Page 52 of How We Began

As I turned to complete my covert manoeuvre, I caught a glimpse of dark hair at the bar, blue eyes watching me. I froze automatically, but then watched as Ben turned away and headed for the exit. I didn’t hesitate for one moment, dashing across the dancefloor in hot pursuit.

“Hey, Ben, where you going?” I gasped as I caught up with him after pushing through a lot of hot and sweaty bodies. My hand caught his elbow, but he pulled away, face shadowed in the mood lighting of the hallway.

“Home.”

“What’s the matter?” I asked, blocking his path.

He lowered his gaze on me. “Oh, I don’t know, Delilah. Kind of don’t like seeing some other guy rub himself against you, especially when you’re dressed like that.” He waved a dismissive hand at my outfit.

“Hey! What’s wrong with my outfit?”

I’m sure there were better questions to ask but that’s the one that forced its way out first. He just raised a perfectly arched eyebrow in response.

“That’s my trainer from the gym,” I tried to explain, blustering and holding onto his arm as he turned away from me, heading up the steps to the exit. I chased him up the stairs two at a time. The music was much quieter up there and there was just a bouncer standing at the top watching our approach.

“What? Is this his bonus payment?” Ben snapped.

“What the fuck does that mean?” I shouted and the bouncer turned in our direction, probably considering the threat level we posed that early in the evening.

“Well, you know, Delilah. After Christmas, I thought that maybe if I just waited a while, gave you some time, after all that’s what you said you needed, we might be able to move on from that whole nightmare. Seems that you’ve moved on, and everyone knows it apart from me.”

We were finally both venting, which in normal circumstances was probably a good thing, but he was swaying slightly so it might not have been good right in the moment. His normally pale cheeks flushed pink and he cut me through with icy glared daggers.

I started to laugh despite his evil glares. “You think I’ve moved on, really? Yeah, this is me moving on.” I pointed to my new month-long crazy diet svelte figure.

“What do you mean?” He’d stopped shouting, his face clearing of anger but instead clouding with confusion.

“The whole reason I’ve been doing this, is because I thought that if I could feel good about myself and think of myself as attractive, maybe I wouldn’t have to be so worried about you leaving me all the time.”

“You seriously think you’re not attractive?”

“I don’t think it. I know it.” I wasn’t playing the sympathy card, it was just how I saw myself, see myself all the time if I’m being honest. “Frumpy, dumpy, and old. Just give me a twinset and some pearls and I’ll slide my way to thirty,” I muttered, but mainly to myself.

His fingers teased a trail along my hip, and not in the sticky finger move James had just tried on the dancefloor. This was a Ben-touch, so light and so delicate, it made my knees go weak.

“Please don’t change yourself for me?” His voice lowered, burrowing into my chest.

“I’m not. I’m doing it for me.” I don’t know if this was the truth, or if it was what I was telling myself to make my heart stop aching all bruised and battered.

“Lilah.” There it was, his low, intimate way of saying my name that makes my stomach flip. “I didn’t do anything with that girl. I promise.”

For a long moment I held my breath before I sighed, sagging a little with the weight of the last few months. “I know, Ben. I believe you. I just need to be stronger in myself so that if anything like that happens again, it won’t crush the life out of me.”

He pulled me closer, his lips on my neck. “Nothing like that will ever happen again. You have to trust me.”

Desire burned a scorched path of destruction through my limbs, my stomach, until it consumed every molecule within me.

“I know, Ben, but I need to trust myself, too. I’ve got to be stronger, better, bra—”

I didn’t get to finish. His lips smashed on mine, firm and hard, teasing my mouth open. My willpower disintegrated like a stack of cards and I allowed him to push me towards a nearby doorway, Foxtons, I think.

For a few moments I allowed myself to completely forget everything, I just let Ben reel me in and enjoy the feel of his mouth on mine, the way his hands moved over me, and the sensation of having his skin under my fingertips again. After a while, I pulled away.

“I can’t do more than this at the moment,” I breathed out, a little breathless and with my thoughts spinning with hopes and wild dreams.

He just squeezed my hand and led me back into the club where we had to beg to be let back in again, explaining that we’d left our jackets and belongings behind. Oh, and our friends, too. The bouncer was laughing. I think he enjoyed our little lovers’ spat. He gave me a cheeky wink as I passed by.

Back in the club, Ben stuck to me like glue. We didn’t touch, apart from occasionally in passing, but each connection sent a little charge of electricity across my skin. James eyed the competition, giving in with reasonable grace and moving off to find a new target, but not before he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, which made Ben stiffen at my side.