Page 8 of Moonstruck at Midnight
He slightly arched my spine, making our bodies come even closer together as we swayed to the rhythm of the music. I met his gaze once again and got lost in it.
Thomas turned his neck to the side, downed what was left of his whiskey neat, and laid down the empty glass on the table behind me. He jerked his chin at my wine, flashing a smile—an invitation for me to do the same.
I drank the remaining wine and laid the glass on the table.
Our hands were now completely free to roam, allowing us to dance without obstruction. This mysterious intensity and melancholy in his eyes captivated me. All I wanted was to capture his beautiful face with my lens—which was unfortunately back home.
A sudden bump on my back released me from the spell I was under. Thomas grabbed my shoulders and swept me away from the drunk guy who had just collided with me.
“Watch it,” Thomas warned the guy with a rough voice. The drunken man half-cursed back at him in French—too intoxicated to speak properly.
“What did he say to me?” Thomas said with a deep frown, seemingly irritated.
Caleb and Aaron were about to intervene, but I quickly shook my head, trying to avoid Thomas knowing about their existence.
Not yet.
“It’s okay. I’m fine,” I reassured him as I rested my hands on his chest. He refused to look away from the drunk man, who finally managed to recover his balance and wandered off in another direction.
“Do you know where the restroom is?” I asked, trying to remove ourselves from the situation. Subtle anxiety crept on me, wondering if some other girl would snatch him away in my absence, but I couldn’t wait any longer.
“Come on. I’ll take you.” He offered his hand and threaded our fingers together. The blazing anger slowly disappeared from his eyes.
Good.
I had previously forgotten about my surroundings, my friends, and even the whole Caleb situation. My plan had worked like a charm.
He led me to the ladies’ room door, and to my surprise, he stood there outside waiting for me the entire time, leaning against the wall with his hands inside his pants pockets. He held out his hand with a smile and slowly pulled me toward him.
“I’m sorry I got all—fired-up just before. I think I’ve had one too many.” I suddenly became aware of the extreme closeness between us.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, smiling back and combing a strand away from his forehead.
“That face,” he whispered, cupping my chin closer to him. “You’re perfect.” He wet his lips and placed his hands around my waist. My fingers grazed his jawline while I looked from his half-parted chin to his lips.
He came even closer to me, our bodies now completely fixed to one another. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my face. And the delicious scent of bergamot in his cologne surrounded me.
“Uh-hum.” Someone cleared their throat to get our attention. I snapped out of the trance I found myself in and saw Aaron standing in the close distance, his hands held together in a tight fist in front of him—the bodyguard stance.
Thomas stared at me, with his hands still firmly placed around my waist. Like me, he was unwilling to let go.
“Boyfriend?” Thomas asked. Caleb appeared next to Aaron before I could answer, holding my favorite green coat, glowering at Thomas. “Boyfriends?” Thomas asked again with a laugh.
Shit.
“BODYGUARDS,” I REPLIEDin barely a whisper. Thomas tilted his head in response.
Aaron approached me and said with his commanding voice, “Miss Murphy, it’s past one a.m. We stretched time as long as we could. We need to comply with the curfew.”
“Time to go, Miss Murphy,” Caleb said in the thickest accent I ever heard coming from him—a small, and probably fake, smile drew on his face. But his full attention remained on Thomas.
I glanced back at Thomas and gently unlocked myself from his embrace. He excused himself for a second, promising to be right back, and rushed through the crowd. I saw him paying the server while Caleb helped me into my coat.
Thomas returned after a few minutes and offered his hand to guide me out of the bar, but I stopped as I remembered I had an open tab at my table.
“It’s been taken care of,” Thomas replied casually. “Come on, you’re running late.”
I protested, but Thomas looked back at me and insisted with a laugh, “I’ve got it, Billie. Don’t worry about it.”
