Trace of Innocence | Sweet and Sour (Book 4)

Chapter 10

(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 10 - In His Arms I Get Weak)

I arrive at Libertine and ignore the paps outside that unceremoniously shove their cameras in my face. I am ushered inside and immediately taken to the VIP section where Louis and Niall are sitting in a booth with a few others. I recognise a couple of Jess's friends (Callie gives me a stony look), but to my dismay neither Jess nor Gary are anywhere to be seen.

"Where is she?" I shout to Louis over the music, and he shrugs. "What did you say to her?!" I demand, and he tilts his head towards me.

"We just chatted," he shouts back. "She was upset. She's still in love with you, but she thinks you don't love her."

"Good," I nod, and he gives me a look of utter disbelief. "I want her to move on," I try to explain, but he just shakes his head, his lips pressed together, and looks away.

I grab an empty glass and pour myself some champagne, and then down half the glass. The bubbles sting my nose and I am forced to conceal a burp behind my hand. I'm actually glad Jess isn't here to see that. Talk about gross.

"Harry, we're getting some shots!" Niall calls down the table. "Are you in?"

I nod, without even asking what we're drinking. I can't see Jess, and I need some dutch courage before I go looking for her. Less than ten seconds later a bartender appears with a tray of shots, and they are passed along the table until everyone has one. I accidentally catch Callie's eye and feel a twitch of discomfort at the look of hostility she is brazenly sending my way. I neck my shot quickly, relishing the burn of the alcohol down the back of my throat that warms my insides immediately. I wipe my lips with the back of my hand and set my glass back on the tray, before scanning the room again.

The bass is pounding so loud it feels as though the entire room is vibrating. The club is packed; from the entrance all the way over to the bar; from the toilets to the VIP section. I study every face in the crowd; none of them are as beautiful as Jess. Half-dressed women are gyrating against sweaty men on the dancefloor, hands roaming, lips connected. I have stared impatiently at almost every blonde girl before I catch sight of the one that makes my stomach flutter.

There she is, standing at the bar talking to Gary. I watch them intently until I am sure nothing untoward is going on, and then turn my attention back to our booth so as not to seem rude. Callie is still glaring at me, so I offer her a tentative smile which she doesn't return. I open my mouth to speak to her, although I haven't a clue what I am going to say, but she interrupts me before I can speak.

"Don't bother, I'm not interested in anything you have to say," she snipes.

Well. That's me told.

"OK, that's fair enough," I respond calmly, because what else can I say?

"Fair enough," she snorts. "The fuckıng cheek of you, showing up here when you knew damn well Jess would be here. It's a fucķing disgrace."

Before I can even attempt to defend myself, my blood runs cold as I recognise the song that has just started. It's a mashup of Love Me Like You Do and Thinking Out Loud. My heart starts to thud and my stomach twists painfully. This is too much. I turn round again to look towards the bar, ignoring Callie's tirade of abuse, and catch sight of Jess.

Her face is crumpled in misery and she lifts her hands to hide her face just as Gary appears at her side and puts his arms around her. She hides her face in his shirt as he rubs her back gently, and I don't need to have a clear to view of her face to know she is crying. I know exactly how she feels right now, because I feel it too.

These two songs hold such meaning for both of us. We've danced to Thinking Out Loud, and we've made love to Love Me Like You Do. They are our songs, not only because of what we did together while they played, but because the lyrics are so relevant to us.

You're the light, you're the night, you're the colour of my blood. You're the cure, you're the pain, you're the only thing I wanna touch. Never knew that it could mean so much.

Take me into your lovin' arms. Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars. Place your head on my beating heart. I'm thinking out loud. Maybe we found love right where we are.

Gary lets go of her and turns back to the bar, but she is still crying - what the hell is he doing?

Mate, you can't just leave her there like that, she's in bits!

She's turned away from my view but I can see her shoulders heaving as she cries, her hands covering her face. My heart is breaking all over again at the pain I have caused her, and I can't stop myself sliding out of the booth, away from Callie's indignant shouts, out of the VIP section and through the crowd to the bar. I'm trying to keep my head down and pass through the throng unnoticed, but I'm hurrying, praying I get to her before Gary does so I can hold her in my arms. I know it's selfish and probably a little bit manipulative, but considering the state she is in I suspect she won't push me away, and I just want to hold her for a minute; just one last time. It doesn't have to be for long.

Finally I reach the bar and thankfully Gary's back is still turned as he pays the bartender. I walk up behind Jess and gently put my arms around her. She doesn't even flinch, and at first I'm not even sure she knows it's me - what if she thinks I'm Gary?

She turns her body and slips her arms around me, never looking up at me but burying her face in my chest. I feel a wave of emotion as I tighten my hold around her and rest my chin on the top of her head. Her chest heaves with a sob and my eyes burn with tears; I literally have to clench my teeth to force them away. I run my hand through her soft hair and catch the scent of her tropical shampoo. I breathe it in so deeply, as though I need it to survive, and as I let out a sigh I pretend just for a second that we're a normal couple on a night out, having a private moment whilst immersed in the crowd.

I feel her body slowly relax in my embrace and my grip on her loosens. I no longer feel the need to hold her against me with such desperation because it is she who is clinging to me now, as though afraid I will let her go. I know I should let her go. I never should have come this close to her in the first place, but what was I supposed to do - leave her crying alone in the middle of a nightclub?

The song taunts us. The memories flash through my mind one by one: holding her like this at the private Ed Sheeran gig in LA; sitting next to her on the sofa at the house party where we met; Jess singing along to Love Me Like You Do in my car; touching her, kissing her, caressing her, loving her...

She knows it's me. I can tell by the way she has fit herself into my arms so perfectly. She knows it's me, and she isn't pushing me away. This is everything I want, but everything I mustn't have.

Her hands softly stroke my back through my shirt, sending shivers down my spine, and typically straight to my dįck. Of course.

I want to kiss her. I want to do more than kiss her. I want to take her somewhere private and undress her slowly, and make love to her gently, to rid myself of this guilt.

The song comes to a close and merges into something else, and she lifts her head to look at me. Her beautiful eyes are full of tears, and I feel a jolt of nerves as my gaze meets hers before she drops her eyes to my lips.

She wants me to kiss her.

Fuçk, I want to kiss her.

And then I remember the consequences I have already suffered - am still suffering - for thinking with my dicķ, and no matter how difficult this is I have to stop it before it goes any further and we both get hurt all over again.