Lost in You. Sommer Marsden

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СКАЧАТЬ Martin, rich boy extraordinaire, at my heels.

      At the top I stood still, trying to steady my heart. I wanted to kiss him again but forced the urge down and ignored it. I threw the door wide and said, ‘Tada!’

      He chuckled, flipped the lights on. ‘Wow.’

      ‘Yes, wow! Isn’t it amazing? What do you think the projectionist did up here during movies? Do you think he dressed up?’

      ‘A cross-dresser?’ He waggled his eyebrows at me.

      ‘Maybe!’ The old costumes dazzled, still hung on a long costuming rack. They had a layer of dust on them. When I visited I had fantasies about bringing a leaf-blower with me to blow the thick layer of dust off the gorgeous fabrics. Maybe a good shot of air would save the fabric, restore the costumes to their original glamour.

      ‘Why costumes?’

      ‘Originally, when they aired silent movies here and even when they had talkies, they’d have intermission and dancing girls. Girls who sold popcorn and cigarettes and candy. It’s all … it’s like a time capsule,’ I squealed.

      Dorian grabbed my forearms and kissed me.

      ‘What was that for?’

      ‘You’re so happy,’ he whispered. ‘It’s contagious.’

      I nodded and let myself just stare at him. His strong jaw and bright eyes and very, very kissable mouth. He gave me a boyish half grin and I swore I could feel my lungs deflating from the impact of that smile.

      ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I … you –’ I shook my head and grabbed his face and kissed him. Hard.

      Every stroke of his tongue over mine made me warmer despite the invading damp from the storm. Every time he sucked gently on my tongue I felt a spike of heat fill my pussy. Every inch closer he moved as he kissed me greedily had me on the verge of just begging him to take me. Right then. Right there.

      I couldn’t do that, of course. He was still my boss, after all. Despite rabid attraction. Despite warm fuzzy feelings he somehow inspired.

      Finally I managed to pull back.

      He touched my hair. Wrapped two long strands around his fingers and tugged gently. ‘I like kissing you, Clover.’

      ‘I like that you like kissing me, Mr – Dorian.’

      ‘Reverting to mister after a kiss like that?’ He chuckled.

      I moved away from him fast. Better to get control of myself. ‘So what do you think? Isn’t it amazing?’

      ‘It is,’ Dorian said. He ran his fingers over old movie posters.

      I’d been in here many times during renovations. Often I slipped inside just to sit on the old velveteen couch and think in peace for a minute or two.

      ‘This movie was out in the Forties.’ He whistled and flipped past the poster to see what was next. ‘Fifties, Sixties. There’s some valuable stuff in here. Whoever’s been storing it could probably make a killing on eBay.’

      ‘Chuck has been running this projector for forty years, I think.’

      I walked to the small projector window and looked down into the theatre. Big well-padded seats that had been reupholstered to stay true to the original movie house. It was easy to look down and see men and women in period dress smoking cigarettes as the film played on. The original piano for the silent films was on the stage.

      Dorian moved up close behind me. I could feel his energy close to mine despite the fact that he wasn’t touching me. Not yet.

      He couldn’t see my face so he couldn’t see when I shut my eyes and willed him to touch me. I saw in the small reflection that he was moving to do just that. Reaching towards me. Then a boom sounded through the whole Rotunda, seeming to rattle the very floor beneath our feet. The lights went out and another boom echoed around us.

      Adrenalin flooded my body and I lunged towards him. Not thinking, just reacting. I grabbed him and he put his arms around me, smoothing my hair as the lights began a crazy flicker-on-flicker-off pattern.

      ‘It’s OK, Clover. Hey … it’s OK.’

      This was not the way I wanted to end up in his arms.

      After about three minutes of non-stop flickering, the lights stabilised. I looked up at him, waiting to feel sheepish or foolish. Neither came. It was too much work. All I could focus on was getting my heart-rate down to a non-lethal rhythm.

      Dorian walked me to the sofa and helped me sit. By the projector, under the makeshift desk that I was pretty sure was made of a salvaged door, was a dorm-room-sized fridge. Dorian opened it and brought me a cold soda.

      ‘Drink,’ he said. ‘A little bit of sugar will help. You’re as white as a sheet.’

      ‘My sheets are blue,’ I said, attempting a joke. He tried to smile but the concern on his face won over any other expression.

      He sat next to me, took my hand and turned it palm up. He began to rub my wrist softly but firmly, right at my pulse point. ‘My mother used to do this when I didn’t feel well. I have absolutely no idea if it actually works … or what it works for, but right now it’s making me feel useful. So I hope you don’t mind.’

      ‘No. I’m sorry. I feel really, really stupid. It was just a shock,’ I said. I sipped the cold cola and sighed as the sweetness burst across my tongue. I felt a little stronger. A little less transparent.

      His eyes were serious. I realised he’d been in a jovial mood since we’d met, because the seriousness I now found in his gaze changed his entire face. ‘What happened to you?’

      I looked away, suddenly fascinated with the walls, the costumes, the analogue clock ticking time away on the wall. It was nearing dinner time. We’d been wandering for that long? ‘Nothing,’ I lied.

      He pressed his lips together, looking unsure. Knowing what I knew about him, he was probably deciding whether he should let that pass or press me. His fingers continued to sweep back and forth along my pulse point. Even though it had slowed it was still somewhat erratic. I was pretty sure the erratic part was due to him touching me that way.

      ‘That was quite a reaction to noise. I’ve seen people react that way before,’ he said. He dropped my hand and took the soda from me. Then he placed the cold can in the hand he’d just released and claimed my other hand. There he was, once again sweeping his thumb back and forth across my pulse point. I felt that touch far beyond my wrist. I felt it in my belly and like a bright ball of fire in my chest. I felt it like a thundering heartbeat between my legs.

      I bit my lip and tried to focus on what he was saying.

      ‘Oh, yeah?’

      ‘Yeah.’ In the dim light of the office I could see his eyes had darkened but that’s all they appeared to be. Dark eyes. The green was completely hidden by the gloom. A whistle of wind could be heard and I had a bright, vivid image of the whole domed roof of the Rotunda lifting up and off the building. The worst-case СКАЧАТЬ