I take her hand in mine, spinning her back into my embrace, determined to rise to her unspoken challenge. I will not let her see how the feel of her hand on my chest makes my heart jump. “I have always been a quick study, my lady.”
“The tango is a dance of passion, and a dance of control.” She presses her back to my front, sliding down my body slowly, her hands dragging over my thighs. Her grip on my legs is nothing short of tactical warfare. “Are you confident in your abilities on the dance floor, Your Highness?”
She’s goading me and given the position of her hands at the moment, she knows the effect her body is having on mine.
I grasp her wrists, twirling her once before gently yanking her back to standing, noting her surprised gasp with just a hint of pride. While I have her in my control, I tug her closer, draping her arms over my shoulders, watching those golden eyes for any hint she is as affected by the closeness as much as I am.
She hides it well, but it’s there. The flicker in her gaze, the catch in her breath.
It’s a victory. And a reminder. I must keep my guard up; I must remain focused on the task at hand.
Her fingers tease the curls at the nape of my neck. She shifts her hips and a wicked smile pulls on her lips when she feels me, the hardness brought on by this erotic movement we’re spinning across the floor. Her hands slide down my chest, to my waist.
I’m drunk on her, drunk on whatever this is between us. Her citrus scent and her closeness and the feel of her body beneath my hands. If her fingers moved lower, I wouldn’t stop them. She’spulled me under her spell with nothing but a few spins and turns, a few measly minutes of conversation. Maybe I really am as weak as my father and sister have suggested.
The song ends and silence scratches across the room.
The breath returns to my lungs like I’ve been swimming under water and finally broke through to the surface.
I put a few steps of space between us, remembering Dom’s warning and what I absolutely cannot let happen in this room. Remembering who Lady Caterine is and what she stands for. Remembering what she has the power to do, and why I can’t let her get too close. Chances are she’s already exerting that power, and I’m letting her. It’s the only explanation for the urge I have to touch her, take her, make her mine.
She’s breathing heavily too, her chest rising and falling like it’s fighting to burst free from her corset. I can’t look away. “Not bad for your first try.” She turns away from me, starting the music from the beginning. “Let’s go again.”
It feels like another challenge, and I don’t know why but I can’t let her win. I chalk it up to the fact that if I am going to ever ask her for what I truly need from her, she needs to not only trust me but also respect me.
But only a fool would believe my actions in this suite have anything to do with the greater mission. All I see is her.
And so I pull her into my arms, leading her in the steps, our bodies pressed together until the room is hazy with sweat and wanting, until I feel almost frantic with needing her.
After our fourth tango, Caterine pulls away from me before the final note has flourished, heading straight for the bar. She pours herself a half-full glass of whisky and downs the whole thing in one gulp.
“Are you all right, my lady?” I try to keep the smugness out ofmy voice, but I don’t try very hard. Whatever this undefined game is that we’re playing, I’ve won.
“Fine,” she says sharply. “I think that’s enough for this evening.”
“Not even going to offer me a drink?” The balance between us seems to have shifted, and I can’t lie—I’m enjoying seeing her caught off guard.
She turns away from me, tension visible in the set of her shoulders. It takes a minute, but her stance softens and when she spins back around, it’s like I’m being greeted by a different person, her mask smoothly settling into place.
“My apologies. Pick your poison, Your Highness.”
“Whisky, my lady.”
She pours the drink and hands it to me. Our fingers brush, and the spark makes her grimace, but she hides it.
We clink glasses and sip, and she watches me from underneath her thick lashes.
“Where did you learn to dance like that?” She sidles closer to me, never dropping eye contact.
I swirl the whisky in my glass, focusing on the golden-brown liquor so I don’t drown in her eyes. “I took many dance lessons when I was younger. All part of the required training for the next in line for the throne.”
She arches one eyebrow but holds back the sarcastic retort I can read in her eyes. “What do you hope for the future? What are your goals, Your Highness? Now that you’re no longer in line for the throne.”
Between the alcohol and her eyes and the feel of her body underneath my hands, I forget myself and give her another honest answer. “I think I could have been a good leader, my lady. Could be still. I’m sure you have many preconceived notions about me, based on who I am and where I come from, but I want to help people. I careabout creating a society that is more equal than the one we are currently living in.”
She sucks in a breath, and I realize immediately the mistake I’ve made, the possible future I might have just hinted at. Lady Caterine doesn’t know my father wants me to kill him. It would be dangerous for anyone to have insight into our plans.
Suddenly the entire evening feels like a mistake. I’m opening myself, breaking down walls I don’t break down for anyone, and all for a Gifted who has the ability to manipulate emotions. Dom said her Gift can only be used when finding sexual release, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe Lady Caterine is nudging into my brain as we speak. It’s the only explanation, really, as to why I can’t shield myself from her.
