Page 45 of Butterfly

Dart is sleeping on the back seat, exhausted by the excitement of the evening, his soft snoring the only noise.

“Is everything all right?” I ask, debating with myself if I should touch his hand on the steering wheel.

He smiles, and the transformation of his face, from serious to happy, is so quick that I wonder if it’s genuine. That’s the problem with a good actor. It’s hard to say when he’s being one hundred per cent genuine and when it’s an act.

“Just thinking about my trip.” He rakes a hand through his hair, messing up his dark curls. “Sorry if I seem distant.”

“Hope you had fun tonight.”

“Your friends are great.” A dimple appears on his cheek when a corner of his mouth quirks up.

But I’m not fooled. Something happened between my friends and him, and he doesn’t want to talk about it. I know all about not wanting to talk.

When he pulls over at the kerb in front of my building, I toy with my phone to have something to do. Should I ask him to come up? My lady parts are rusty. I haven’t had sex in a long time. Dart is asleep, and if Alex comes up with me, we’ll need to wake him up. Also, Alex is leaving soon. Yes, that’s one huge heap of excuses. I’m rather good at finding excuses, but where’s the hurry? I want to get to know him better before I give him my body. And there are rules. My back is off-limits. No touching and not seeing it. He might not understand. Am I overthinking the situation? Or underthinking? Damn, I have no idea.

He clears his throat, turning the engine off. “Are you sure that—”

“Sure of what?” The words race out of my mouth.

“That you want to take care of Dart?”

My heart sinks a little. “Oh yes, of course. Looking forward to it.”

“So am I.” In the confined space of the car, his deep rumble reverberates in my chest.

“Are you?”

He nods. “Especially if you’re sure. I wouldn’t do that unless you were completely sure.”

“Me neither.”

The air between us feels heavy. A bolt of lightning glows and rips apart the sky. Thunder cracks the night, and rain pelts the roof of the car, but the storm brewing inside the car rocks me with more strength. Rain washes over the windows and the windscreen. It’s like being under a waterfall.

He moves towards me, but pauses, drawing in a breath. I copy him, moving towards him. He cups my face, his thumb caressing my cheek, and shifts closer across the space separating our seats. Even though I’m prepared for the touch of his lips, a jolt of sensation bursts through my skin. The kiss tastes differently from the one we exchanged at the beginning of the evening. A heaviness turns it solemn, as if we grew into more mature people in the span of a few hours. The intensity cuts deep into my heart, and my doubts dissolve. His tongue takes charge of the kiss, dominating my mouth with firm strokes, going deep until my body is pulsing with need. I let him take me on this journey of passion. He’s kissing me hard, gently pushing me against the seat, one hand on my thigh. Through the fabric of my trousers, his warmth seeps into my skin, and I can’t stop my hips from rolling towards him.

The moan I release is thick with lust, and I reconsider all the reasons why I didn’t want him to follow me upstairs. The reminder arrives soon enough when he’s about to slip a hand under my blouse to reach my back, but comes to an abrupt stop, likely remembering our conversation. Or maybe he simply feels my muscles tense. Whatever the reason, the moment is broken. The magic is fading with the distant roar of thunder. The sound of the rain returns to its high volume in my ears. He stops kissing me, resting his forehead against mine.

“Damn,” he whispers, and I’m not sure what he’s referring to. Was the kiss good? Or is he frustrated because he can’t touch my back?

I trail my fingers along his jaw. “Are you okay?”

“It’s like I can’t stop kissing you.”

“Can’t say I’m not happy to hear that.” My lips are tingling, and my body is humming with energy, all because he kissed me.

He regards me from underneath those long and thick eyelashes, his grey eyes the same colour as the night sky ripped by lightning. “When I’m back, I’m going to take you out to dinner.”

A hollow sensation digs into my chest. His words sound like a goodbye for now. So, he doesn’t want to go up with me after all. That’s fine. That’s what I want too. But a little worm of disappointment still digs its way through me. “I’m counting on it.”

Slowly, he returns to his seat. “I’ll drop Dart before leaving.”

“Brilliant.”

“Thank you for your help. It means a lot.”

“Any time.” Before the conversation turns to the weather and the cricket championship, I take my bag from the floor and open the door. Cold wind and rain splatter on my coat.

“Wait.” He jumps out of the car, and a moment later, he’s standing next to my door, an umbrella in his hand.

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