Her breath comes in quick, ragged gasps, mirroring my own. Her pulse pounds against my chest, its rhythm matching mine.
Our bodies meld, and my hands roam her back, sides, hips, reacquainting myself with every curve and line. Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging, urging me closer, deeper into the kiss.
I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue, slow and deliberate, savoring the soft gasp that escapes her as she opens to me. Her taste floods my senses—sweet like champagne, uniquely Vivianne.
It's a taste that has haunted my dreams, and now that I have it again, I'm consumed by hunger for more. Our tongues meet, each stroke sparking a fire that burns hotter within me.
My hands drift from her hair, tracing the contours of her shoulders, her back, before settling on her hips. I pull her closer, and she melts into me with a soft moan that nearly undoes me.
I'm painfully aware of my body's response to her, the throbbing ache that grows more insistent with each passing second. I want her right here, right now, amidst the glitz and glamour of the gala. Instead, I channel my desire into our kiss, into the way my hands roam her body, memorizing every curve.
Her hips press against mine, a subtle, tantalizing movement that sends shockwaves through me. I can feel her need matching my own, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to give in to the primal urge to take her right here.
I trail kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat, reveling in the little sounds of pleasure that escape her lips.
For a blissful eternity, nothing exists but this—the taste of her, the feel of her body pressed against mine. The world outside fades away, narrowing down to just us, just this moment.
But reality intrudes all too soon. The distant sound of laughter reminds us where we are and the danger we're in.
Reluctantly, I break the kiss, resting my forehead against hers as we both struggle to catch our breath. We cling to eachother, frantically making up for lost time. Her tears mingle with the salt on our skin, erased by fervent kisses. Vows are silently made and received, promises of forever sealed in fleeting touches.
"We don't have much time." Though every fiber of my being rebels against letting her go.
"Then let's make it count." Her fingers trace the line of my jaw.
"We need to talk about the painting."
"I saw the necklace."
"Yes, in the painting. That's what I want to talk about."
"Not in the painting. I saw the real necklace."
I freeze. "You saw—Where? How?"
She glances nervously at the door. "My father has it. In a vault beneath our house. Paul, there's so much down there—paintings, jewels, things I never knew existed."
I struggle to process this information. The necklace, after all these years...
"Vivianne, that necklace—it's more important than you know."
"Tell me."
"It's a long story. One, I promise to tell you in full, but for now, you need to know this—that necklace was given to your grandmother by Merlin for safekeeping just before World War II. It was stolen when she married your grandfather."
The color drains from her face. "My grandfather? But that would mean?—"
"Viv? Where the hell has that girl gotten to?" Her father's voice slices through the air, sharp and grating. It carries an edge that leaves the room tense in its wake—abrasive, demanding attention whether you want to give it or not.
Vivianne's eyes widen. Her hand flies to her mouth, stifling a gasp.
"Paul, you have to go. Now." The words are barely audible.
I nod, understanding the urgency. We both know what's at stake if we're caught together. Vivianne's gaze darts to the door, then back to me. She takes a half-step toward me as if pulled by an invisible thread before jerking back.
I gesture toward a second exit I scouted earlier.
Vivianne squares her shoulders, composing herself with visible effort. She smooths her dress, fingers trembling slightly as they brush over the fabric. With one last longing look at me, she turns to the door.
