Page 9 of Daring to Love

“Enough!”

Aidan’s voice breaks me from the dream-like state I’m in, and the reality of where I am crashes into my conscience. The music is cut off, and as I raise my chin, looking for him, the lights are brought back. My breaths fall in a rapid staccato, and I wipe the sweat from my neck and forehead where tendrils stick. I meet his narrowed gaze and jut my chin at him, my head held high. I’m not backing down.

When it comes to the only passion I’ve ever possessed, I refuse to give up.

There is no doubt in my mind I was born to do this.

But Aidan holds all the power here, and he knows it.

“You got the part, Miss Winters. Whether you manage to keep it remains to be seen. Now…”

His voice drones on, but all I hear inside my head is that I got it. All the hard work has paid off, and silently, I move away from the other dancers to go hide in the shadows. The thickness in my throat and the prickling in my eyes are signs that I’m two-point-five seconds away from bursting into tears, and I can’t have anyone see me like that.

They’ll only find me weak, the exact opposite of who I really am.

But the refuge I seek isn’t there. Instead, I face plant directly into something hard, solid, and warm…and that is infinitely better. Arms come around me, and, still unable to think straight, I melt, leaning on whoever is holding me close. My mind is still whirring with the enormity of what just occurred back there on the stage, but here, in this strong embrace, I finally feel safe enough to let all my emotions free.

So, that’s what I do. And nothing in the world has ever felt as loving as this. I want to keep it for as long as possible, and I push up on my toes, as far as I can, and push my nose into the stranger’s neck while my arms circle his shoulders, all the while crying silent, grateful tears.

Reality can stay where it is for another couple of minutes. It isn’t going anywhere.

But for now, I’m staying exactly where I am, safe and perhaps even loved?

I don’t know.

All I do know is that I want to keep my eyes closed for a little while longer, cocooned in the strength I can feel pouring from him, and listen to his heartbeat. The low thumps fall a little bit faster the longer I linger here – and his arms grow tighter around me.

“Shh, lass…” he croons. “I’ve got ye.” His voice is soft yet rough at the same time. There is something oddly familiar yet new about it at the same time, but I push the niggling thoughts away for a few moments longer.

I don’t know how long my crying jag lasts, but finally, the tears subside, and my breaths grow steady. As I realise what I’ve done, mortification hits me like a ton of bricks, and I pull away and fall down to the soles of my feet, knowing I have to move away.

The most maddening thing is that I’m as reluctant to do that as he seems to be, because I feel his arm move up my shoulder blades, and then his fingers burrow in my hair. Tingles break out all over my body, and I bite my lip at the unknown sensations coursing through me.

“You are incredible, Amelie,” he whispers. He breathes deeply, and I feel a small huff of air against my cheek, though not for long, as his head bends, only to stop as he buries his face in my hair. A shuddering breath reaches my ears, and the tingles intensify by at least a billion.

Is that his nose? I wonder as I feel the hard planes of him all over me, and his other hand comes dangerously close to land on my butt as he runs it soothingly down my spine. It doesn’t, but I can’t quite fathom why I feel slightly disappointed by that.

“Let me take you out to dinner.”

He isn’t whispering anymore, and through the fog of desire clouding my entire being, I hold on to the fact that I know this man. Where have I heard his voice before?

Then the fog clears entirely, and I widen my eyes as the face of the journalist knocking on my door only this morning comes to mind.

Merde. What have I done?