Just a Number(77)

“Eyes up, Mr. Cavanaugh," she chastises playfully, the fingers of her left hand teasing the fine hairs at the nape of my neck.

My own fingers curl against the fabric of her dress as my desire for her swells by the second. "My apologies, Miss Michaels," I whisper under my breath, dropping my face next to her ear. "I just can’t help myself when you look the way you do." My lips graze the shell of her ear, and her fingers tighten in my hair while her entire body shudders in my arms.

"You sure do know how to sweet-talk the girls, don't you?"

I shake my head, spinning us once more on the dance floor. "Just you, Amelia," I respond, straightening up and staring deep into her electric blue-gray eyes.

Her lips twist up into a coy smile as her cheeks fill with color. "You're going to get so lucky tonight."

We share a few consecutive dances, and when the music shifts to something a little more upbeat, Amelia excuses herself to use the washroom. I take this opportunity to grab us a couple more drinks, and as I wait at the bar, Elliot shows up, clapping his hand down on my shoulder. He's alone, having left his wife somewhere—most likely with several of the other executives' wives.

"So," he begins, "your date seems great."

I nod in response. "She is. I really like her."

"She's younger," he states confidently. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. In fact, I think it's great. Every guy should hook up with a hot young co-ed at least once." He must interpret my look of annoyance for what it is, because his eyes widen behind his mask. "Shit. No. I didn't mean to imply that she was a passing phase…though, if she is, that's fine too." He's rambling now, and deep down, I know he didn't mean any harm with his statement, so I cut him some slack.

"Relax, Elliot. It's fine."

He breathes a sigh of relief and then arches an inquisitive eyebrow at me. "So, uh, how old is she?"

"Old enough," I reply.

"Okay," he says, drawing the word out slightly. "But how long has she been 'old enough'?" He uses his fingers to make air quotes, and I roll my eyes.

"Does it matter?"

Laughing, he shrugs. "Nah. Not really. But, like every other guy that's laid eyes on her tonight, I'm trying to live vicariously through you."

Amelia returns at just the right moment, putting an end to this awkward conversation, and I pull her close. She takes her drink from me with a smile and looks between Elliot and me. “What are you boys talking about?”

Elliot grins guiltily, and Amelia reads his expression like a book. “Ah,” she breathes, “still curious, huh?” Elliot shrugs, gaining another smile from her. “Well, I’m sure you won’t be kept wondering for too much longer.” With that, she loops her arm through mine and nods back toward the dance floor.

We leave our glasses on a nearby table—it’s possible we won’t see them again, but that’s all right; it’s an open bar—and I pull her back into my arms. The band plays another slow song, and we move smoothly, our bodies pressed close once more.

“I know we’ve only been here a couple hours,” Amelia says wistfully, “but I’m having a really good time.”

I spin her and then pull her back into my arms while she laughs. “I’m glad, because I’m also having a great time.” I release her hand for a minute while we dance to stroke her face, grazing the thin metal of her mask with the back of my finger in the process, and she licks her bottom lip. This act draws me in like a moth to a flame, but because we’d agreed to refrain from any major shows of affection that could start churning the rumor mill, I hold steady, and we make do with smoldering glances, soft caresses, and whispered signs of devotion that cause my already-heightened desire for her to mount further.

I feel like I’m on cloud nine with Amelia in my arms, and the exuberant smile on her face tells me she’s right there alongside me. Of course, harsh whispers cut through the happy haze that shrouds us, drawing our attention across the room…to where Gretchen is currently making her way through the crowd of people with me in her sights.

Or, more accurately: Amelia.

Gretchen must’ve come prepared to go unnoticed for a bit, because she’s wearing a gold gown she likely bought months ago, right before I cut off her access to my credit cards. Her face is half-hidden behind a solid black mask, and her hair is piled on top of her head intricately. She’d be lost amongst a sea of others just like her if it weren’t for the fire in her eyes as she storms toward us.

Naturally, Amelia’s not oblivious to the impending drama, and she offers me a nervous smile, laying her right hand on my chest. “I’m going to make myself scarce. I’ll come find you in a bit.” As she walks away, she lets her hand drag across my chest, almost as though she’s staying connected to me for as long as possible before she’s forced to let go. I want to follow her, to tell her not to run away, but I decide to just deal with Gretchen before she can make an even bigger scene.