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During our meal, I lean over and stab at his food, stealing bites of asparagus off his dinner plate. It’s totally unlike me, but it’s just too fun to tease him.
He pretends to be annoyed. “Eat your own vegetables, woman! The audacity.”
“Yours are better.” I pout. “Mine don’t have the right…crisp to them.”
He gives me a soft, adoring gaze. I feel like I’m shimmering under the glow of it. “Oh, well, then if the crisp is wrong…” he moves his plate closer, giving me permission to take the rest.
I offer the rest of my pot roast in exchange, and we laugh, deciding to swap desserts, too. Somehow our chairs end up closer and closer as the evening carries on. And I know I’ve been drinking more than I usually would. But right now, I need something to soothe the fizzing nerves this man is making me feel.
At the table to our right, Luke keeps doing obnoxiously extravagant things, and it’s getting harder to pretend he doesn’t exist.
“It’s all a show to try and get your attention,” Harry whispers into my ear.
“That’s absurd,” I say, relishing the rush of tingles that erupt on my neck when his warm breath grazes me there. “That man didn’t want my attention when he had it. What the hell would he want with it now?”
“Maybe he’s finally waking up to the fact that he’s a big idiot, letting you walk away,” Harry mumbles so only I can hear. And I smile at how sweet he’s being to me.
All I know is Luke has been making an absolute clown of himself all night. Earlier, he knelt down in the middle of the floor just to adjust his girlfriend’s shoe strap which had come undone. Later, he made a scene flagging down a server to send back Bambi’s non-vegetarian plate. Now, he’s standing behind her chair and giving her a shoulder massage, all while she moans out loud.
I can feel him staring at me the whole time, which is creepy as hell. So, I lean into Harry, trying to ignore my ex.
Harry looks at me, clearly startled when my cheek burrows against his shoulder.
“Is…is this okay?” I ask, not wanting to cross any lines.
“Yeah. It’s…it’s good.” His surprise fades and he relaxes again. His arm tightening around my shoulder feels so natural, so easy.
I breathe him in. I get caught up in the musk of his cologne and the heat of his skin. He drops his chin against the crown of my head, then he lets his lips brush across my forehead. I’m slowly drifting to a place where I forget that this is all for show.
In our little cocoon, Luke and his displays are the last thing on my mind. I’m just here, absorbing this man.
The live band starts playing a breathtaking rendition of Taylor Swift’sLover, and I sigh.
“You wanna dance?” Harry asks quietly.
I ease back and smile up at him. “I’d like that.”
He leads me to the dance floor, my hand clasped in his the whole time. We turn and face each other. His arms come around me, strong and possessive and perfect.
But I feel stiff in his hold.
Because out in the open like this, on the dance floor, I can feel people staring, questioning, wondering about him and me. I feel self-conscious and now I’m wishing I hadn’t accepted his invitation to dance. Suddenly, all of this feels like a bad idea.
In perfect contrast to my inner conflict, Harry is more confident than ever. He hauls me closer, making my breath hitch.God—I love a confident man.
“You’re too far away, Dream Girl.” He tips my face up with one hand while his other hand skims up my side, his touch seeping through the fabric of my dress. “We’ve got to make it look real. Remember?”
“Right…” I whisper, his eyes and his fingers and his chest pressed to mine all put a spell on me.
Harry doesn’t miss a beat of the music. His body moves seamlessly, taking mine along with his.
My brain is not functioning properly. My only thought is how good his touch feels as it slides from my collarbone down the length of my arm. His fingers curl around my wrist, then he places my palm on his chest.
“My heart is beating so crazy for you right now,” he admits with a soft chuckle. “Do you feel it?”
“I feel it,” I say, refusing to confess that my heart is beating to that same crazy pattern, too.
But now that my hand is on his body, I find myself growing curious. I find myself wanting to explore him. My palm wanders downward from his heart where he laid it. My fingers discreetly slip beneath the lapel of his tuxedo.
