The Sheikh's Virgin Bride(93)

Although Lucy only responded with a glare, I carried on, anyhow.

“I don’t mind—in fact, I think you look stunning.”

Despite herself, Lucy let the crack of a smile appear through her scowl.

“Well. If we get kicked out or anything bad happens, I’m holding you responsible.”

Taking her hand, I gave it a squeeze.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Luckily, we’d arrived late enough that most of the long-winded, tear-spilling speeches were over. So, as we sipped extravagant drinks neither of us could remember the names of, the party was only starting.

Marley Brooks and Janine Banks were as wild as could be expected, starting the dance floor in their barely-butt-covering dresses. Celia Patterson remembered me from last time, cocking her bleach-blond head at me and beckoning me over with a long, fake pink nail.

For my part, however, I could only blissfully smile back. Not because some super-hot Hollywood starlet still remembered and wanted me after one night, months ago, no. I was smiling because of the incredible woman on my arm, the one who made me want to get up and dance.

So we did.

Marley and Janine may have started the dance floor, but Lucy and I made it really happen. With no more than one drink downed apiece, we grooved up a storm. We did every cheesy dance move in the book—discoed, waltzed, Macarena-d, you name it. We jumped and swayed and spun, getting nearly everyone at the party out there on the dance floor with us, laughing and whooping along to the beat.

And, as the music brought us closer and closer, joined our dance moves into a combined, silly, off-beat bob, even as my breath grew ragged and my side hurt from the laughing and the boogying, still, I couldn’t stop.

It was too much fun, this hilarious movement with this shy woman I couldn’t quite place. I couldn’t let go of the warm, soft little hand in mine, couldn’t turn away from her beaming face, no. I could only keep going, and let this night take me where it would.

Finally, Lucy’s red face rose to my ear.

“Can we take a break?”

Practically gasping in relief, I nodded.

Taking her arm, I led her out the door, down a hallway that I was hoping led outside. As we walked, I slung my arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

“I didn’t take you for a dancer.”

She smiled, but didn’t meet my eye.

“I’m not. It was just…the drink, or the music, or you…maybe all of the above.”

“You keep on surprising me, you know that?”

Now, I couldn’t tell whether her face was red from exertion or embarrassment.

“You’ve been a continual surprise to me too, Khabib.”

We had reached a door which, sure enough, led to an outside fire escape staircase.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I…I don’t know. I remembered you from when I was a receptionist, so I knew you’d be fun and charming. I just never figured…”

She took a deep breath of the cool night air.

“What?”

“I don’t know, for you to be so…humble, or human, I guess. I thought all you cared about was partying and having fun. I realize the irony that I’m saying this in the middle of a party we’re having fun at, but still.”

I took her hand and squeezed it.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Lucy. These past few years, it feels like I’ve been asleep the whole time. Something about you woke me up, reminded me of parts of myself I’d all but forgotten. I’d started to take my loneliness as a given, my loss of real feeling as part and parcel of being away from where I’d grown up. But you, with your sweet, genuine smile, and that way you look at me—deep, straight into my soul—I can’t help but try to be the man you see in me.”

She was looking at me with those saucer-big eyes again, looking so beautiful that I could have kissed her right then. Only I didn’t, couldn’t. I had to say this, first.

“And it’s like you’ve somehow kept something everyone else has forgotten, a vulnerability to life, a willingness to feel, that everyone else has done away with. Lucy, I can’t tell you how many women I’ve talked to who look at me with glazed, guarded eyes, a suspicious unwillingness to feel. You look at me like I’m the only person in the world. You, Lucy Morrison, are nothing short of staggering, and unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”

She turned her face to look at the bright, round moon.

“What about what your parents want for you? Don’t they expect you to…I don’t know…go home and find a wife, or something?”

Now, she was looking at her hands, so embarrassed and awkward and cute that I had to kiss her, didn’t have any choice. When I broke away, I leaned down and took her face in my hands.

“Lucy, haven’t you heard a word I’ve been saying? How could I go back and find a wife—or find anyone else, really—when I’ve found you?”

This time, she believed me; I could see it in her eyes as I leaned in to kiss her again. And yet, as I held her, she didn’t give in to me fully, not as much as I would’ve wanted.

So, we stood there, just holding each other. Out there in the moonlit night, on the rickety staircase, with the music from the party wafting through the open door. We stood there, my arms around her, pressing her to my chest. If she could feel my heart beating, then she knew just how happy I was—and how nervous.