Page 70 of Love, Academically
“Oh, shut up, James,” Elin said, with a snort.
Llewellyn stood and held his hand out to his wife, looking around the room with his eyebrows drawn together in a frown so much like Rhys’s. His big frame bristled with importance. Rhys was a perfect mix between his fine-boned mother and the air of authority exuded by Llewellyn Dallimore. They had disappeared to ‘work the room’, and the tables were being cleared and the lighting dimmed. A string quintet set themselves up in the corner as Rhys leaned close to her.
“I’d like to dance with you,” he said, his warm breath ghosting across her cheek.
That was a no. Firstly, she could not trust herself in the heels that had been strapped to her feet, and secondly, she couldn’t trust herself pressed up close to Rhys Aubrey.
This was an arrangement. This was fake. Yes, they had to make it convincing, she supposed, but that didn’t mean that she had to put herself in a position to… what? Have him bend her over the nearest chair and give her a jolly good seeing-to?
Well, that was a picture she couldn’t seem to shake out of her mind and it was making her extremely warm. It had been quite a while since she’d had an orgasm that wasn’t by her fingers or her trusty bedside drawer friends.
“No, I don’t think dancing would be a good idea,” she said slowly, “what with my ankle and all.”
“Is it hurting?” he asked with a frown.
“No, it’s just,” Lila looked to the ceiling for inspiration, “I’ll show you up.”
“Okay,” he said with a smile. “Let’s get a drink.”
“Do you reckon they’ll have non-alcoholic sparkling? I don’t want any more champagne,” she said.
Lila did want more champagne (who said no to expensive champagne), but more champagne would lead to reckless decisions.
“Probably, let’s find out,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist and guiding her to the bar.
“You’re not bad at this, you know,” she said.
“At what?” He glanced at her as he manoeuvred them through the crowd to the bar.
“At being a boyfriend,” she said, wincing. This was one of the times where she wished she thought before spouting nonsense.
“You’re enjoying me being your boyfriend,” he said with a coy look at her. Statement, not question.
“That’s not what I said. But it is… a nice evening.”
Lila leaned against the bar and did not, whatsoever, look at Rhys. But she did spot his grin out of the corner of her eye.
“Youare,” he accused. “You’re enjoying me being your boyfriend.”
“Oh for God’s sake, Rhys,” she said, accepting a non-alcoholic sparkling wine from the bar staff.
But he was still waiting for a reply, his smile tucked just under the surface.
“Okay, fine,” she said, with an eye roll. “I’m having a good time.”
Rhys took a small step closer and grazed his fingers over her bare shoulder. She willed herself not to react, or throw herself at him. Either one.
“Surprisingly, I am also having a good time,” he said, voice low.
“Oh, well thanks. That’s a compliment I’ll pop in my memory book,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he said quickly. “I meant I was surprised because I didn’t think I would have a good time here, with my family. Not about enjoying my time with you.”
“I know what you meant, Rhys,” she said. “I was teasing.”
The intensity in his gaze struck her, and he shook his head slightly, his shoulders sagging.
“I thought I was getting better at reading you. I’m not, though, am I?”
