Page 55 of Thorn Season
“Trying to rip my clothes off now?” Another low roll of laughter blew across my flushed face, heat on heat. “Though you may be impatient, my lady, I suggest you start with the buttons.”
I tightened my grip, knuckles pressed against his chest. “Take one step into that chamber and I swear by all the gracious gods—”
Distant movement rustled and I inhaled sharply, a feather boa ruffling up my nose. I batted it off in a panic, mortified when my fingers caught between the buttons of Keil’s shirt.
“Almost,” he whispered, clearly entertained. He was still leaning over me, one bicep blocking my view of the door. “But next time”—he raised his free hand, latched a finger under his top button—“you actually have to unhook—”
“Your head from your shoulders?” I interrupted. “What a lovely thought.”
“I expect murdering me would be quite loud.”
“Not the way I would do it.”
“Oh?” His voice deepened, rich with teasing. “And how would you do it?”
Heeled shoes pattered on the marble and I jolted back, catching the white flash of Keil’s grin. I was considering smothering him with one of Carmen’s petticoats when I heard a clatter of drawers, then the tap of wood on wood.
My heart shot up into my throat. I’d left the dresser drawer unlocked. Had Carmen already opened it and discovered that someone had rummaged beneath the false bottom?
Holding my breath, I ducked under Keil’s bicep and peered through the gap between the closet doors. Carmen wasn’t near the dresser. If I eased my specter toward it—
Keil’s arms folded around me, pulling me flush against him. I jerked automatically, but those solid arms tightened, one hand cradling the back of my head.
“Wait,” he whispered.
A second later, darkness fell across that slice of light. A mirror stood beside the closet, I remembered. And Carmen had stopped before it. Three steps away.
One misplaced foot, one creak of wood, and she’d find us buried among her gowns.
I didn’t dare move from where Keil had tucked me against his chest, his soap-and-linen scent overwhelming Carmen’s vanilla and that odd musty-clothes smell. His heartbeat raced beneath my ear, twin to my own. And as Carmen’s train whispered over the marble, snaking closer, I squeezed my eyes shut. Pressed nearer to Keil until my crystal bodice dug into my skin.
“Easy.” He whispered the reassurance into my hair, the warmth ofhis breath licking down my bare shoulder.
His hand slipped absently to the nape of my neck.
And then my heart was slamming for all the wrong reasons.
I was suddenly too aware of my hands, trapped between our crushing bodies. Of the sharedheatrushing off us, feeding itself on our heavy breaths. My cheek pressed the ridges of those wicked shirt buttons, and now I couldn’t shatter the mental image of Keil teasing them open, revealing the muscled planes of honeyed skin beneath—
Carmen’s footsteps shifted, and we tensed against each other. Keil gathered me impossibly closer, as though he could shield me from view.
A rustle as Carmen adjusted her gown. An appreciative hum at her reflection. Then, after an unbearable eternity, her footsteps receded.
The thudding in my head quieted as the lounge door clicked shut.
“She’s gone,” Keil murmured, his voice rumbling through me.
His muscles shifted, and he slowly peeled back, one arm unfolding from around me, the other hand drifting from my nape to my spine as he eased away. Then he paused, his palm spread across the center of my back, as if unable to detach fully.
With a spike of horror, I realized my fingers were bunched in his shirt again.
He glanced toward my hands, his own tenseness melting with a slow curve of his mouth. “But we can stay a while longer, if you like.”
My cheeks blazed.
I swatted him away and crashed through the doors, stumbling around my skirts. Keil’s exit was far more composed. I turned to hide my blush—unreasonably angry at myself—and my eyes snagged on Carmen’s vanity.
The top drawer wasn’t shut all the way.
