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She spies over my shoulder and winks. “There’s a film about some weirdo who invented something? Started five minutes ago.”
I wink. “Perfect.”
We grab our tickets, a big box of popcorn and head indoors. The darkness of the cinema screen is most welcome, as is the fact it’s only oldies in at this time of day. We seat ourselves right at the back.
I’m repeating to myself not to kiss him again, not to let myself think of himlike thatand definitelynot like that… when we get ourselves seated. It’s warm in the theatre, so I remove my jacket and he his. He lifts the armrest between us, wraps an arm around my shoulders and tugs me into his side, sitting the box of popcorn between his spread thighs. He’s staring at the screen with a dirty grin on his face as I repeatedly take popcorn and shove it into my mouth.
After five minutes, I’m no clearer as to what this film is about, and I know for sure I’m not going to be able to take any of it in. Not with him next to me.
Worst idea. Ever.
He gets tired of the popcorn and notices I’m not eating either. Dumping it on the floor, he winks and all sorts of images flash through my mind—including the possibility of the cinema staff tossing what we haven’t eaten right back into the popcorn-warming machine.
I have a grin in my eyes when he looks at me (I’m still thinking about the recycled popcorn) and he interprets it another way. No sooner are alarm bells ringing, when he drags my hand off my lap and into his, then lifts my knuckles to his mouth to kiss them.
Fighting the urge not to close my eyes at the sensation of Albie’s warm, soft mouth against my hand in such an affectionate and admiring way, I also have to try really hard not to smile.
Last week I could never conceive that dreams might come true, after all.
This week, it seems, I’ve got him in the palm of my hand—literally—kissing it. I touch his thigh with my free hand and lift my mouth slightly to whisper, “Please, stop.”
“Why?” he breathes huskily, moving on so he’s kissing the inside of my wrist instead—the wretch.
“You know why.”
“Cos it’s dark and the film is boring as shit and it’s dangerous when it’s just us and old gits in here?”
Stifling my laugh against his shirted shoulder, he can no doubt feel as I shudder with suppressed amusement.
Albie creates gooseflesh up and down my body as he strokes his fingertips along my forearm, up to my shoulder, then pulls me firmly into him and turns his own body so that my right breast which is closest to him is firmly pushed against his ribs.
He lifts the hand he was just caressing my arm with to cup my cheek instead and shakes slightly as he stares down into my eyes. He looks serious for once. Nor do I think I’ve ever seen him look at another woman the way he’s looking at me right now—but, it could still be a lie. All I want is for him to tell me it isn’t a lie just to get me into bed. His biggest conquest: the girl who doesn’t sleep around. All I want is for him to say it isn’t about sex. It’s about love.
“Do you mean it?” I tremble, searching his eyes.
He tugs me closer so both my breasts are crushed to him and he’s nuzzling his nose to mine. I wrap both arms around his neck and he nips my top lip ever so slightly. It sends waves of desire and happiness flowing through me, from head to toe.
My eyes are shut when he says against my mouth, “I mean it,” and then his kiss seals the deal.
His tongue aggressively parts my lips even though I’d gladly open to him. We’re instantly kissing open-mouthed and I’m worried that even the OAPs a few rows ahead will hear us over the loud din from the speakers. Albie’s hunger and longing is matched by my own, my hands grasping his biceps, his shoulders and neck, as I grow desperate inside this fire of ours. Throwing my head back, his mouth greedily sucks against my throat. Then when he places a hand just beneath my breast, maddening me even more, I nearly scream.
“Do you wanna ditch this?” he says, panting.
“Go back to mine?” I’m gasping.
“Yeah.”
His eyes have grown hungrier and I’m insatiable for his kiss.
“Kiss me some more first.”
His smile is brighter and wider than Piccadilly Circus as he moves in and tenderly nips my top lip, then the bottom. He has one arm trapping me against him but his free hand comes up and he smooths his thumb across my mouth. Tears well in my eye sockets but I don’t know if he can see them in the dark or if the flashing lights have given my eyes a glassy effect anyway.
I wonder if he knows I’m emotional after his kiss begins tender this time, sweeping across my mouth until I groan gutturally and sink inside his firm embrace, my hands clinging to his shirt. He kisses me deeply but softly, without the intention of breaking me, though break me he does. Feeling weak and feeble, I let him have control as he comforts my weary soul to the very bottom of its aching depths. The muscles between my thighs have tightened for him in a way they never have, not for anyone before today.
When he pulls away, we’re both shocked. His jaw is slack and he is shaking tremendously. I know from the way he has to pull his jeans legs down a little, he’s not going to be able to walk out of here for a few minutes yet. Indeed, I can smell my own sex and it’s only these other patrons that are hindering us fucking—right here, right now.
Albie reads my mind, whispering in my ear, “You smell delicious… seems neither of us is decent enough to leave.”
