higher

"The way you slide across the floor

I think you know

That I'm only gonna beg for more."

The crowd roars with delight at the opening notes of Tina Turner's The Best blaring through the speakers. Felix joins him at the edge of the dancefloor, his forehead glazed with sweat and a content smile lights up his face. James scans the room, his gaze sweeps past Della (right in the middle, flanked by her bridesmaids) and lands on its intended target.

She's not the easiest to spot through the mass of giddy, swaying bodies, but the long blonde hair and that dress are a dead giveaway. She caught his eye the moment he and Felix had ditched their parachutes and led the awestruck guests into the church this afternoon, yet he still hasn't had the chance to introduce himself. He watches her throw her head back in laughter at something the redhead she's been glued to all day has said, watches her start to dance with her arms waving in the air; those hypnotic hips of hers hitting the exact beat of the music.

He's not entirely sure, but he thinks that he stops breathing when she dips down lower. Reflexively craning his neck to get a better look, his throat feels very dry when he notices that her dress has ridden up ever so slightly. He doesn't even consider looking away. The whole night could be spent watching her move and he would be incredibly happy with that.

This proves to be wishful thinking, however, as he feels a hard thump against his forearm.

"Hey!" Felix shouts over the music. "Quit drooling!"

"Who is she?" He yells back, forcing himself to look at the groom.

"One of Del's college roommates. The redhead too."

James arches an eyebrow. "Does the blonde have a name?"

"Of course she does, but you're not getting it out of me."

He shakes his head, stealing one last glance over in her direction to find both women practically staring at him and he quickly focusses his attention back on Felix. They make small talk about the ceremony, making sure to skirt around what happened that morning.

A few minutes later, he spots her queueing at the bar. He doesn't even need to say anything to Felix, but the amused look he gets in return is enough for him to offer to fetch him a drink. He's off before he even hears the answer, carefully dodging through the throng of people that are scattered between the two of them. By the time he gets there, she's watching the barman search for a bottle of white wine.

Thankfully, nobody is waiting to order on her right, so he strolls over and calls out his order, resting his arm on the side of the bar.

"Vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred."

The sound of his voice makes her head turn, and soon enough he's met with the most stunning pair of green eyes he's ever seen. Her full lips are coated in lipstick the same shade of blood red as her dress, and her high cheekbones are flushed with a beautiful glow from the exertion of all the dancing she's been doing. He's still taking in every inch of her face when her mouth opens, only to be interrupted by the arrival of her glasses of wine and in the blink of an eye, she's gone again.

Momentarily confused, he blinks hard and grabs the martini that waits in front of him. He takes a slow sip, thinking through his next move. Despite not believing in these things, he can't deny that something inexplicable is pulling him towards her.

What he needs to do is bide his time. And that, he does.

He can't take his eyes off of her as she returns to her friend, saying something to the redhead that makes her explode with laughter. They both take large swigs of their wine before getting up and heading back onto the dancefloor.

He finishes his drink and moves away from the bar in an attempt to be able to get closer to her, weaving back through the crowd again to find a space near the top table.

The music changes again, and he's well past bothering with pretending to scan the rest of the room now. The first bars of Abracadabra start up and the pair of them are dancing in the middle of the floor, her arms looped around her friend's neck.

When the chorus kicks in, something changes in the way she moves. It's almost as though she knows he's watching as she slows down again and tosses her hair.

Is that a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth?

All he knows is that he's becoming increasingly hot under the collar, bordering on the point where he's going to need to either reach out and grab her as the song is suggesting, or do something drastic to cool himself down.

He has no idea how she's making him feel like this. Never has he been so completely and utterly transfixed by a woman. The feeling of powerlessness is new to him, so is the white heat of jealousy that rushes through James on sight of the man who dares try to entice her into dancing with him. A relieved sigh escapes him when she doesn't bite, shooting the man a polite smile before turning away from him.

The agony of keeping his eye on her from a distance continues for a good half an hour, until she shouts something into her friend's ear, walks over to her table to grab her handbag and walks briskly towards the door that opens out onto the patio.

Your move, 007, his instincts are screaming at him.

He's hot on her heels, determined to get to her before anyone else has the chance to steal her away. His long strides allow him to catch up with her at the doorway and he hesitates for a moment, stealthily observing as she takes another couple of steps forwards. Her attention turns to her handbag, plucking a cigarette from a packet and placing it between her lips. The search for her lighter seems to be less successful, as she's rummaging around inside the bag to no avail.

Now, he tells himself.

Deep breath.

The cool metal of his brand new lighter is safely ensconced in his burning hand.

One step.

Two.

"Need a light?"