luck for the night - rl.

6. even angels are carved from flesh and bone.

"Want to get a cab?" Remington breathed, his face close to mine.

I nodded and pulled his face back to mine, not being able to keep my lips off his for a few seconds at a time.

His lips were soft and smokey, tongue exploring my mouth. Strong arms surrounded me, one cupping my face, the other on my lower back, sending electricity up and down my spine. I let my body give into the gravitational pull I had been feeling all night and pressed myself even closer to this man, who had been a stranger mere hours before.

I felt close to him, for some reason. I had kissed a lot of strangers, girls and boys. I had taken a lot of them home, too. But it had never felt like this. No matter how much fire was burning in my chest, how much lust was sparking through my body, how fast my heart was beating. Underneath it all, I was calm. I was sure that if I stopped kissing Remington now, he would make a joke, and we could slip into a conversation as easily as anything else. There simply was no discomfort: not with stopping, not with going on.

His hands darted across my body, while mine reached under his jacket, to his bare chest.

With a soft gasp, Remington stepped back, away from my hands, my lips, my body.

I could not help but frown. Did I do something wrong?

"Your hands are really cold," He answered my look, a soft smile appearing. "We should get inside somewhere, find a way to warm ourselves up." A wink was thrown my way. And here I was, thinking winking was something only done in shitty romance novels.

"My hotel is pretty close," I offered, grabbing my phone from my bag, "Like fifteen minutes?"

"Sounds good," Remington said, getting closer again. The warmth of his body near mine was as distracting as it was comforting.

A shudder went down my body, this time not related to lust. "I really am getting cold," I said, "I did not notice."

As an answer, the boy with the messy black hair wrapped his arms around me, his chin leaning on the top of my head. "Better?"

I ordered us an Uber, my hands shaking from the cold. "Well, Jeffrey and his blue Honda are 10 minutes away."

As I put away my phone, my gaze fell on the white numbers portraying the time. 00:18. So, we weren't supposed to kiss in the lift, after all. I used yesterday's luck with the make-up, but today's luck was right in front of me, fresh as a daisy.

"Wait, hotel? Don't you live here?" Remington suddenly asked, puzzlement in his voice.

"Oh, no. I live in Bristol. I grew up here in London, though."

"You came here all the way from Bristol to help your friend?"

I nodded and reached into Remington's pocket for the pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I popped one into my mouth, lighting it and once again inhaling the hot smoke.

"Ah, smoking to get warm," the man, who still had his arms wrapped around me, his chest to my back, took the cigarette from me. His voice was close, suddenly, as he whispered in my ear. "It doesn't work as well as what we're going to do later, though."

A shudder went down my spine again, but this time one of excitement. Anticipation.

Remington wasn't the 'making out in the back of the taxi' kind of guy, which made me like him even more. We just sat there, in the backseat, him holding both of my hands. "what?" he had said when I had looked at him confusedly, "That's the fastest way of warming them up."

A conversation sparked about my childhood and growing up in London. I told him about how I befriended the ravens in my neighbourhood, and the kids at school all got scared of me. I talked about my grandmother, always there for me and just a few stops with the underground away. I did not tell him why I left for Bristol, though.