Virgin

“Where will we go?”

“Do you like dancing?”

She nods, a smile playing about her lips.

“Do you like drinking Jameson?”

The smile becomes a grin. “I’m not adverse to trying it.”

I pull her close to my body. “Want to go to a sixties club called Le Coq?”

She nods. “I should tell my friends first, though.”

I turn my head. “No need. Just wave to them. I think they get the picture.”

She blushes deep red as she waves goodbye to the three girls gawking at us.

Chapter Four

Izzy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8VbeXzdWWM

Nightcall

I’ve left a party on the arm of a stranger. Not just any stranger, either, but one the gossip magazines claim is an infamous cad, the type to love ‘em and leave ‘em.

I don’t do things like this!

I’ve never left a party with a strange man, no matter how sexy he was, or how blue his eyes were, or how thick and rich his hair was. Just because I want to tangle my fingers in Tyson’s black mane and never let go, or that his smile makes my toes curl, I shouldn’t be leaving with him.

But I am.

I used to shake my head condescendingly when I read about girls who got suckered in by a sexy smile, or a great pair of eyes.

Now I get it.

It’s not just the smile or the eyes, though they count too. It’s the way someone makes you feel when they look at you. When we were at that party, surrounded by a hundred other people, he made me feel as if I was the only woman in the room, no, make that in the world. Nobody else existed. Not even Kylie, and she’s the one men normally trip over me to get closer to. Not that I do badly on my own, but when I’m with her I might as well switch off the lights and go to bed: I’m invisible.

Except with him.

He is so tall I have to throw my head back to look at him. Not conventionally good-looking, but dark and hawkish. Almost dangerous and irresistibly seductive. And the hunger in his eyes! That is a damn beautiful thing. My heart is beating wildly in my ribcage, as we go down the thickly carpeted corridor and step into the lift. The doors swish close. In the electric atmosphere we don’t talk. I watch our reflections in the highly polished doors.

Tyson is leaning against the back wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. I can’t stop looking at the black shirt he’s wearing, the way the top buttons are undone, showing off a delectable triangle of chiseled golden chest. I lift my eyes to his and our gazes meet. The naked lust in his eyes makes me tingle from head to toe.

“Are you a friend of Brad’s?” he asks.

“Oh, no, Kylie got us all into the party. She’s the one with the red hair,” I explain. I wish my pulse would stop fluttering so frantically.

“Ah, I see. I should have introduced myself to everyone before moving in on you. I suppose you’ll get an earful tomorrow.”

“That’s a very unlikely scenario. They’ll want an earful from me—didn’t you notice them all staring at us with their mouths and eyes open wide as we left?”

He grins. “No, it’s something that can’t be unseen.”

I laugh even though I am still shocked by my own bold behavior.

“Are you girls on holiday?”

“No, we’re here for my friend’s wedding. It’s tomorrow and we’re all bridesmaids.”

“Ah.”

The lift opens out to the lobby. He holds my elbow. It’s not a firm grip, but the sort of thing that clearly lets people know I’m with him. It’s sexy in a possessive, caveman way. I like it. The night porter nods at us as we pass him by. Outside, the night is hot and dark. The way it has never felt to me before. I take a deep breath to clear my head. I feel almost giddy with the thrill of his presence.

“Where are we headed?” I ask as he hails a taxi.

He looks at his watch. “We’re going to a club, but we’re also just in time to see the Eiffel Tower.”

I smile. “I’ve seen it.”

“Ah, but you haven’t seen what it does every hour on the hour from ten to midnight, have you?”

I shake my head. My expression is curious, but he doesn’t explain.

He puts me into the taxi and goes over to the other side.

He tells the driver the name of the street, but I don’t catch it. “Take the route that passes the Eiffel Tower,” he instructs.

The driver who has a shock of curly dark hair nods. “Oui.”

Sitting so close without all the other aromas of the bar, I smell him. He smells like a man should. Woodsy with the faint smell of leather and spice. I look up at him. Even in the dark his eyes are too bright. Too blue. Like slicked topaz jewels. My mouth parts.

“I want a taste,” he says, his voice guttural.

Without waiting for a reply, his hands tighten around my upper-arms and his face descends. He stops half-an-inch away from me and inhales deeply as if he is breathing in my essence. Gently he licks my lips. Desire sears my insides, making my thighs clench.

“Peach?”

“Peach schnapps cocktail,” I gasp unsteadily.

Then, his lips capture my mouth, and he takes.

And takes.

And takes.

As if he has been starving for me. The hunger makes my head spin. My body arches towards him, my hands desperately clawing his shirt, pulling him closer.

The taxi driver coughs loudly.

I pull away, flushed, embarrassed, and amazed by my behavior. Unable to tear my eyes away from his heavy-lidded ones I stare disbelievingly into them.

“The lights, Izzy,” Tyson whispers, huskily.

I turn my head then, and for a second, my dazed brain computes what I see as an effect of the kiss, a hallucination. Because the tower seems to be sparkling, the lights twinkling, and flashing really fast. I blink a few times in astonishment before I realize that it must be the special effect that Tyson wanted to show me. The ro

ad turns off and we start driving parallel to it. I turn back to watch it. When I swivel my head back to Tyson, he is watching me.

“Thank you for showing me. It’s beautiful,” I murmur.

“My pleasure,” he says, and the way he looks at me makes my throat close over.

He doesn’t touch me again, but sitting next to him, my whole body tingles with excitement as we drive through the streets of Paris. He seems happy enough just to be going somewhere with me, which warms me up inside.

I turn my head and stare at the scenery, but once our eyes meet, I forget to breathe. How is it possible that I feel like I know him when we only just met? When I look at him and he looks at me, I can almost hear his thoughts. I bet we could have a whole conversation without saying a word.

When the taxi stops, he hands the driver some money. Grabbing my hand, he yanks me out of the seat with him. I land on my feet and, filled with awe at the adventure my life has become, look up into his face.

The wind catches his hair, plays with it, and throws it across his forehead. He pushes it away as it starts to rain. A fine mist that soaks my upturned face.

“Come on,” he says. Holding me close, he takes me through a set of wooden doors.

Le Coq is heaving. He clears a path for me through the solid wall of people. I notice them looking at him, parting to make way for him. He is so big and commanding. We go past a zinc bar and reach another door with a doorman.

He nods at Tyson and beckons us through. We go down some stone steps, and open another door.

It is like going back in time.

Chapter Five

Izzy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TqL_pinZVp8

Tutti Frutti

“Oh,” I exclaim, “it’s like we are in a dance hall in sixties America.” Waitresses dressed in sixties mini-dresses and beehive wigs pass by balancing trays of drinks. There is a little stage where a rock and roll band is performing, people are dancing to their lively music, and the atmosphere is amazing.