Where the Stars Fall

7 | Deep green depths

I KEEP WALKING, snaking through the tables placed around the dance floor. The band has been on repeat mode, playing the first chords of the damn song over and over again, allowing me the time to cross the room and finally join the devil in the sexy dress.

Our eyes meet, and I throw her one of those menacing looks, the kind that should let her know that I'll turn this into an eye-for-an-eye-and-a-tooth-for-a-tooth battle if she doesn't back off immediately.

Much to my frustration, she ignores me. She keeps giggling, absolutely amused.

The crowd is clapping and cheering in anticipation, patting me on the back as I pass by, clearly thrilled about the show they're about to watch. So much for male solidarity, even the guys seem to be cackling like stupid hens. Bunch of morons.

A few steps more and I'm there. Olivia hands the microphone to one of the band members and winks at me; I'm pretty certain I've just seen a mischievous twinkle accompanying that crooked smile of hers.

"You sure you want to do this?" I mouth at her.

She nods enthusiastically, before letting out a light-hearted chuckle.

As I come nearer, the air around us gets heavier, such is the tension rising within me. I'm on my last nerve. Right now, I don't know if I want to push her off a cliff or to drown her in the Thames.

Or kiss her until she forgets what day it is.

Without breaking the eye contact, I slowly remove my jacket, which I hang on the back of one of the nearby chairs, loosen my tie and roll up my sleeves. Then I jerk my head to the guy on the drums letting him know I'm ready.

Finally, I join her in the middle of the dance floor and the room dims, a splash of light projecting over us.

Her eyes lock on mine and my core tightens; for a moment I want to lose myself in them again. She keeps smiling, on her lips the same mischievous and defiant grin.

Damn, her naughty smile is just so–

I don't care, I give my head a severe shake. Right now, I'm on the warpath with this woman; no way I'm letting her mess with me.

She stretches out one arm as if to beckon me to the centre. Then, as she's taking a step back, I tug at her hand firmly and spin her around to face me. Olivia tenses her muscles and tries to release herself, but I hold her in place.

"Brian! What are you doing?" she asks, her green eyes riveted on mine, narrowing, her smile withering.

I wink at her, teasing her, and slide one arm around her waist, pulling her body against mine. "Oh, you didn't think I was going to dance that crap all by myself, did you? Come on, sweetie, the audience is just dying to watch the little show you set up for them." I shoot her another quick, sardonic grin.

She looks pale as death, her smile gone as I hold her steady, our faces a breath apart.

I put her left hand on my shoulder myself and crush her to me, this time even closer, my lips brushing her hair, our bodies moulding to each other. Then I lean in, close enough to make sure my breath caresses her skin, "Wanted us to dance, smartarse? Now, dance! Any salsa moves will do!"

There's a mix of surprise and nervousness weighing her features, I can read her so well, but she disguises it with a wide cynical grin. "I'll get you back for this later, sweetie, don't you worry."

And here we go.

I soften my grip, pull and start to lead her, defining the quick pace and the shimmying movements, claiming the whole dance floor as ours. She doesn't let me down and plays my game, spinning, dipping and swivelling her hips in sensual moves. And she sure knows how to do it!