“Charlotte,” he breathed between kisses, as though tasting her name.
This kiss was heat and hunger and danger wrapped into one devastatingly handsome duke.
Her knees weakened beneath her, and Victor seemed to notice at once.
He gave a smug little smile against her lips that made her want to strike him and kiss him again simultaneously. “There she is,”he murmured. “I was beginning to think you only existed to argue with me.”
Charlotte glared weakly at him despite the way her heart thundered. “You are insufferable,” she whispered.
“And yet you continue letting me kiss you.” His hand slid upward along her spine, slow and possessive.
“Call me by my name.”
Charlotte blinked up at him in confusion, her lips swollen and tingling.
Victor lowered his forehead to hers and whispered, “I want to taste my name on your lips.”
The intimacy of the request sent heat rushing through her entire body. His thumb brushed her lower lip as he watched her with maddening patience.
“Victor,” she whispered shakily.
A dark look of satisfaction crossed his face. “Again.”
“Victor,” she repeated, softer this time, and he captured his name as he pressed his lips against hers.
He kissed her harder than before, as though her voice had undone the last thread of restraint holding him together.
Charlotte gasped softly against his mouth when he suddenly lifted her clean off the floor. “Victor!” she squeaked in surprise, clutching his shoulders as he carried her toward one of the large tables near the center of the library.
“You sound lovely saying my name,” he said lazily.
“You are impossible,” she breathed.
“And you are trembling.” His smirk deepened as he sat her carefully upon the polished table. “Now tell me, Miss Brown, are you frightened?”
Charlotte wanted desperately to say yes, for she had never been alone with a man at a ball in such a manner. Yet the truth was infinitely worse. “No,” she admitted quietly.
Victor’s expression darkened with satisfaction. “Good.”
His hands slid slowly to the back of her neck, and Charlotte shivered when his fingers began touching her bare skin.
She let out the smallest startled breath at the sensation. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “Touching you, the way you ought to be touched,” he replied simply.
Charlotte nearly expired from mortification at the compliment alone. He kissed her neck and shoulders, pressing firmly enough to make warmth spread through her entire body.
“Is this too much?” he asked quietly near her ear.
“N-no.”
“No?” he teased softly. “You sound unconvinced.”
“It is fine,” she insisted, though her voice came out breathless.
Victor chuckled low in his throat. “You are adorable when flustered.”
Charlotte would have retorted if his hands had not moved lower, easing along her chest with maddening slowness. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of her gown and made her skin feel feverish beneath it as his thumbs brushed against her rosy peaks.
She became acutely aware of every place his fingers touched her, every shift of his body between her knees as he stood before the table. Her thoughts tangled helplessly together until all she could focus on was him.
