Adapt (I)
Chapter Forty Three

Scarlet

“Ah, I don’t dance.” I say, looking from his face, to his hand, and back again.

Instead of waiting for me, he grabs my hand, pulling me from the chair and over toward the dance floor. “It’s just like fighting, except you don’t knee me in the face.” He jokes.

I grumble my doubts as he drags me to an area on the other side of the bar where the light is even lower and the DJ plays songs that resemble more of the night club genre I originally expected. It seems that this is the busiest part of the bar. In the low light bodies move to the rhythm, some dancing by themselves, some close to a partner. I can’t help but feel instantly drawn to what they are doing, wanting to join them.

Before I can have any second thoughts, Boe drags me into the crowd, wraps my arms around his neck and places his hands on my hips. Blush rises to my cheeks at how intimate this embrace is. He starts swaying us to the beat. With my body warmed from the drinks I had consumed tonight and the low-lit atmosphere, I feel myself respond to him unthinkingly.

His hands move my body in time with his, his fingers pressed into my flesh, running over my waist. My arms remain firmly locked around his neck, afraid to let go. All the while Boe’s eyes stay on me.

We let the music carry us away. I’m not sure where one song starts, and another stops. All I know is that for once, I stop thinking. I stop worrying about what I am; the people in my life; the people I have to save. I stop stressing about if Boe wants me, and just let the thrumming beat of the music wash through me, cleansing me.

Boe begins to move my body in different ways, coaxing my hips in different patterns and expertly guiding my feet to step in certain directions. I let him, enjoying the way our bodies click together, despite the height difference. It doesn’t occur to me to over think as I usually would. The only thing on my mind is the way Boe makes me feel.

Is it getting hot? A voice asks weakly in the back of my mind. I don’t care. My hips pressed to Boe, his hands manipulating my body. This. This is what it means to just feel like a teenager for once.

And oh, my God, it feels good. My heart is in my throat but for all of the right reasons. I let my mind wonder, thinking about Boe. He smells of pine wood and earth. I drink it in. His body, so firm yet soft against mine. I can feel every muscle in his chest flex as he moves with me. His smile is sombre and dark. And his eyes… Oh, his eyes! The deep green colour reflects in the low lights, making them the darkest of emeralds. They make me feel secure and free all in the same breath. Right here, with him, I feel like I can do anything.

As if he reads my thoughts, I feel his firm grip tighten, one of his hands sliding over my satin dress to my shoulders, up to my neck. Small muscles in his jaw flex as my body responds to his touch, leaning into it.

He leans down, eyes still on mine. He hesitates just inches from my mouth. “Scarlet,” I see his lips form the word, but no sound reaches me through the bass of the music.

I don’t know when I tell my hands to pull him down to me, but they do. Boe takes it as permission, letting his lips meet mine.

My body explodes in a wave of passion and heat. I have never felt so warm in my life. His lips move with mine, his hands supporting me as I melt deeper into the kiss. Around us people are dancing but I am not even aware of them anymore. All I can think about is how much closer I want to get to him. His grip tightens on my waist, even more, and I’m sure that it will leave a mark. I don’t care, though. Our lips’ part, and I feel the last of my barriers crumble under his touch. His hand makes its way into my hair, making a fist, urging me closer to him. I let my body curve under his touch, our lips moving in sync. I can feel low growls vibrate in Boe’s chest, mirrored by my own soft moans.

A tingling starts to move through my body, starting where Boe is touching me. The tingling inches its way through my muscles, and I feel myself shudder. Boe shudders as well and I feel...surprise.

I feel surprise, but I know, somehow, that it isn’t my surprise. It is Boe’s.

I pull back a little, shocked at what I thought I had just felt.

But Boe’s grip in my hair begs me not to stop. It doesn’t take much to convince my all too willing body. I throw myself back into the kiss, curving my spine under his hand, my hands snaking through his hair. I feel Boe gasp between my lips. A fresh wave of pure heat crashes over me. This is all too much and wholly not enough at the same time.

It isn’t until we are both breathing heavily that Boe begrudgingly pulls back. His hands still in my hair, my arms still around his neck, his face only inches away.

Our ragged breaths mingling between us, our eyes locked.

God, this is the most painful thing I have ever felt: being so close and yet not kissing him.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that.” Boe breathes.

I give a weak sort of smile and I feel my bravado slip away, replaced by insecure thoughts.

I have never been kissed like that before, but I am damn sure that Boe is the best kisser in the world. Surely, I cannot be a match for someone that kisses like that.

He lets some of the tension go in his hand on my hip but doesn’t let go of me just yet. He untangles his other hand from my hair and puts it at the curve of my neck, his thumb grazing my jawline. He leans down and brushes his lips against mine, a soft and sweet kiss that only makes me want to press myself to him again. “I think we need to cool down a little. I’m going to get us some drinks. Why don’t you meet me at our table?” He brushes his lips on mine again. Then his hands let go of me and he weaves his way from the dance floor.

I was wrong. This is the most painful thing - not being in his arms. Suddenly, I feel the breeze wash over my skin, and I shiver.

Okay Scar, collect yourself. I give myself a pep talk. Mentally, I pick up all of the pieces of my shattered equilibrium, enough to make my way off the dance floor and toward to the rest room. I need to run my face under a cold tap, or something. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The rest room door isn’t far from the dance floor. Inside is lavish black marble. It is cooler than the dance floor and I am thankful. I go to the sink and run the cold water. I splash it up my arms and a little around the back of my neck, careful not to get any spots on the dress. I take stock of myself in the mirror. My cheeks are red under my olive skin and my hair is a little dishevelled. But other than that, I look the same as when I walked into the bar. The dress clings to my body in all of the right places, the cowl still making my chest look abnormally good. I rake my fingers through my hair to detangle some of the knots Boe had put there. And my eyes, their rich brown almost...

Glowing.

I see it, the faint golden ember slowly subsiding. Then it is gone. I lean into the mirror, trying to see it again. Nothing.

I grab paper towels and hurriedly start to wipe down the water on my arms and neck. I throw the paper in the trash bin and walk out of the rest room feeling more a mess than when I walked in.

I make a beeline for the table that Boe and I were sitting at. It is still empty. I spot Boe waiting at the bar to get our drinks. I make it to the table, relieved that the breeze on the roof top is flowing over my dampened skin, cooling me down. I close my eyes and try to centre myself before Boe returns.

“Well, wasn’t that just something?” A low, silken voice says.

My eyes fling open to see Logan, sitting across from me.

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