I can get that pretty little mouth of yours to talk dirty to me.”
“Oh, then you need to work a little harder. My pretty little mouth doesn’t talk dirty for just anyone.”
As Bruce is about to reply, I feel someone knock into the back of me, catching me off guard and causing me to lose my balance. I topple forward a little as I teeter on my heels, but Bruce has a lightening quick reaction and manages to catch me by my arms and steady me against him. As in,completelyagainst him. We’re now toe-to-toe, body-to-body and it’s not an unpleasant feeling. Not at all. Our mouths are a whisper’s breath away from each other. The slight centimetre forward would cause them to touch. We freeze in our position for what feels like minutes, hours, and Bruce’s eyes roam around my face, before dipping to study my mouth. I recognise the signs, I’ve read enough about it in books to know he wants to kiss me. I’d be lying if I said the feeling wasn’t reciprocated. I desperately want to feel his firm mouth against mine, to know if those lips are strong and domineering or soft and gentle.
Without any self-control I slowly lick my lips which causes his own to part. His eyes are now an obsidian black, almost camouflaged against his mask, all traces of the chocolate brown lost completely. My body takes over and I feel myself rising on my toes before my mind realises it’s made a conscious decision to do so, and Bruce lowers his head to meet me halfway.
The kiss is gentle at first. The smallest of nips as our lips barely touch. Then his mouth crashes against mine. Firm jaw, hard mouth, soft lips, smooth touch; it’s all four of those things combined in one heady rush of a kiss. He barely has to seek entry before I find myself granting him access, opening my mouth against his. His tongue lavishes mine, and I lean in closer as if I’m trying to fuse us together. My hands grasp at the back of his neck, pulling him into me, and he gladly follows, his hands running up the backs of my thighs until they’re cupping my arse, covered in the barely there underwear I have on. One of his fingers slowly dips under the elastic and I simultaneously gasp and groan. He swallows the sound, before nipping at my lips one last time and drawing back, putting an annoying, unwanted gap between us.
“Tell me, Jessica Rabbit, have you ever done anything spontaneous?” he asks, his voice a deep growl from want.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask him, intrigued and yet wanting to get right back to what was hands-down the best kiss of my life.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, his eyes boring into mine.
Do I trust him? I’ve known him for barely a couple of hours. I’m unlikely to see him again after this. I mean, I don’t even know what the guy looks like, where he’s from, what he does. We’re playing a game, one of two different personas flirting and dancing around in a peacock-like ritual before claiming each other. What would I do if I was back in England, at one of the university parties? Undoubtedly, I’d be Miss Play-It-Safe. I’d take a photo of his driver’s license and text it to my friend. I’d ask what he’s studying, what halls of residence he’s in, where he’s from. Dammit, I’d even ask him what his parents do for a living. I’d ask him twenty questions, maybe arrange a second date, make him pass the friends’ test first before even considering anything remotely spontaneous.
But, I’m not in England now. I’m not even being myself. I’m an alter ego. I’m a vixen. I’m being someone different for the night. He knows as much about me as I do about him, and yet, he clearly trusts me enough to want to be spontaneous. So, do I trust him? Yes, I trust him enough to know I’m safe. Still, I need to make sure.
“I think the question is,canI trust you?”
“I promise you’re safe with me. I’m a superhero remember? But, in my day job, I’m also a decent guy. I won’t disrespect you.” Bruce’s voice rings with sincerity, and I know it’s not an alcohol-induced promise, as we’ve only had one drink in all the time we’ve spent together. The guy has his wits about him.
“Then yes, I trust you.”
Bruce nods once, a signal confirming the promise he’s just made. “Then, come with me.” He takes my hand securely in his and leads me off the dance floor. As I pass Steph and Hogan, they both give me the thumbs up and Steph quickly says, “he’s good people,” in my ear. It’s the reassurance I need, even though I don’t have the time to actually digest it. He must be known to them if he’s at Hogan’s party.
We pass the food table and Bruce let’s go of my hand temporarily, as he picks up a bowl and fills it with chocolate from the chocolate fountain.
“Peckish?” I ask, both intrigued and amused.
I’m rewarded with a dirty, devilish grin as he replies, “Call it being creative . . .”
With my hand in his again, he leads me out of the door and left into the corridor leading to the cloakroom. Once there, he quickly opens the door to the small cubicle and we walk in, before he closes it and locks it behind him.
“I need to make sure. Do you trust me?” he asks one more time.
“Yes.” I simply reply.