He stood for a moment to catch his breath. She watched him close his eyes, squeezing the muscles as though he was trying to get control of himself. ‘You were kissing another guy.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘In front of me. You were flirting and laughing and kissing him, and I wanted to knock his fucking teeth out.’
‘It’s none of your business.’
He threw his hands up. ‘Of course it’s my goddamned business. You’re mine, Cesca.’
She shook her head violently. ‘No I’m not.’
‘Are you his then?’ Sam’s voice was incredulous. ‘You want to be with that asshole?’
There was something about his jealousy that made her feel afraid and turned on in equal measure.
‘No, I’m not his and I’m not yours. I’m mine, Sam, mine. Nobody owns me.’
‘I can see that.’
Cesca frowned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ The fireworks overhead were turning Sam’s face from vermilion to a golden colour.
‘I’ve been watching you all night.’
The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine. ‘That must have been very boring for you.’
It was his turn to shake his head. ‘It was fascinating. And enraging. Do you know how many men were checking out your legs? I had to watch them leering every time you walked past. I wanted to kill every last one of them.’
‘Sam.’ Her voice was gentler, more cajoling. ‘I can’t stop people from doing whatever they want to.’
‘That fucking skirt though . . . ’
‘It isn’t even mine,’ she protested. ‘I had to borrow it from Gabi. I didn’t bring any waitressing clothes out with me.’
He tugged his hair impatiently out of his eyes. ‘I can’t stand looking at you and not being able to touch you. I can’t st
and hearing your voice and knowing you’re not talking to me. I can’t stand seeing you laugh and know that it isn’t me who made you happy. I can’t fucking stand any of it, Cesca.’ His voice lowered to a whisper. ‘It’s killing me.’
‘I’m leaving tomorrow,’ she told him. ‘Then you won’t have to see me at all.’ It was obvious he didn’t like her the way she liked him. Why would he? He was so far out of her league it wasn’t funny. No, it wasn’t funny at all. It was heartbreaking.
‘You’re not leaving.’
‘Yes I am.’
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The shock of his touch made her jump. But he didn’t let go. Instead he moved his fingers down her cheek, along her jawbone, drawing a line of heat hotter than any of the fireworks exploding above them.
He leaned down, pressing his lips where his fingers were only moments ago. ‘Tell me this doesn’t feel right, Cesca. Tell me this doesn’t feel good.’
She opened her mouth but nothing came out. It couldn’t, because to deny his words would have been a lie. Instead she let him kiss her throat, his hands brushing up and down her sides, until he moved his lips up, sliding them back towards her mouth.
Then she was kissing him back, her lips greedy and demanding. He circled his hands around her waist, pulling her closer, and it felt so right she thought she might explode.
‘Cesca,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘Tell me you want me.’
He slid his hand beneath her blouse, trailing his fingers up her spine.
‘Of course I want you,’ she sighed.
‘Then why are you fighting me? Babe, something that feels this right can’t be wrong, can it?’ He was kissing her again, deeply, passionately. She closed her eyes, the explosions in the sky turning her lids different colours. Every part of her wanted to hold him, to be held. It was the first time in days she’d felt happiness.