Fierce

Chapter 21

The night was already a disaster.

It started out badly when Charlotte decided to boycott their usual getting-ready-party in protest, which left a miserable Georgie to get ready for the gala alone. Then Alex showed up and she felt awful that her distraction was so obvious to both of them: she hardly heard a word he said. Usually she was a much better date.

Then they entered the function room.

Somehow, her eyes immediately found Lincoln's and any illusion of functioning as normal that she'd managed to maintain was gone. It had been two days since he'd walked out and they hadn't spoken since– not even a message. Yet here he was, looking back at her. And he was so handsome. Alex was undoubtedly a good-looking man too, objectively probably even better looking than Lincoln was...but to her there was no comparison at all. He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. She looked away - how could a person feel full and fluttery and relieved and warm all at the one time? It was making her nauseous.

Even though it terrified her, all she wanted to do was go over there and talk to him. But Alex was guiding her over to the bar and what would she say to Lincoln anyway? Georgie had no clue. He looked so serious. But then why wouldn't he be? Serious was exactly how she felt. When Alex struck up a conversation with some other fellow, she stayed next to him in silence. She was swilling her whiskey around her glass, staring at it in dejected misery, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She knew immediately who it was.

"Would you like to dance with me Georgie?" he said.

"Yes, very much," she croaked, nodding fearfully. He was much braver than she was; he put her to shame.

Lincoln turned to Alex to ask, out of courtesy, whether he could borrow George for a dance and she bristled at Alex's clear reluctance. "Of course it's okay, Lincoln. Alex was conversing with an old friend, and I wouldn't dream of intruding. I'll return in a while, you enjoy your catch up," the smile she gave her date was a tight one.

Lincoln extended his hand to her, enfolded it in his palm gently and led her onto the dance floor. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," she whispered, glancing self-consciously at her plain black dress. He held her carefully at the proper distance and they danced in silence. Eventually her curiosity became overwhelming and she broke their quiet bubble. "Did you um, bring anyone tonight?"

"Hmm," he confirmed. "Tanie's here somewhere. She was desperate to dress up and come along, but she found someone more interesting and disappeared."

Someone more interesting than him? Not possible, she thought.

Georgie looked up at him and he looked back at her – as if he wanted to say something. Suddenly she was struck with the need to be alone with him. Just the two of them. So she linked her fingers through his hand and pulled him out into the corridor; drawing him further away from the party and further into the darkened hall.

She came to a stop and they looked at each other once more: her with trepidation and him in determination.

"I missed you," she offered finally.

His hand cupped her face. "How've you been?"

She swallowed. "Fine. You?"

"Fine," he responded, staring at her lips. She interpreted his intentions and acted on them: winding her arms up and around, threading a hand through the hair on the nape of his neck.

"Kiss me," she demanded, and he complied readily.

What began as a tentative brush seemed to catch aflame and they both became desperate. Her back hit the wall, his body pressed flush against hers. The pressure of him was exhilarating; she was frantic with lust and longing, ready to be devoured.