Page 10 of Twisted Little Thing

I look at him with disbelief – and start laughing. Loudly, very unladylike. Because I cannot believe what I just heard.

"You have to explain to me," I choke out, trying hard to suppress my laughing. "You have to explain what it is about my erratic movements that cause you to come up with all these charming words and efforts to grab my attention. What is wrong with you?!"

He raises one of his eyebrows again, looking at me with suspicion. "Why do you think there has to be something wrong with me?"

"Because that is such an... odd thing to say," I say, my voice almost a whisper. "My friends actually left me alone at that club because I embarrassed them so much. Well, and because they hated the music."

"Not a very nice move by your friends, but they have every right to do that," he says. "However, I did not – by any means – say that I found your dancing beautiful."

I look at him, feeling slightly offended. And apparently it shows in my face, because he chuckles at the sight of my expression.

"You have a weird way of charming a woman," I say. "Showering her with sweet words to lure her in – and then retracting them immediately."

He smiles at me. A very handsome smile, I still have to admit. This man is way too gorgeous for me, out of my league on so many levels. I still can't help but wonder what kind of sick game he might be playing with me.

Or whether he is just really, really bored and looking for a one-night stand at an unusual place. Unusual for him, at least.

"I did not retract anything I said," he defends, still looking at me. "I am still maintaining what I said earlier, about you being a beautiful person. Or at least appearing to be. The way you move on the dance floor is so carefree, so unlike all of those others who are only pretending to be elegant, who care more about looking graceful than being themselves. No matter what kind of beats are shaking the room, they remain untouched by it – but you don't. If there is something that touches your heart, you have no trouble showing it, and you don't care what it might look like to others. I like that."

The way he looks at me while he is saying these things confuses me.

"I’d like to be the one pushing the buttons that make you lose control like that," he adds, locking me in place with his intense stare.

I feel myself blushing and turning into a babbling mess under the intensity of his eyes.

"Whatever," I say, trying to appear nonchalant and cool as I reach for my drink to take another big swig. But my hands are shaking – and he notices.

"See," he comments, his voice calm and confident as he nods toward my trembling hands. "I know you are trying your best to be that cool and unapproachable girl, the one who is way above me, trying to put me in my place. Me, the narrow-minded businessman, who you think you have all figured out. Yet, you can't hide that your heart has been touched. Why are your hands shaking when I pay you a compliment?"

I hide unsuccessfully behind my drink and end up casting him a disconcerted look through narrowed eyes. Who the hell does he think he is? And why am I shaking and blushing like a little schoolgirl? I hate that. And I hate that he is right about everything he said.

"So?" he continues. "Why do you have such trouble admitting that my words have an impact on you? Why do you care so much about what I might think if you admit it – or what others might think?"

I put my drink down and take a deep breath. "Why do you think I am concerned with these things? Didn't you just say that I look like a 'carefree' person who does not care about appearance and what others might think of her?"

"Yes," he says. "And I think that is true for the most part. But still, you are trapped under certain prejudices and notions that make it hard for you to give in to attraction when it hits you."

I look at him with indignation. "Come again, what did you just say?"

He laughs and leans forward, moving closer to me. I flinch when he lifts his right hand to touch my face. But I don't move away. He gently caresses my cheek with his thumb while his dark eyes search for mine, catching me with their intense gaze.

"You saw me," he whispers, his voice so low that only I can hear it. "You saw me and you ran away, because what you felt was scary to you. You may not be able to explain it, and neither can I. But there is something, attraction, interest. Something that is drawing us close to each other."

My jaw literally dropped at his charming words. I am inclined to believe them, even though I feel more than silly for being so naive.

"You're just saying that," I whisper. "To get into my pants."

A faint smirk flees across his handsome face. "I am not denying that I would love that. I would love to get a chance to pursue this and see if I am reading you correctly, if I am interpreting what I feel when I look at you the right way – or if I am just imagining things and so desperate to find someone who mesmerizes me that I am projecting things onto you that aren't there."

He pauses for a moment and looks at me, waiting and searching for a reaction. But all I do is to keep staring at him. With disbelief – and desire. I know I want him. His hand caressing my face feels warm and comfortable, weirdly familiar. His touch soothes me and sends shivers of yearning racing through my body.

"But," he adds. "I might lose interest if you keep insulting me."

I cannot suppress a little laugh at that. A giggle, shy and insecure like the young girl I never wanted to be, echoes between us and lifts the veil of tension.

And just as I am about to object, he leans forward and kisses me. His lips meet mine with the force of surprise. My instincts tell me to shy away from a sudden kiss like this, but I don't want to.

Instead, I hear myself let out a little moan as I lean into him. His tongue seeks to explore mine with an unknown eagerness. It feels so right, so insanely hot. He is a brilliant kisser, so passionate and sensual, yet without forcing it too much. My heart has never skipped beats the way it does during this first, unusually intimate kiss we share.

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