Before Dawn: a Prequel Novella to Where the Stars Fall

11 Beyond repair ~ Olivia

With my eyes riveted on the man walking towards me, I watch him watching me as he strides to the centre of the room, snaking through the tables with a dark, menacing expression, the intensity of his gaze, searing.

Again, whose bright idea was it to pull this off?

Oh, that's right. Mine.

In my champagne-induced haze, I curse myself while trying to shut my mind to the bursting crowd, clapping and cheering in anticipation. They're tapping Brian on the back as he passes by, but he keeps his cool. On the other hand, I begin to shift restlessly on my feet, his steely control and implacable stare threatening to send me off balance.

I inhale sharply. Firm about not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated, I smile and wink at him.

"You sure you want to do this?" he mouths before returning a tight-lipped fake smile.

The air between us is filled with tension and I can almost hear what he's thinking―that I belong in a loony bin, surely.

Another nervous chuckle escapes my lips, the awareness one too many toasts may have impaired my judgement sending a stab of panic through my chest.

Shit! He'll never speak to me ever again!

Even though he's obviously not the slightest bit thrilled with any of this, he follows suit and removes his jacket, which he hangs on the back of one of the nearby chairs, his gaze never leaving mine. After loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves, Brian jerks his head to the guy on the drums.

He's ready. My lowered inhibitions, gone.

The room dims, a splash of light projecting over us when he places himself by my side, with an insanely sexy, devious smirk lighting up his features.

Catching me by surprise, he takes a firm hold of my hand and spins me around to face him. My muscles tense and I try to escape his grasp, but he won't allow it. As I stand before him, his hand settles on the small of my back before he pulls me closer, the sensation of his touch rippling through me.

Startled, I blink. "Brian! What are you doing?"

With his arm slid around my waist, he presses me hard against his body, tilting his head to whisper in my ear, "Oh, you didn't think I was going to dance this crap all by myself, did you? Come on, sweetie, the audience is dying to watch the little show you set up for them." When he catches my eye, he winks, his face breaking into a sardonic grin.

It all feels like running smack into a glass door you didn't see. But I guess it serves me right. That was a stupid, really stupid idea and now here I am: in the middle of a crowded room, held steady under his fierce gaze, our faces mere inches apart, his hot breath brushing my face. My heart doing backflips, about to jump out of my chest.

For a moment I'm stunned, unable to react.

He places my hand on his shoulder himself and crushes me to him again, this time even closer, his lips touching my hair, our bodies fitting together.

"Wanted us to dance, smart-ass? Now, dance! Any salsa moves will do!"

Threaded with a hint of amusement, those whispered words vibrate through me and my face heats. Despite the chaotic mess of feelings stirring within me, feelings I've yet to comprehend, I pull myself together and give him a cynical broad smile.

"I'll get back to you later, sweetie, don't you worry."

And here we go.

Softening his grip, he pulls, leading me with firm determination, defining the pace and the way we turn and move our bodies, claiming the whole dancefloor as ours.