Damien stepped closer again, the movement unhurried and deliberate. He did not touch her.
Do I want him to?
The warmth of his presence seemed to reach her all the same. It was close enough to be distracting and far too close for comfort. Her pulse betrayed her by quickening at once. Seraphine disliked that reaction immensely.
“I needed your help,” she said quietly, “Nothing more than that.”
Something changed in his eyes at those words. She could not identify it, but she felt it all the same.
“Nothing more?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he studied her face. His voice became thick with desire.
“No,” she whispered. His gaze lingered upon her for an uncomfortable moment. The silence stretched between them.
“You blush,” he said.
“I do not,” Seraphine replied, refusing to give him the satisfaction, even though she could feel the heat warming her cheeks.
She glared at him with all the severity she could muster. He merely smirked in response. The insufferable man seemed immune to intimidation. Without either of them consciously intending it, the distance between them vanished further. Perhaps he had moved closer. Perhaps she had failed to retreat.
Either way, extraordinarily little space remained between them now. His broad shoulders blocked the doorway behind him.
“You are drunk, please move,” she said, lifting her chin as she met his gaze.
“And if I do not?” Damien replied calmly, making no effort whatsoever to comply.
“Damien…” she whispered, exasperation creeping into her voice. Hearing his name on her lips seemed to affect him. His eyes darkened slightly. Something in her stomach tightened.
“When you say my name…” he said.
She said nothing. She could not muster the words.
“Seraphine…” he continued, speaking her name with softness. The way he said it felt unfair.
Entirely unfair. It sounds far too intimate for a simple exchange.
She wished he would stop doing that. Unfortunately, she rather suspected he knew exactly what effect it had.
“You're impossible,” she informed him, folding her arms.
“So I've been told,” Damien replied. “Frequently.”
We are standing too closely. What if someone sees us?
She attempted to step around him and escape the conversation. Damien shifted immediately, blocking her path once more.
“Your Grace, please…” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
“Please what, sweetheart?” he replied, entirely too pleased with himself. The endearment should have irritated her. Instead, it did something much worse.
Her heart skipped in a way she found deeply inconvenient. Annoying did not begin to describe it. Very annoying was perhaps closer to the truth. She wished her body would behave sensibly for once. Unfortunately, it appeared determined to betray her. Damien seemed to notice every reaction.
“You… You are standing in my way,” she pointed out, gesturing toward the doorway behind him. “I wish to leave,” she said firmly.
“Do you? Because I do not think you do. Your lips… they tremble. They ache to be kissed,” he said. His eyes locked on her lips.
She gasped. He studied her face far too closely. The air seemed charged. The sounds of the ballroom faded into distant background noise. All she could see was him standing before her. The sharp line of his jaw drew her attention despite herself. His green eyes remained fixed upon her.
The faint shadow of stubble along his jaw only made matters worse. Her pulse fluttered again beneath his gaze. She hated that reaction. She hated how aware she was of him. She hated how difficult it had become to look away.
