Love is the Drug. Ashley Croft

for letting me know. You … um … have some on your bum … I mean, the back of your kilt.’

      He twisted round. ‘Oh God. Do I?’

      ‘’Fraid so. It gets everywhere, doesn’t it?’ she said, instantly regretting her words in case he thought she was referring to something under his kilt.

      ‘Apparently so.’

      Molly glanced down at the party popper nestled between her cleavage. What else was she going to find on her person?

      ‘Shall I um … help you retrieve that? I’ll be careful,’ said Ewan, as if the popper was a seal pup that needed rescuing.

      ‘Oh, go on then.’

      His fingers fumbled inside her plunge bra, fished out the popper and dropped it on the floor. Goose bumps popped out all over her skin. Just another totally normal reaction to external stimuli, thought Molly, nothing to do with Ewan per se …

      ‘Mol, I really think I may be a bit pissed …’ he whispered into her hair.

      ‘I know I’m a lot pissed.’

      ‘Then by the laws of the universe,’ he murmured as George warbled on, ‘we must cancel each other out so that’s acceptable.’

      Ewan was smiling happily, in the way she’d occasionally seen him do before. Like when one of the retiring admin ladies had given him a fruit cake for his birthday because he “needed feeding up”. Was that how he saw her? Kind and hardworking but harmless? No way. The way he’d retrieved that party popper had nothing to do with pity, she decided as they swayed in time and George crooned about getting away from the crowd. The hem of Ewan’s kilt tickled Molly’s knees and as his hands slipped lower to her bottom and he pressed against her, Molly realised he wasn’t that pissed and that he obviously didn’t think she was harmless.

      There was hope, more hope than there had ever been, that this year would be a new start for her. Maybe a new start for Sarah too … They both deserved it and at this moment, in the first hour of the New Year, anything and everything was possible.

      Ewan pulled her a little tighter and Molly made no attempt to resist. She rested her cheek on his highland shirt, and the laces tickled her nose. George started wailing about giving his heart to someone nameless and non-gender-specific. Molly knew how George felt. Ewan was now in possession of her heart too, in the metaphorical sense, of course, but it was also trying to escape from her chest.

      His arms tightened around her back.

      She took her chance. ‘You know, Ewan, when I first joined the lab, I thought you were a bit – you know stiff?’

      He waggled his eyebrows. ‘Stiff?’

      ‘Whoops.’ Molly laughed, although actually, what she’d just said was probably anatomically accurate. ‘I meant uptight.’

      Ewan frowned down at her. ‘Uptight? Me? Never.’

      ‘What did you think of me then?’

      ‘You? That you were probably one of the most promising young research associates who’d applied for the job.’

      ‘Oh,’ said Molly.

      ‘And that some genetic quirk had given you the most kissable mouth I’d ever seen.’

      ‘Ah.’ Just as George was moaning that his cold-hearted ex didn’t recognise him, Ewan lowered his face to hers and went for a full-on snog. His eyes were closed so she did the same. His stubbly chin rasped against her skin, his lips tasted of Greene King’s finest. The synthesised bells of the song sounded like fireworks and a full-on symphony orchestra.

      She wasn’t sure who broke the kiss but when it ended, she whispered softly in his ear. ‘Wow.’

      ‘Ditto.’

      ‘I never expected that.’

      ‘Nor me.’ He sounded throaty and she was sure it wasn’t the start of a bacterial infection.

      ‘You know, Professor Baxter, there’s something I’ve been dying to ask you all evening.’

      ‘And?’

      ‘Just what have you got on under the kilt?’

      Ewan whispered in her ear. ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out. What have you got on under the nurse’s outfit?’

      ‘Ditto,’ said Molly, feeling like she could take off and fly out of the canteen if Ewan wasn’t kissing her again, anchoring to him while their tongues danced a reel in each other’s mouths. Not even the tinny bells at the end of George’s song could spoil the moment. Happy New Year to me, thought Molly with a blissful sigh, as Ewan’s hands rested contentedly on her bottom.

       ‘And-dd, sadly that is all, folks. Happy New Year, have a safe journey home and gooooood-nighty.’

      Molly opened her eyes and blinked as the DJ cut the music. The fluorescent lights were on and from the edge of the room there was a round of applause and some ear-splitting whistles.

      ‘Always said you’d benefit from medical attention, mate!’

      Gleeful hoots and a couple of “phwoarrs” echoed across the canteen. Molly’s face heated up and she rolled her eyes. ‘What are they like, eh?’

      ‘Quite.’

      Molly wanted to kill Ewan’s rugby mates and a few of her colleagues but decided to laugh off their banter. She could handle a few pissed geeks, and anyway, she was about to get her hands on the biggest prize of all. An image flashed through her mind that made her stomach clench with lust so tightly it hurt. Ewan’s shirt and kilt cast aside on her bedroom floor, along with his uptight façade. Ewan, stark naked, standing by her bed shouting ‘Freedommmm!’ She giggled and rested her hand on his kilt, loving the feel of scratchy wool under her fingers.

      Catcalls rang out from the side of the room. Sod them. Sod them all. Let the boozy gang say all they liked. With one hand still on his arse, she reached up and touched his hair. ‘Did you know that you now have silly string in your hair?’ she said, shaking with lust.

      ‘Do I? Oh, fuck.’ Ewan dropped his hands from her waist and reached up to pull out the strand himself. He rolled it between his fingers and lowered his voice. ‘I think the party’s over, Molly.’

      ‘Yes, but it doesn’t have to end here, does it?’

      ‘Erm. Well it is late.’

      ‘Not that late. It’s not even one o’clock yet.’

      He frowned. ‘Well, that is still quite late.’

      ‘But not very late. The night’s young.’

      Ewan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He did look tired, he’d been working very hard and they’d both had a lot to drink but surely, he wasn’t too tired for that.

      ‘Thanks for retrieving my party popper,’ she said, going for humour and hoping to refocus his mind on the task in hand.

      ‘Yes, I … um hope you won’t hold it against me. I mean, it is New Year’s Eve.’ He looked sheepish, and sexy. Sheepishly sexy. The perfect combination. Wow. How great was it going to feel when she finally unwrapped that uptight, stiff exterior …?

      ‘I had noticed. Tends to happen on December thirty-first every year,’ said Molly, plucking a stray piece of string off his shoulder. ‘And I won’t hold anything against you that you don’t want me to.’

       ‘Hey. Are you gonna pop your stirring rod into Molly’s beaker, Ewan?’

       ‘Ewan! The minibus is here, mate, but I guess you’ve found a better ride?’

       ‘Oy, Boss. Molly looks so hot in that nurse costume, she’ll denature your proteins!’