Love & Bullets (bucky barnes x oc)

10: The Fundraiser

Champagne fizzes on your tongue. All around you, people dance. The women wear long, elegant gowns as the men twirl them on the dance floor. It is a tango of some sort, something the rich folks had taken lessons for since they were kids. Your eyes dart across the room, spying on his every move.

Finally, he turns around, smirking upon catching you staring. He looks good. And you hate it. You hate the way his dark suit hugs his toned body, the way the soft light makes his diamond Rolex sparkle. You hate the way your whole body feels alive when he whispers your name in your ear... like he tastes each syllable on his tongue. Everything.

"Dance with me." You jump, snapping out of the momentary daze. James holds his hand out, and you can feel the magnetic pull between you.

Draining the last of the champagne from the crystal glass, you raise an eyebrow, "Why should I?"

He laughs lightly, making your back arch. There's something about him... Something that makes you want more. You blush, imagining hearing that same laugh in a completely different setting, perhaps with fewer people... And less clothing.

Those damn thoughts.

"It would be a shame to be wearing a dress like that and not get some use out of it. And besides, it'll be fun." James arches his eyebrow, looking you up and down. Everything about him right now makes your body shiver.

"What? This old thing?" You look down at your dress. It was true, the dress is beautiful. Red silk hugs your curves in a sexy yet classy manner. Not to mention, it does wonders for your long legs.

"Alright, then." You reach your perfectly manicured hand out and he takes it, leading you to the dance floor. Sparks electrify your body the moment your hand intertwines with his.

"But just one dance."

"If that's what you desire."

It's not the only thing I desire...

Once you both are on the dance floor, he pulls your body close, swaying to the melody. A new song had started up, something at a faster pace, with lots of violin and piano accompaniment. You feel a hand squeezing your waist, heating your core.

As the tempo quickens, James spins you around. It may have been the alcohol, but you can't help but feel a bit lightheaded. Perhaps it's just his presence that makes your stomach do cartwheels...

As he pulls you in, you inhale the intoxicatingly spicy scent of his cologne. Another spin. He dances as if nobody is around, just you and him. His hand slides from your waist to the top of your ass, making your back arch. You lean your head back, teasing him as his warm breath tickles your neck.

With each step, his hand slides lower until his hands literally rest on your ass. His blue eyes pierce through your soul, leaving you wanting more. You decide to tease him and snake your hands to the back of his neck, staring deep into his eyes while you caress his skin. His buttery skin.

The next song is much slower. Just when you think you cannot possibly get any closer to him, he brushes his core against yours. You get jittery with each touch. James grins and rests his head next to yours, his breath tickling the flesh of your ear and neck.

"Do I make you nervous, bellezza?" His chest rumbled low as he spoke.

You pull away for a moment. "No. Why would you think that?" Immediately, you grow hyper-aware of your senses.

His grin is wolfish. "I can practically feel your heart beating out of your chest, and your breathing is rather erratic, bellezza."

Again with that damn pet name. The way it elegantly rolled off his tongue sent fire through your veins.

"What does that mean: bellezza?" Unsurprisingly to you, when you say it, the name sounds fumbled. But then again, you aren't the one who is fluent in Italian.

He lets out another laugh, "It means beauty." He leans in, whispering into your ear, "And you, Alexandra, are the most stunning thing I've ever seen."

His soft lips brush against your neck. A short gasp escapes your lips, and you pull out of his embrace. As you rush out of the ballroom, you hear footsteps following behind you. Every muscle in your body screams for you to turn back to him, but you can't. After all, he shot you. He was a cold-blooded killer... One that you couldn't escape.