“I want to marry you.” But she was shaking her head.
“No.”
“Dash it all, don’t you realize that—”
“I’m going to be a dancer.” She straightened her shoulders. “At the very least, I intend to find employment in a theatre.”
She was not going to work in a theatre. And if there was any dancing to be done, it would be in the privacy of their bedchamber.
“Chaswick won’t stand for it.” He scowled. “I won’t stand for it.”
And then she shushed him. “Live in this moment,” she said. “The very sad trouble with being born with so much responsibility is that you never have a chance to appreciate the simple joys.”
“I appreciate them.” Greys stared into her eyes even as his mind raced to solve all the problems he would surely face tomorrow. “I appreciate the joys.”
“Tell me. What are you appreciating right now?”
Unexpected warmth ebbed around his heart, and he spoke without thinking. “That you are here.”
Her eyes shined a little brighter. “What else?” she pressed.
Greys forced himself to focus on what she was asking. Focus on this minute—this second. He touched her cheek and then cradled it. “This face.” Because no one had ever looked at him the way that she did. “This mouth.” He smoothed his fingertips over her lips. No one had ever talked to him the way she did—irreverently—freely.
She parted her lips and grasped his finger between her teeth. Gazing into his eyes, she then closed her mouth around it. The sensation of wet velvety tugging enflamed the instinctive need he’d already been fighting to keep at bay. Greys slid his finger along the back of her teeth, steeling himself.
Because his cock, throbbing now, was painfully hard.
He’d gone too far already. He should wait. If he had even one shred of honor left, he’d do that for her—for them.
This need. It was violent. Pervasive.
“Shhh…” she said.
“I’m not talking.” He allowed his hand to drop from her mouth and stared at her innocently.
“You are thinking very loudly. Too much thinking.” Her eyes had the endearing ability to smile as much as her lips. A tidal wave of affection washed over him, catapulting him into a place where nothing mattered but her. Not his parents, not his ancestors, not even the planets and the stars.
Only her.
“Very well.” He pulled her mouth across to meet his, and she kissed him even more eagerly than she had earlier. Greys moved to the edge of his chair, sliding her off the desk and onto his lap.
“What happens when two stars run into one another?” Her eyes widened as she asked.
He couldn’t help but grin back at such a question. “I’m not sure.”
“Has it ever happened?” She went back to kissing him, nipping the corners of his mouth, a leisurely exploration.
Greys didn’t stand a chance at resisting this—not with her pressing her body against his even as she asked him questions about the universe.
“I do believe, Diana, that you have capitulated all my defenses.” He’d untied the ribbon of one braid and was threading his fingers through the long silky strands. He’d admired the magical color of her hair for as long as he’d known her.
“Finally.” She whispered. “Can two suns exist together?”
““I suppose it’s possible, in a binary system.” But he’d never read of such a thing in any of William Herschel’s writings.
“Binary, you mean two stars?” Diana’s hands had worked their way under the collar of his shirt where she rubbed and kneaded his tendons.
“They orbit one another.” Greys held her thighs down, needing her heat, her friction.
