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I mime zipping my lips closed, then take Lucy’s hand. She lets me, thank god.
“See you on the other side, boss.”
* * *
“What did Mr Corbin mean by that? When he said about keeping your distance?”
Two hours of dancing, chatting, and sniping canapes from servers’ trays later, Lucy finally voices the question that has been chewing on her mind.
It’s been bothering her. Doesn’t take a detective to notice. When Lucy is preoccupied, she gets this little pinch in her eyebrows and she nibbles on her plump bottom lip.
It’s been sweet torture, watching those pearly white teeth sink into her pillowy lip. So I’ve been waiting impatiently, my chest tight, for her to ask the question that will sink this whole night.
Because this isn’tpractice.This isn’t fake—not to me.
I mean every dance, every teasing whisper, every time I tuck her hair behind her ear. Every drink I bring Lucy is an offering from my heart.
Rusty, useless heart though it may be.
So when Lucy finally asks, my stomach churns with dread. This is it. And I won’t lie to her, but… perhaps this night can last a little longer before the sweet, shy accountant demands to go home and never wants to see me again.
“First, let’s run through your lessons so far.” It’s easy to take Lucy’s elbow and tug her gently into the crowd, nudging a path to the center of the dance floor. The breeze is strong this high up on the rooftop, ruffling skirts and teasing the guests’ hair, but I’m overheating under my suit. Hours with Lucy have me permanently flushed. “Lesson one. Dancing.”
Lucy rolls her eyes but twines her arms around my neck—and god, this feels good. If I had my way, this particular lesson would never end.
The soft warmth of her body, pressed against mine. The way her generous curves mold to my chest, and the tickle of her hair against my neck. The floral scent of her skin, and the stars reflected in her green eyes. Everything.
“You know, of all the confusing parts of a first date, I think I can manage turning in a circle, Darius.”
Shesaysthat, but when another guest brushes too close behind her, Lucy huddles against my chest. And I fucking love that—love being her safe harbor. Shooting a warning look over her shoulder, I gather her close, never wanting to let go.
“Alright, my beautiful know-it-all. Lesson two: flirting. Show me what you’ve learned.”
And Lucy huffs, her warm breath tickling my throat, but she slides one palm into the center of my chest. The first two buttons of my shirt are undone, and her fingertip ghosts over the third button, then slips under the fabric to tease my bare skin.
It’s the softest touch. Barely there at all.
And blood surges to my cock.
“It’s hard to flirt on command,” Lucy grouses, like she hasn’t already earned an A+. That tiny point of contact from her fingertip on my bare chest—it’s killing me. My body is coiling tight, muscles tensing on my bones, like I’m about to throw her over my shoulder and carry her into the shadows. If we weren’t surrounded by our coworkers, maybe I would. “And not all of us are massive flirts like you, Darius. We can’t all wink and have people fall at our feet.”
“What are you talking about?” It’s so hard to focus with Lucy crushed against me like this. The music is slow, sultry, and the chatter of the crowd floats up to the night sky.
“Hazel,” Lucy mutters.
Wait. What?
“Hazel?”
The pinch between Lucy’s eyebrows deepens to a full-on frown, and she looks tired suddenly. Bitter. And I keep turning her slowly, keep her gathered to my chest, but I’d give anything to kiss away that frown.
First, though, I need to understand whatever the hell is going on.
“Hazel?” I repeat. “Care to explain?”
“Youwinkedat her earlier.” A blush climbs Lucy’s throat, and no, I will not lick it. This is a serious conversation. “When we first arrived. Just like you smile at the interns and they all swoon into a pile.”
I bite back a laugh. “That’s hardly what happens. You’re exaggerating. And I’m not flirting with any of them, Luce, I’m just being friendly.”
