“Mirabel,” she corrected primly.
“Mira,” he said again, enjoying their verbal swordplay.
They hovered on the edge of something more.
Something wondrous.
“You are a stubborn man, Mr. Winter.”
He nodded. “I’ll not deny it. You may call me Demon if you like.”
“You do not look like a demon,” she said softly. “’Tis far too harsh a name for a man as…”
Once more, her words trailed off. But he wanted them. Wanted them as much as he wanted her.
“A man as…” he prodded.
“A man as beautiful as you,” she whispered.
Victory.
The surge of desire within him was potent and instant.
“Damian,” he found himself telling her.
Why, he could not say. He had not used his given name since he’d been a lad of Davy’s age.
“Damian,” she repeated.
Christ, his name in her voice. It was a thing of beauty. Mesmerizing.
He was about to break a rule, and he did not give a damn.
Demon tugged lightly at her silken mask. “I want to see your face.”
She stilled.
For a moment, he feared she would deny him. Until she reached up, her gloved fingers plucking at the knot holding her mask in place. She whisked the scrap of silk away, casting it to the floor. He reeled at what she revealed.
She was more gorgeous than he had imagined. Bright, wide eyes, high cheekbones, heart-shaped face, full, pink mouth, dainty nose with freckles dancing down the bridge. She stole his breath.
He felt the force of his attraction to her all the way down his body, in his bloody knees.
“Kiss me, Damian.”
He could do nothing but obey.
* * *
Her first true kiss,and she had chosen this man.
Damian Winter, gorgeous sinner, altogether unsuitable, brazen and charming and everything she should not want. She had told him her name. Had removed her mask. Had asked him to kiss her. How odd, she thought as his lips moved masterfully over hers that such a tepid, monosyllabic word should be used to describe such incredible, aching fulfillment.
It seemed the center of her body was suddenly her mouth and all the places where they touched. His lips on hers, his hands cupping her face, her palms on his broad chest, a wall of muscled strength. Oh, he was more dangerous than she had supposed.
He had the ability to make her forget everything but him. All the reasons why her anonymity was to remain paramount, the furious desire to maintain her reputation, to protect her children and Octavia, dissipated. She had given him her name, but she wanted to give him far more.
She wanted to give himeverything.
