“What?” she gaped. “How is that any of your business?”
“Are you?”
“No,” she said defensively. “I—I don’t know. It is too early to tell. Why does it matter at all? We are not getting… involved.”
“Aren’t we?” he murmured, reaching out for her and pulling her closer. With both hands, he brushed the twists of loose curls that fell on either side of her jaw. Pulse thudding, he rolled his thumbs over her cheekbones, then tilted her head up.
Slowly, he traced his hands from her face down over her hip to the small of her back, pressed her closer than any legitimate waltz would allow until they were flush chest to hip. Silently, he moved his other palm up to capture her hand. “I told you, this waltz is mine. Let us dance, and after we are finished, maybe you will change your mind.”
“There is no music,” she said softly.
“Matters not,” he replied, stepping back. “We shall make our own.”
From the first step of the waltz, she followed his lead without a falter. The heat of their bodies surrounded them, as did the mingled scents of heady perfumes from the flowers. The clouds above shifted, and the night sky blazed with stars, while her breasts pressed tight against his chest.
“This is scandalous,” she whispered as he spun them.
“I know,” his grin was unrepentant. “I prefer it this way.”
After a few steps, he decided to do something drastic to remove the apprehension in her eyes; bracing a hand on her back, he tilted back and lifted her off her feet, then took in a round of dizzying turns—and her breathless laugh rippled over his senses as she gripped his shoulder.
“That’s better,” he brushed his lips across her cheek.
The infectious sound warmed his chest, and when he set her back on her feet, she glowed with a youthful, dazzling energy. As they danced, he could not take his eyes off her.
“You are breathtaking,” he held her around another music-less turn.
“Thank you,” she replied. “But aside from you being a rake, I know nothing about you… though you do remind me of someone.”
“You could ask if you want,” he invited her, as his steps slowed.
Her gaze was steady, but by increments, her pupils expanded. A breath rushed out, and before she could draw in the next, he kissed her. It was no more than a flutter of butterfly wings, but it still rocked right through his body.
Her words were a whisper. “A gentleman would have asked first, but you are no gentleman… are you?”
“Depends on what your definition of a gentleman is,” he replied, his eyes coasting over her face and fighting the sense of familiarity. “May I kiss you, properly this time?”
She gave him the tiniest nod, and when her lips parted, he swept his tongue through her mouth, as he strangled the almost ungovernable need rising within her. His tongue slid against hers, and a molten wave washed through him at her soft moan.
The kiss tangled, growing hotter and hotter, and before he hoisted her upon a balustrade to feast on her, he left her lips to suckle her earlobe, to lick his way down her neck.
He fixed his mouth over a patch of skin beneath her ear, then licked and sucked gently, then with too much passion. A cry left her throat, helpless, as she arched against his mouth and buried her fingers in his hair.
Deciding to leave a mark on her skin, he mistook the tugs on his hair for passion, but when he realized she was pulling him away, he jerked his head back instantly.
Her bosom was rising and falling at an accelerated rate, an aroused blush made her face rosy, and her lips were already looking kiss-swollen. Staying in place, he waited as she lifted her hands between his, grasped his mask, then gently lifted it off his face.
The moment her eyes latched onto his face, they filled with fear and she stumbled back. “It's… it’s you!”
What does that mean?
“Me?” he echoed. “What do you—"
“Stop, please—” she swallowed. “I need to leave.”
A hollow echo or a church bell rang midnight as she spun on her heel and lurched away—but not before his fingers slipped underthe thin links of her necklace, causing it to snap as she darted away, leaving the necklace dangling from his fingers.
Standing still as she disappeared around the corner, his hand closed over the soft oval locket at the end. “She is not versed in kissing is she…” he murmured, “… and tastes like…innocence.”
