Elen

I can barely breathe with Kane sitting beside me.

His body warmth seeps into me, and I feel myself heating up from the inside out. He looks amazing today. He’s wearing a dark-gray suit, although he always wears a suit to work so that’s not unusual, but today instead of a white shirt and a business tie, he’s wearing a silvery-gray shirt with black swirly lines and an open neck, and he looks smart and casual and sexy all at the same time. His aftershave has deep, musky tones that stir my senses.

There’s something about him. I don’t know what it is. He’s so laid back he’s almost horizontal, and yet Seb was commenting only yesterday that Kane has been at his desk until seven p.m. every night this week, and he’s usually one of the first in too.

I haven’t yet spoken to him about it, but I love his writing. He’s concise, he’s funny, and his occasional clever use of metaphors suggests to me that he writes more than just copy, and I was right when I thought he’d written that fantasy story on his desk.

Seb, Harry, Caleb, and I are all left-brain people: logical, analytical, and objective. The three guys are engineers, and I’m science-based, so we all talk in facts and figures. If we were shapes, we’d be squares and triangles, and maybe I’d have the occasional circle thrown in.

Kane is like the lines on his shirt--he’s all swirls and abstract patterns. He comes out with ideas we could never think of. We would be practical blacks and grays; he’s rainbow-colored, luminous, pastel, vibrant. I’m not creative at all--I can’t draw, I can’t write, and I have no interest in making clothes or cooking or anything like that. So Kane’s brain fascinates me. He fascinates me. He’s a Bohemian in a suit, a combination so exciting and unusual that I can barely take my eyes off him.

I do, though. In spite of his declaration, I’ve waited, and I’m not waiting much longer, I don’t know that I want to fall into his arms at the first opportunity. I need to think carefully about where I go from here. Am I ready for another relationship? After the initial weirdness of being alone wore off, I’ve enjoyed being on my own. I’ve had my own space, been able to do my own thing, and not answer to anyone. It’s been refreshing, and I’ve rediscovered myself.

After saying that, Kane is hot, and I just know he’ll be great in bed. Jesus, I so need to get laid. Would he be up for something short-term? I glance up at him to find his gaze fixed on me. His eyes are like laser beams. Yeah, I think he might be up for some sex.

The ceremony ends, and we watch the bride and groom walk down the aisle and out into the nearby garden for their photos. I swallow down the lump that has formed in my throat at the sight of one of my best friends so incredibly happy. I love these guys so much, and there was a point when I despaired they’d ever settle down. Now all three of them have a partner, and it’s only me still playing the dating game.

I follow Kane outside into the bright autumn air, and we stand to one side and watch the photographer organizing the bridesmaids and Roxie’s little boy who looks just charming in a tiny suit. A leaf flutters down from the chestnut trees above us onto my hair. Kane reaches out and retrieves it with a smile. It’s a simple gesture, but it makes me shiver. I want his hands on me. I want his mouth on mine. I want to feel his hot skin. Jesus, I feel as if I’m self-combusting. How am I going to make it through the day?

*

With trouble, is the answer. Kane sticks to my side like plastic wrap you can’t shake off, and I spend most of the day in a daze. It’s a nice day, too. After the photographs, we all go back to the hall they’ve hired for dinner and the evening event. We share a table with the guys and others from work, and we pass the hours drinking, reminiscing, and laughing. They’re my favorite people in all the world, and I’ve been looking forward to the event, but when it comes to it, all I can think about is the man by my side.

Not that he’s making a nuisance of himself or anything. After the initial hug in the church, he hasn’t touched me again. Does he know how much I want him to? I’m sure he does. I think he’s doing it on purpose. He knows I’m getting dizzy just from having him next to me. He’s on good form tonight. He’s funny and witty, and he constantly makes me laugh.

Dear God, I want to get in his boxers more than anything in the world.

Only when it grows late and the band plays the first slow song do I get my hands on him again. Colette, Gaby, Roxie, and I have been dancing all evening, and I’m out of breath and hot when the singer starts the first few lines of George Michael’s Kissing a Fool. I feel a hand on my waist, and as I turn, Kane pulls me neatly into his arms, and within seconds we’re moving to the music.

“I need a drink,” I tell him. “And a rest. I’m puffed out.”

“Nope.” His hand tightens on mine. “Not now I’ve finally got you in my arms.”

My heart’s hammering, but I try to cover it with a sassy glance. “You’re not the boss of me,” I tell him, lifting my chin.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, fixing his gaze on my lips.

They part automatically--ohhh… I want him to kiss me. He doesn’t. He just stares at my lips as if he’s thinking about sliding his tongue and maybe other things between them, and I give a little whimper. “Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper.

He just smiles, and carries on.

For the next two hours, every time the band plays a slow song, Kane’s there, pulling me into his arms. Outside, the twilight deepens, the stars pop out onto the black velvet sky, and the night grows cool. But inside, the heat between us just intensifies, until I know there’s only one way the evening can end.

We make it to eleven p.m. The others are still dancing, and I think the party is probably going to go on for another few hours.

Kane and I are dancing, again. We’re so close, we’re practically one person. He’s spent most of the evening staring into my eyes, and therefore it doesn’t surprise me when, as one, we move apart and study each other for a moment. I nod, and we walk back to the table. I retrieve my purse and we grab our jackets.

We pause, and I glance across the dance floor, seeing Seb and Colette wrapped around each other, and Harry and Gaby dancing, and the bride and groom absorbed in each other in the middle, under the flashing lights. Nobody’s going to miss me.

He holds out his hand. I place mine in it. And we walk outside.