Stephen follows, his steps unhurried, confident. Infuriating.
When we’re far enough from the dining room, I grab his hand—not because I want to, but because if I don’t drag him, he’ll take his merry time on purpose. His palm is warm, solid, too familiar.
We step out of the room and into a long, softly lit hallway, lined with framed posters of past charity events. The door closes behind us with a soft thud.
Silence.
Heavy.
Loaded.
I drop his hand immediately and whirl toward him. “What was that? Back there?”
He watches me with a slow, predatory calm that makes my pulse trip. Damn him for making me want him without even trying. I don’t know what pull he has over me, but this can’t end well.
“Me trying to figure out if you’re running from yourself or from me.”
“That’s not fair, and you know it. We hardly suit; our families couldn’t be more opposite. If we end it now, no one gets hurt.”
“So we’re pleasing everyone else but ourselves,” he counters, voice low. “Sounds pretty shit to me.”
“No, it’s for the best.” I know I’m trying to convince myself, but all I want is him. The war within me is nothing I’ve ever known, nor do I know how to navigate my conflicted thoughts.
“Maybe it is.” He steps closer. “Or maybe I’m just not letting our families decide what happens between us.”
“Stephen—”
He stops right in front of me. Too close. Too much. “I’m not walking away from you,” he says quietly. “Even if you think you should walk away from me.”
I inhale sharply, my chest tight with panic and longing. I don’t know how to separate. “Stephen…” My voice trembles. “Don’t do this.”
He sinks slowly—deliberately—down onto his knees.
Right here.
In front of me.
In the quiet, empty hall.
My breath shatters, and the world tilts. “Get up,” I order.
He shakes his head. “No.”
THIRTEEN
STEPHEN
I don’t givea fuck who may catch us, all I care about at this moment is making Dallen remember who we are and what we’re starting to mean to each other. There is something special—I canfeelit whenever I’m around her—and nothing, not her high-and-mighty mother or her law-abiding father will change that.
I lift her gown. She’s so utterly beautiful this evening that my chest hurts. I kiss along her leg, feeling her tremble under my touch. Her fingers glide into my hair. I expect her to push me away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she holds me against her. The distant hum of the ballroom filters down the hallway, muffled applause and clinking glasses echoing faintly. She leans back against the wall, and I know she’s mine.
Mine to fucking eat.
I reach under her gown and pull her panties down. They settle at her ankles, and she lifts one foot to free herself from them. “Put your leg on my shoulder, Pumpkin.”
She doesn’t argue. Instead she watches me while she does as I tell her.
Good girl…
