"We can't," Victoria gasped, even as her body pressed closer.
"I know." Sasha's hands found Victoria's dress buttons. "Terrible idea. Completely inappropriate."
"Someone could find us."
"Probably will." Sasha's mouth moved to her neck. "Should definitely stop."
"Definitely," Victoria agreed, then tilted her head for better access. Christ, she was going to miss this.
Voices in the corridor saved them from complete impropriety. Victoria sprang away just as Mrs. Henderson's voice called through the wood.
"Miss Victoria? Miss Sasha? Are you quite alright?"
"Fine!" Victoria called, voice only slightly strangled. "Just taking inventory."
They emerged with as much dignity as they could muster, though Victoria was certain her hair was a disaster and Sasha's lipstick had migrated.
THE NEXT TWO hours passed in a blur of near-misses and stolen moments. A touch of hands while passing drinks. A brush of shoulders in the crowded drawing room. A heated look across the terrace that made Victoria forget how to breathe.
When the dancing began, Victoria tried to maintain a safe distance, partnering with Lord Ashworth for a sedate waltz while Sasha danced with Ambrose. But the evening was warm, and after several dances, she slipped away toward the stables for air and space to think.
The job offer felt heavy in her pocket, like a weight she couldn't ignore. She should tell Sasha. Should explain that she'd be leaving, that this was ending whether they wanted it to or not.
But she couldn't bring herself to say the words.
She was leaning against the stable wall, staring up at the stars and trying to organize her thoughts, when footsteps approached.
"Hiding?" Sasha's voice was soft in the darkness.
"Getting air." Victoria didn't turn around. "It's rather warm inside."
"It is." Sasha moved to stand beside her, close enough that Victoria could feel her presence like heat. "Lovely evening though. Your mother's outdone herself."
"She has."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the distant sound of music and laughter from the party.
"Victoria," Sasha said quietly. "About what happened in the pantry—"
Victoria turned, and whatever Sasha had been about to say was lost as their eyes met. The air between them crackled with tension, with days of careful distance and professional smiles and the sort of want that made rational thought impossible.
"We should go back," Victoria said, but she was already moving closer.
"We should," Sasha agreed, reaching up to touch Victoria's face.
The kiss was inevitable, desperate, full of everything they hadn't been able to say. Victoria pressed Sasha back against the stable wall, her hands finding the curve of her waist, the soft skin of her neck. Sasha made a sound that went straight to Victoria's core, her fingers threading through Victoria's hair.
"Someone will see," Sasha gasped when Victoria's mouth moved to her throat.
"Don't care," Victoria murmured against her skin, though she did care, distantly, about propriety and reputation and all the things that should matter.
"Victoria—"
"Shh." Victoria's hands found the hem of Sasha's dress, sliding underneath to touch warm thigh. "Just… don't think. For once in our lives, don't think."
Sasha arched against her, and Victoria was drowning in sensation, in the scent of her skin and the sound of her breathing and the way she whispered Victoria's name like a prayer.
Then, cutting through the haze of desire like a cold shower, came the sound of voices approaching. Victoria jerked away from Sasha, both of them breathing hard in the darkness.
