I met her gaze evenly, knowing damn well there was no point in denying it. Denial would only lead to an argument about the fact that guys never are willing to admit that they look, and it had been a long night, so I really wasn’t up to that. Brett shook his head and moved from his place beside Karen, weaving behind me, muttering just loudly enough for only me to hear: “Busted.”
The rest of the cast was listening. Oh, they made the pretence of trying to hide it, but I knew they had been watching us all night, especially Megan from her place latched to Devon’s arm. The flirtation, the jokes... At one point Karen had been sitting on the couch, and I had promptly grasped her hand, spun her out of her seat, replaced her ass with mine, and pulled her into my lap.
The girl Karen had been sitting next to, Leah, could only gape in surprise and nod with undenying approval at the high level of smoothness...
But now they all listened (Megan had stopped her conversation in mid-sentance to listen) waiting to see how I handled the situation.
I smilled and chuckled a little bit. It wasn’t an admission nor a declination, only a clue... And Karen smiled back. I reached out and shook her hand, still grinning wide.
“Congratulations, you’ve got breasts,” I said loudly, and Karen (and several cast-members close by) laughed out loud. Karen leaned in and gave me a big hug, and I hugged back, my biggest bear-hug. Then I turned to Brett and grinned.
“I get busted and still get a hug!” I announced with a bravado I didn’t really feel.
“What?!” I shouted in defiance to the room, and grinned wide, turning to Karen, who slipped her arm around my waist as I put my arm over her shoulders.
If only she knew how much I truly did yearn for her... How I despised the fact that she had a boyfriend and the fact that I was too damn honorable to do anything about it anyway...
I asked her to dance... It was a country song that I didn’t know (which wasn’t a surprise since I’m not a big fan of country) but it was slow and easily swayed to.
“May I have this dance?” I asked, formally extending my arm in invitation. We were all in our finery, I in a suit (the first suit I’d willingly put on ever) and she in a crushed black velvet dress that hugged her curvaceous form in a revealing yet tantizingly mysterious way. And as she took my hand, and I slowly spun her onto the makeshift dance floor and took her into my arms (my arms, my terribly strong, terribly dangerous, terribly frightening, terribly capable arms) we were suddenly the only two in the room.
She pressed against me, just tall enough to meet my gaze without straining her neck, her breasts pressed just slightly against my chest, her heartbeat swift and rapid enough for me to feel through her thin dress.
And I wanted her. She stirred my heart and mind and loins in a delicious mixture of pleasure, pain, and desire that hurt when you realized that nothing can be done to sate your thirst.
And we danced... Slow, observing gentle conversation about nothing at all...
I wonder if she knew how hard it was not to kiss her. I wonder if she knew how hard it is not to let myself love her. I wonder if she knows that she is the one person who can bring calm to the storm that rages within the confines of my skull. I hope she knows, for I can never tell her...