Hanleigh's London

Chapter 9: The Women I Usually Sleep With Don't Blush

She's shy again. Nervous. As if she's not accustomed to introducing herself. That surprises me. Everything I've seen tonight; everything I know about her suggests that she should be incredibly confident. This should be easy for her, but then again it should be easy for me too. And it's not. It's nowhere near easy, so I can't blame her for feeling shy.

She rubs her neck, and I can't help but glance down. Is she trying to be seductive?

I get the impression she has no idea what she is doing to me. She's smiling at me again, and I instinctively grin back.

"I'm Landon. Are you going to do those shots?" I challenge her.

I shouldn't encourage her to drink anymore; she's had enough, more than enough but I want to distract her so I can think up a plan to get her into my bed and the drinks on the bar are the only thing that comes to my mind, so I go with it.

"Well I did get one for Lou, but it doesn't look like she wants it."

She looks towards the dance floor, but I don't follow her gaze, choosing to watch her instead. She's everything she promised to be from across the bar. I knew she'd be beautiful. Her eyes are a blue, calm ocean that is threatening to pull me under and consume me.

"Would you like one?" she asks me.

I laugh because I haven't done shots in years.

"Alright."

I try to recall the last time I did shots and I'm pretty sure it was at university with Jarrod and Jack; back when we were all living off our parents' money; completely irresponsible and unbelievably reckless.

She passes me one of the shot glasses and a slice of lemon. We both try to pick up the salt at the same time, and the fire that I felt earlier is back again.

She must feel it too. I catch my breath. She's blushing again. I like that blush.

The women I usually sleep with, hardly ever blush. I didn't realise I was missing anything until I met her though.

I down my tequila and scrunch up my face as I suck on the lemon, but I never take my eyes off her. I want to take her home, but I'm not sure I can just take her the way I normally would. She's different from the others, and I'm completely out of my element. I'm going to have to choose a different approach.

"Do you want to dance?" I ask her because right now I really just want to touch her.

Every part of me is focussed on her. She's like the f*cking sun, and the fiery current that's coming off her in waves is burning me to the bloody core.

"Okay."

She bites her lip again as she gets down from her stool. I grab her hand and lead her through the crowd. The feel of her hand in mine is overwhelming. If it feels this good to hold her hand, how much better will it feel to kiss her?

To touch her?

I'm tempted to take her to a quiet corner where I can misbehave, but I know she'll be more comfortable near her friend, so I quickly scan the crowd for the blonde girl from earlier. When we reach her, I pull Aurora into my arms until I can feel her against my chest. Her friend has lost the boy now and is dancing with a darker haired guy and another blonde-haired girl.

I recognise the guy.

He'd been sat with Aurora when I first saw her. He must be her friend too. He keeps looking over at us; he's watching us with a protective glint in his eyes. He cares about her.

I'm jealous, I think. I think that's what it is. jealousy.

He knows her. I arrogantly remind myself that I'm the one she's dancing with. I'm the one holding her in my arms.

Why the hell would I be jealous of him? I'll f*ck her tonight, something he's probably never done.

The idea of him f*cking her makes me feel sick. The truth though is that he gets to live in her life. He knows her in a way I never will because I'll f*ck her and leave her like I always do.

Having her this close is intoxicating. I lean down and breathe in, taking in her scent.

I gently kiss her neck before saying, "you smell amazing."

I can't see her face but I know she's blushing and it turns me on. She catches me off guard when she leans up and kisses me gently on the lips. I think this girl might make a habit of surprising me.

Kissing her back, I almost immediately deepen the kiss with a swipe of my tongue across her lips. The kiss is intense. It's deep, and when she pulls away to breathe, I'm left bereft.

I pull her closer as if to lessen my loss. I've never wanted anyone as much as I want her in this moment. I kiss along her collarbone until she pulls me back up by my hair so that she can kiss me again.

We are still moving to the music, but I'm not sure I'd call it dancing. It's more primitive. Raw. Needy. One of my hands is on her arse, and the other is under her top, caressing her over her bra.

It's a good job the dark-haired guy is distracted. He's kissing a blonde girl and not paying us any attention at all.

I pull away because I have to. If I don't, we'll be having s*x on the dance floor in front of her friends and half the city because I know that with her, I could easily lose control. I think I want to.

We look at each other, and I decide I have to do something. I have to choose; either slow this down or go with it. I'm about to ask her to come home with me when she asks me if I want another drink.

I don't. I want her. Now. But I decide to do what she wants.

Slow it down it is. I nod towards the bar.