Page 117 of Pandora's Pleasure

He was going to confess his love. I held his stare, disappearing into chestnut eyes that reflected a multitude of complexities that now shone with tenderness.

My heart was beating faster than it ever had. I craved this man, craved his intoxicating touch.

“I have something for you.” He slipped a hand into his pocket.

“Oh?”

Damien frowned in frustration as he looked up the pathway.

Someone was approaching.

It was Theo. “Sorry, bad time?”

“No, it’s fine,” I said, refusing to budge from Damien’s lap.

Because we had the rest of our lives to tell each other how we felt. My love burned brightly for this man who held me in his arms.

My heart is telling me to stay.

Theo looked down at the bottle of tequila he was holding. He held three shot glasses in his other hand. “We have a problem, Damien.”

“We do?” he replied.

“Pandora confessed to something shocking,” said Theo.

Damien and I swapped a wary glance. My thoughts circled back to my discussion with Theo, and I tried to figure out what he was about to say.

Theo nodded slowly, frowning. “She’s never heard of Duran Duran.”

Damien threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. “We have to rectify this.”

“I know, right?” Theo stepped forward and raised the bottle.

“In all honesty, Duran Duran was before our time, too. Tamer’s an 80s music geek.” Damien lifted me off his lap and stood alongside me.

I leaned in and wrapped my arms around him, not wanting to return to the party just yet. His right arm tightened around me.

“Come on,” said Theo. “She needs to experience one of the most successful bands of the golden era in music.”

“You forgot to mention the hairstyles.” Damien laughed and it made him look adorably young and carefree.

“I want to hear this music,” I said.

“The lady has spoken.” Theo uncorked the tequila bottle with his teeth. “A shot each to make the rest of the evening bearable.” He set his phone on the edge of the fountain and pressed play.

“You realize she’s too young to drink,” said Damien, winking at me.

Theo ignored him. “This is from the Rio album.”

A moody synth style sounded around us, a man’s smooth lyrics mimicked an almost erotic groan.

“This one was written by lead singer Simon Le Bon.” Damien reached out and took the bottle of tequila from Theo, tipping it back to take a gulp. His mouth made an O as though the liquor burned his throat. “Pure genius.”

“I like it,” I said, amused as Damien sang along.

I gestured my insistence for a drink.

Damien grabbed a shot glass from Theo and poured some tequila into it, then offered it to me, the spark from his touch sending electricity into my hand.