Page 12 of The Vow We Made
4
The Hero Returns
The music changes to a nineties vibe causing the floor to electrify and I spot the other vital pieces to my puzzle. Bronte and Faith dance their arses off and ignore the guys trying to join their party for two. Honestly, these girls can be such teases when they want to be, but they are the best and most faithful friends any girl could ask for. Bronte was at school with Steph, so we've known her forever but Faith joined us later.
Sometimes in life, you meet people and something between you clicks immediately. Faith was that person for me. We’re both make-up artists and met while working on a film nearly ten years ago. It was the first major job for both of us and Faith seemed nervous and shy initially so I took her under my wing. I’d like to take credit for helping her grow in confidence as the film progressed, but I never really had anything to worry about. Our little wallflower has fire in her belly, she just hides it well. I knew my friends would love her the moment they met and the rest is history. Now I wonder where I’d be without all three of them, especially during these last three years.
There’s a pull on my arm. “Let’s go,” Steph gestures, flicking her red hair towards the girls and heading to the middle of the crowd where our friends have been dancing for most of the night.
We’re welcomed with smiles, hugs, whoops and hollers, knowing perfectly well we’re being watched by multiple male eyes. I avoid their stares and watch the room like a hawk. I’m not entirely comfortable with this, especially after my most recent experience and I note Steph giving me the side eye too. It doesn’t stop her joining in and sparking the exhibitionist hiding deep inside. Their bodies exaggerate every beat while playing up to their testosterone fuelled audience. Arms entwine, hands explore and fingers lightly brush skin in a bid to keep them guessing.
I use the universal sign language for getting a drink by tipping my hand to my mouth, leaving a disappointed audience, but I don’t care about them. My main concern is the man who saved me and I find myself checking around the club to find him. He still hasn’t made an appearance.
“Are you keeping an eye out for him by any chance?” Steph asks from behind me while the four of us push through the crowd.
I nod, “I’m just concerned something bad has happened,” I shout back.
“Don't worry Vickie, you'll see him again,” she pats my shoulder and as we reach the bar, I can tell the girls have questions. Bronte tilts her head. “What's going on? Where did you two go earlier?”
“You have no idea,” Steph answers, seeing her opportunity to give Bronte and Faith her side of the story. Of course, her version is way more dramatic than the actual events.
“From nowhere, Mr Hottie grabbed his huge arse and threw him out. Honestly, it was like a scene fromFight Club.”
“Jesus, that's a little over the top.” I giggle but the laughter stops abruptly and the atmosphere changes from joking to dead serious in a split second. All three girls stiffen. Their eyes are as big as saucers while my heartbeat speeds up, my body warms with excitement and his clean, fresh scent surrounds me. I've been worried he might do something stupid or worse, be hurt and lying in a gutter, but all my prayers are answered when the man who has preyed on my mind; my saviour, appears beside me.
My three friends stare as if he’s cast a spell over them but I note their eyes follow his mouth while his baritone voice brushes against my ear.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, initially unable to find my own voice, but I want him to know how grateful I am.
My throat is sore and tickles with dryness although I manage “Yes. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t shown up.”
Steph blurts out, “We can’t thank you enough for saving our girl. Can we buy you a drink?” She’s always been good at decoding my body language and can tell I might need a little help.
“I’d prefer a dance.” He holds me in his gaze while in one synchronised movement, my two friends turn their heads my way and wait for an answer. The problem is, all the air has left my lungs, and I’m dizzy with the prospect of his close proximity. The past three years have been turbulent for me but maybe now is my chance to let go. I haven’t felt this nervous or excited in such a long time.
Despite the nerves, I’m determined not to miss out, so breathlessly, I answer, “I’d love to.”
His palm runs the length of my arm until he finds my hand and his firm grip sends a thrill through my body, especially when he tugs my hand giving a signal to follow. I’m led, quite willingly and probably too eagerly, towards the busy dance floor. He swings me forward, his front hits my back then his hands reassuringly rest on my hips before sliding up my side and brush lightly down the length of my bare arms. My skin tingles in their path until his hands reach mine and our fingers lock together. I’m unsure if it’s the heavy bass of the music vibrating through my body or my out of control heartbeat.
Less than an hour ago, I was fighting off some smarmy bastard who took it upon himself to touch what wasn’t his. Now I’m dancing, up close and very personal, with a man I’ve barely met once. Don’t ask me why, but there’s something about him that makes me feel safe.
His hands slide around my waist then rest on my hips again as I relish his hold. I continue to dance with my back to his front and run my palms over the soft skin of his large hands. Our fingers entwine and he brings me close as his hands come to rest with mine against my hips. I long for this man’s touch. His body against mine is an electrical force, sparking the excitement which runs through my centre. Without a second thought, my arse pushes into his crotch while his rhythmic hips move in closer with mine. I shut my eyes to block out the rest of the world and sense how my body fits beautifully against him; I’m entirely at his mercy.
His guiding hands turn me slowly, my eyes flutter open and bring his chiselled features into focus. My lips are level with his Adam’s apple while my palm slides comfortably over his broad chest and up towards the back of his neck. I don’t think about my actions at all and go with my natural instinct to rest my head against his chest while taking in his clean, fresh cologne. My fingers wander and naturally run a line around to the front of his neck and down the open edge of his white shirt. I can’t resist running my fingertips inside. The back of his hand drifts down my cheek and along the line of my jaw, which he lifts to meet his hooded stare. I feel his thumb slide across and dip into my mouth, just brushing my tongue. Our eyes never lose contact. We are locked together in a shared exchange with no words required, even when he guides our bodies in rhythm to the music again. I’ve thought of nothing but him since the day he placed his name and number in my hand, but something held me back from calling. Now here I am, wrapped in the arms of Aiden James. This can’t be a happy coincidence.
I won't lie, I'm disappointed when he slides the hand lying just within his shirt, away and into the grasp of his hand.
“Drink?”
I stand on my tiptoes, lean in to rest my cheek against his and whisper, “Please, let me.”
The corners of his mouth rise and the brush of his finger along my cheekbone causes me to breathe a little faster. “No need.”
His spell has been cast and my heart jumps a thousand beats a second as I'm led in the direction of the bar. Aiden doesn't waste time getting through the crowd and back where my girlfriends once stood. I guess they're enjoying themselves elsewhere.
“Two tequila shots!” he shouts over the bar without asking my preference, then pulls up a stool and gestures for me to sit.
