The Mighty Storm (Raura Revised)

Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Ross' – Ross. He's a rock star and as hot as hell – smoking in fact.

But he's also a womaniser. This is what he does.

I can't lose my sense around him again. I can't let myself become just another name in his long list of conquests.

I have too much to lose if I do.

I use the toilet, wash my hands, cool my face with the water, then with a clear straight head, I make my way back to our table in the VIP lounge.

Ross is already there sitting with the guys, and also the girl Tom has acquired for the night.

He looks up at my approach and the second my eyes meet with his, whatever sense I had just talked myself into, packs its bags and fucks off, leaving me to the mercy of my hormones.

The booth is full. Ross shuffles over, giving me a sliver of room to sit on, and also forcing me to sit next to him.

He puts his arm around the back of the seat, behind me. My thigh is pressed up tight against his.

"Alright?" he asks me quietly.

I nod, yes, briefly meeting his eye.

He passes me a fresh beer. My fingers touch his and a charge flies through my hand and up my arm.

"I thought we could have one more then head back to the hotel," Ross says quietly to me.

"Ahum," nodding, I take a mouthful of my beer.

He moves his hand down, and then I feel his thumb start to gently stroke the bare skin on my back.

It feels intimate. So totally intimate, and that's because it is.

I chug harder on my beer.

In the irony right now wishing I was sober so I could think clearer in this situation, and how exactly to extract myself from it.

No, I'll rephrase that – figure out how to want to extract myself from it.

My head and heart are not matching at the moment, and my hormones are raging a war all on their own.

Continuing to sip on my beer, I listen to the guys talk, but I really can't focus. All I can focus on is Ross' thumb, gently stroking that one small part of my body.

It's like everything has homed in on this one small area. I'm heated. My skin is humming, buzzing under his touch.

I put my beer down on the table, and bind my hands together in my lap.

Focus. I just need to focus.

Then Ross put his hand under the table. He pushes his fingers in-between my palms, forcing my hands apart and takes hold of my hand.

Ross often holds my hand, that's nothing new, but this time it's different. There's a different meaning there. Or was it there all the other times too?

I don't know, but what I do know now, is that this feels like he's staking a claim on me.

And I like the feeling. I want to be his.

He slides his fingers in-between mine, entwining our hands like lovers would, and rests our bound hands onto his hard thigh.

I could try to pretend his touch on my back was nothing. But not this.

I look across at him.

He stares back at me steadily, for a long moment before looking away, but I read his eyes clearly.