Page 50 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

Her blue eyes widened before she looked away again, pulling at her single long, dark curl with her free hand.

She did not pull her hand from his or put distance between them.

Surprisingly, her skin warmed within his grasp.

“My children are blessed to have you as their governess.” Damon took a step closer. Payton’s willowy height made her nearly as tall as he was. “And I will be forever grateful that you came into our lives when you did.” Before it was too late, he thought.

She blushed and turned to stare at their clasped hands.

“I think your siblings are wrong to believe they know what’s best for you,” he murmured. Just as Flora had been wrong to think she knew what was best for him and his children after Sarah’s passing.

The memory of Payton, masked and elegantly gowned, losing to the duke at his gaming table pushed into Damon’s thoughts. He’d taken care of her debt, and she’d have nothing to fear from Catherton. He’d made so many mistakes over the years, but settling Payton’s gaming debts was not one of them.

That was something he would never regret.

As he looked into her deep blue eyes, her long, ebony lashes lowered, threatening to break the connection between them. Damon suspected that he might regret not releasing her hand in that moment, saying his good night, and fleeing to the solitude of his private chambers. At least if he did that, he’d have this small memory to relive without remorse of what came next.

Instead, his fingers held fast to hers, his thumb massaging a circle on her palm.

How had he never appreciated her beauty before this? Of course, he had noticed her stunning eloquence and graceful poise. How had he never observed that her floral aroma had invaded every inch of his home? How had he resigned himself to such a desolate future without considering all he’d be missing?

She nibbled at her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth.

Their thoughts—and longings—seemed to align, and she took the final step toward him, bring her soft, delicate body against his rigidly tense chest.

Damon knew he should pull back, put distance between them, apologize for his ungentlemanly behavior; however, the simple comfort of her against him had the tension draining from him. It was as if he’d taken a deep breath four years ago and held it until he could do nothing but focus on the burning within him.

The raging fire he held inside was suddenly not so unbearable.

For once, he wanted to surrender to the flames, not extinguish them.

In her eyes, he saw certainty, a confidence that had fled him years before. No longer did she glance away in doubt. She held his stare as if they were both in a raft, adrift in a sea that threatened to rip them from safety and send them both tossing and turning into the midnight waters.

“I want to be ripped away,” he sighed.

She tilted her head to the side, and her tongue darted across her plump lower lip.

Her eyes closed before she lifted the mere few inches to press her lips to his. Damon yielded to her, allowed her control. And bloody hell, it was everything he needed. Her soft, insistent, rhythmic kiss set the pace, allowing Damon to revel in the feeling of her pressed against him, the heat of her mouth covering his, the security of her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

The years of pain, guilt, and remorse within him broke, shattered, and he sensed the pieces within him fusing back together, creating a deep longing, a desire, the unmistakable need to hold Payton close and not let go.

Not fail her.

In this moment, and the many to come.

A groan escaped him as her fingers tightened on his shoulders, digging into his coat.

Damon brought his hand to her cheek, his fingers trailing down her neck as she inhaled sharply.

He thought she’d pull away, but instead, she pushed close to him, her slender body fitting perfectly against his.

Intoxicating need gathered at his manhood, the rigid length hardening until pain shot into his stomach. He hadn’t experienced such heady desire since…

Much like an ocean of water extinguishing a single flame, Damon’s hands dropped to his sides, and he stepped away from Payton. Cold air rushed between them, smothering the final remnants of their brief but fiery passion.

What was he doing?

Miss Samuels was his children’s governess. His heart, all his desires, belonged to Sarah—and no one could replace her.