As well as being ahilariousjoke, it was another raunchy number, full of double entendres about ‘going down’. He evidently had a predilection for naff eighties hair metal that I secretly shared.
What followed wasn’t pretty. Steven Tyler is one of the great voices of modern rock, and anyone would sound bad trying to imitate him, but I was truly terrible. I couldn’t hit the high notes and didn’t do much better with the lower ones either. I’d obviously been singing the lyrics wrong all my life, because the ones that were coming up on the screen were new to me.What the hell was a ‘sassafras’?
At last, the instrumental break arrived and I’d never been so happy to hear a second-rate Joe Perry guitar solo in my life. It was precious breathing space. I’d kept my eyes fixed on the screen the whole time, but now stole a glance at Nick.
He had his eyes closed and was thumping his hands on his thighs in time with the music.
Now that I knew he wasn’t watching me, I felt a bit less self-conscious and threw myself into the rest of the song. I even added some dance moves. I couldn’t sing, but no one could accuse me of not knowing how to shake my booty.
When I next looked up, Nick’s eyes had snapped open.
Great, now it looked like I was doing a private dance for him. I turned away and tried to finish the song with the same level of confidence.
My vocal cords felt shredded by the end, but there was something cathartic about filling my lungs and belting out a damn good tune.
Nick clapped when I finished. ‘Brava!’
I did a mock bow. ‘Thank you very much.’
‘I mean, you sounded like someone was prising off your fingernails with a flat-head screwdriver, but top marks for trying.’
My mouth dropped open. ‘Cheeky bastard!’
He grinned. ‘Encore?’
‘After that ringing endorsement?’
‘I’ll put it on random and see what it comes up with.’
The machine whirred for a couple of seconds, then the slow swing of ‘I’ve Got You Under My Skin’ filled the booth. Nick’s smile faded, and instead he was staring at me as if trying to decide something.
I squirmed, suddenly feeling I was being examined under a microscope.
He walked over and pulled the mic from my grasp. ‘Enough singing.’
I swallowed. ‘Is this because of the flat-head screwdriver thing?’
He tossed the microphone onto the bench. ‘Dance with me.’
Without waiting for me to respond, he took my hands, placing one on his shoulder and wrapping the other in his. Meanwhile, his right hand was skimming the small of my back and I could feel his feather-light touch through the thin cotton of my dress.
He was close enough for me to make out the black flecks in his green irises. Close enough to see the furrows on his bottom lip close enough to count the black dots of his five o’clock shadow.
I was starting to feel out of breath so I turned my head and rested it on his breastbone. I’d done it so I wouldn’t have to gaze up at him, but I hadn’t realised how intimate it would feel. Or how good.
The rise and fall of his chest was slow, but I was struggling to keep my breathing light. I wanted to take great lungfuls of air; there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. There wasn’t anything in the room. There was only Nick.
My first mistake was to look up. My second was to let my eyes wander to his mouth. His lips were parted, and something in me snapped.
Instantly, I was pulling his head towards me. Then his arms were wrapped around my body and our lips touched. Desire surged through me, as I deepened the kiss and my hands scrabbled down his back, feeling the heat and the hardness and the longing as he leant into me. My fingers reached under the hem of his top and found warm skin and then I think I lost time.
Jesus Christ, the man could kiss.
The part of my brain that was still working wasn’t surprised by that. Whatwasshocking was my own reaction. My knees were shaking, and my heart skipping beats. And was it me making those little mewling noises? Probably, because after a particularly loud one, Nick broke contact and lifted his head.
‘Are you okay?’ His voice was so raspy, it made me want to tear off his shirt with my teeth.
Before I could act on that, or any of the other impulses I was having involving a naked Nick – preferably back at my flat, but here in the booth wasn’t a deal-breaker – the door opened and a barman walked in.
