Page 25 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

‘I’m lost...?’

‘My hairdresser rents out dresses.’

‘Okay...’

‘Well, I saw this one and I kept hearing it calling to me as I sat there. Anyway, I ignored it—because I had no reason to hire a ball gown—but then I found out about the wedding. Grace wanted me to go to some designer, but I told her I’d already seen the most perfect dress.’

‘So you went back?’

‘Yes, only they didn’t want to hire it to me because it’s booked out for a wedding next week—the bride’s actually wearing it. I had to beg, and promise it will be returned by Monday, but for tonight it’s all mine.’

‘I want to see the back,’ he said, and raised her hand.

She actually twirled, and it was fun.

So much so she did it again.

He glimpsed the straight spine, the pale, slender back, and he didn’t need a second look to know that she was exquisite...and just breathless enough that, as the music slowed, she returned her head to his chest and leant on him a little more.

He was being incredibly respectful, she thought, even as he held her close. For it felt not quite close enough, and she felt like a mouse who wanted to burrow into him.

She experienced the odd temptation to move in just a fraction, for more of this bliss. And yet, it was a polite dance.

And then she felt the warmth of his palm on her waist, and his cheek next to hers, not quite touching, and she wanted to feel that smoothness in a way that felt new.

‘There are so many moving parts to you, Violet...’

Sahir’s low voice tickled her ear.

‘What do you mean?’

‘The missing necklace...the dreadful week...the tears...the smiles...’

Damn, the desserts were coming out. Their dance was over and they were soon back at the table—but now she was itching for more physical contact.

‘I chose this for you,’ Grace informed Violet, as the most perfect chocolate mousse was served, and Violet gave a smile of delight and sank in her spoon.

‘Goodness!’ Violet closed her eyes as she tasted it. ‘That’s incredible.’

Yet despite the deliciousness Violet didn’t quite finish it, because the dancing had started up again and she was back in Sahir’s arms, resting her head on his chest. She reminded herself that she was terrified to kiss—dreadful at it—and yet she had never, ever wanted to kiss someone so badly.

It was all part of a bigger problem. Her childhood had been confronting at times. The company her family had kept had ensured she put a chair to her door at night, and not every foster home had been perfect.

Violet had quickly worked out that showing fear made her vulnerable, and had adopted a chatty, breezy persona. Her teenage years had been even worse. Visiting her father in prison, she had experienced comments and looks from some of the men there. Instead of quivering, she’d spoken up and out, even when she was scared on the inside.

Now, at twenty-five, she wanted to trust...wanted what came so naturally to others to unfold for her.

Yet any hand closing around hers felt like a vice, and any mouth on her own caused a dreadful panic, even though she fought it, persisted, hoping that in the end it would fade.

Why, when she ached for affection, didn’t she want to kiss anyone?

Or have sex?

She didn’t even like touch...

Only, Violet amended, it would seem that suddenly she did.

Sahir’s touch.

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