Broken Wings

Part Forty One - don't be scared...

A/N Thanks for the patience, this has been a difficult chapter to get right. Hope I have... Plus it's been a difficult week, thanks to @selmazac for sharing for me on the last chapter. Getting there slowly, and I'm back on the case. So this is a HUGE chapter, let me know if it hits the right place. MZxxx

Chapter Forty One

Dance.

Such a simple word. But a million miles away from the sensation of moving around the dance floor in Aaron's arms. The plink-plunk jazz had faded into something far more bluesy, and smoochy as she'd have called it in school. Aaron was strong, tall, this huge presence, she felt like a scarf draped around him. They moved and swayed to the music, and every few moments, he swirled her around, dramatically, and very bloody sexily.

Their pelvises were touching, their cheeks almost as close. The warmth of his body was as intoxicating as the smell that could only be him, expensive aftershave, but so much more than that, and the sensation of his hand, electric over her lower back. She wanted to kiss him, that seemed liked the only logical choice. That or explode.

"Perfect," the word was a breath at her ear, and as she swooned, her knees weakening. The chuckle in response was even more breathtaking.

She squirmed in his arms, suddenly uncomfortable, and as if sensing that, he led her back to their booth, again tucking her in to the depths of it, barricading her with his body. Filling the two teacups with more gin, he watched as she sipped at it, before taking a drink himself.

"You OK?" He asked, his voice a rasp.
Julia turned in her seat, biting her bottom lip as she nodded. Then she leaned forward, into him. Hoping that he would put her out of her misery. When he didn't meet her in the middle, she pushed her face up to his, bringing their lips together.

Whoosh. It was like striking a match, the hunger, the need, the desire. Swirling like a whirlwind between them. His hands gripped her shoulders, holding her still, at arm's length, only their lips touched...and tongues, and teeth. And she was frustrated. But then she realised that he was restraining himself, for her. Her list said kissing, but not much more. This frustration, the lack of contact was him being all that she dictated.

If she touched him now, what would that mean? Would he fight her? Reciprocate? She wasn't sure.

"More," she breathed. More command than request. He looked at her quizzically, for a long moment, then with an almost imperceptible nod, he dropped his head again, his lips finding hers. His hands moved to her hips, and she used that as an excuse to throw herself against his chest, arms draping around his neck, her thigh pushing against his.

Aaron broke away almost dramatically, and if he hadn't been breathing so deeply, then she'd worry that he was rejecting her. But the reaction, the way he was struggling to deal with the moment was the insight she needed into him, into the way he was struggling to control his emotions. It was all that she wanted to see.

He stood, offering her a hand, she glanced at the half empty cups still on the table, then with a shrug allowed him to lead her out of the club.

The street was dark and this was as secluded as Manhattan got. Aaron was very dominant, pulling her across the road to a small darkened doorway. There he pushed her against the wall and devoured her afresh, swallowing her moans with his warm, insistent lips. She didn't melt as she had in the past, this time she was winding up, like a clock, the tension was right back there.

"Touch me," she breathed, wrapping her arms around him, but still he kept his hands, off her, instead resting them on the wall either side of her head. "Please?"