Deathless

Chapter 21: Millie

My heart's beating so fast I think it's going to launch out of my chest. My knees are liquid. I concentrate on my steps, on the rhythmic clank as my heels hit the dark staircase leading to Jackson's office.

He holds my hand as he leads the way. Every now and again he turns to watch me, his mouth soft, his eyes ravenous. His palm is warm against mine, and every time he squeezes, my stomach flips. He offers me that devastating smile, but it's the look in his eyes that holds me. It's the sparks that burst and shatter in the silver. Maybe the smile he gives out freely, but that look, that look, is just for me. I feel it low in my belly, in the ache growing between my thighs.

As we reach the door, Jackson pulls out his keys. The door unlocks with a satisfying clunk. He pulls back, letting me walk first into the room. It's dark, but amber flashes where the faint light from the club hits metal. Shadows from the boxy furniture stretch across the walls and floor. The smell of whisky and aftershave lingers. The air is heavy but cooler than in the rest of the club.

There's a click and buttery-yellow light fills the room. It's what I imagined. Three overly large desks take up most of the space, and a brass antique bar is directly in front of a window that peers down at the dancefloor. I walk towards it, looking down at the rest of the world. Feeling a million miles away from it, but for the first time, I felt happy about the separation. Maybe I'd been through too much to reenter the world, but it didn't really matter when I'd found someone I could create a new world with.

I turn when I feel his eyes burn into me, tugging me back into the moment. He's leaning against the doorframe. His black shirt undone at the collar, revealing a triangle of pale-gold skin, rolled-up sleeves revealing the coiled muscles of his arms. His midnight-black hair pushed back, a few strands falling across his forehead. He takes my breath away. I could stare at him like this forever. The look on his face is unmistakable. And it hits me like a punch.

"Well?"

There are so many things I could say to that.

"Well, what?"

"Impressed?" I laugh and move about the room, his eyes not leaving me. I feel them sweep across my body, and I move slower. Let him look. I want him to. I want this moment to last, to linger on. To never end. Running my finger over the desk I know belongs to Jackson, I smile in his direction. It's the neatest, the most elegant, and more than a little excessive.

"You boys aren't fans of subtle, are you?" He laughs, throwing his head back.

"I'll never impress you, will I?" he says, his eyes sparkling.

I smile and back onto his desk, pulling myself up in a move I hope looks more graceful than it feels. His eyes glance down at where my dress rides up my thighs, the amusement turning into something darker, richer. It excites me.

"Not with your enormous decor budget, no." He snorts and looks away, grinning when his gaze returns to me. Breathing suddenly feels hard. I want too much and all at once. "But you impress me. All the time," I add gently.

"You never say." His face softens.

"And give you even more of an ego? The world wouldn't thank me for that."

He laughs again, and I feel my face heat. I love making him laugh. I love seeing his features soften. The mask slip. The man underneath, watching him bloom in delight.

"I adore you." The words aren't laced with charm or humour. They're uttered simply, with a slight crack to his voice, the emotion weighing down on the words. My lips part, but then I swallow hard. I know what I want to say. I feel the words dance across the tip of my tongue. But I can't give him everything. I won't, not until I know for certain he can do the same.