We’re all on the same dancefloor, but we all dance to different songs and some of us dance to shorter songs than others.

“Your grandmother always used to say that we’re all on the same dancefloor, but we all dance to different songs and some of us dance to shorter songs than others.”

Some of us don’t even stay for the duration of the song, Rowan thought bitterly. He did remember his granny saying that, that the world was a big dancefloor.

“Well, your song is a beautiful composition. Any woman with a bit of common sense will see that.” His grandfather squeezed Rowan’s arm again, took a sip of his whisky and moved to the safer topic of the following week’s football games. An interest in football was a trait Rowan had missed from both sides of his family.

She wanted him to envelop her, to engulf her.

He was more relaxed this time, more confident. He kept one hand on her waist and the other on the side of her neck. She wanted him to envelop her, to engulf her. She wanted to feel his body all around her, all over her. She wanted to get inside his clothes, inside his body and inside his mind. She wanted him, there was no doubt about it. There was no doubt about him wanting her either. His kisses were passionate and hungry but still had that carefulness about them, as if he worried she might break under his touch or evaporate into thin air. She was more concerned that the lack of his touch might make her implode.

Inside him, it was like a sunny summer’s day on a Cornish beach...

She reached her hand behind her back and grabbed his. She could just as easily have gripped another part of him because she wasn’t looking. She was wearing gloves, the thin kind, but he wasn’t. He had forgotten to bring them, and it wasn’t cold. Even if it had been, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Inside him, it was like a sunny summer’s day on a Cornish beach – complete with a light breeze that ensured it wasn’t too lovely. He worried that she didn’t realise she was holding his hand. She probably didn’t want to hold anybody’s hand and particularly not his.