Page 40 of Watch Me Burn
“See?” I guide her through a simple turn. “Not terrible at all.”
Her lips quirk up at the corners. “That’s your expertise talking. I’m just trying not to maim you.”
A sound escapes me, something between amusement and disbelief. When was the last time someone made me smile at one of these events?
“You could step on both my feet, and I wouldn’t care.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
We drift together across the floor, her body molding to mine like she belongs there. Heat radiates from every point where we touch—my palm against her back, our fingers intertwined, the whisper of space between her chest and mine. The urge to close that distance claws at me. I want to crush her against me until I can feel her heart hammering against my own and press my face into the curve of her neck where her perfume mingles with something uniquely her. I want to wrap myself in her until she’s all that remains, until everything else fades into nothing.
But I can’t. Not here. Not now.
Even as I tell myself that, I pull her closer. My hand spreads wider across her back, feeling every breath she takes.
“Thank you for bringing me tonight.” Her voice flows between us, soft and private. “I can tell these events aren’t your thing, but what you’re doing for animals… it matters, Damien. It really does.”
“You know what matters?”
“What?”
“This. How good you feel in my arms.” The confession tumbles out unfiltered. “How right this feels.”
She stumbles. Just a small misstep, but I catch her, steadying her against me. Her face flames red. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“Why not?” I dip my head until my lips brush her temple. “It’s true.”
Her fingers curl into my jacket, gripping the fabric. “Because you make it very hard to remember this is just...”
“Just what?” I prompt when she trails off.
She looks up at me, conflict written across her features. “I don’t know anymore.”
“Good.” I hold her gaze with mine. “Because I stopped knowing the moment I met you.”
I’m moving before I can think better of it. The space between us vanishes, inch by inch, until her breath ghosts across my lips. Warm. Sweet. My pulse pounds in my ears.
I need to taste her again. The need claws through me, sharper than hunger, more vital than air.
“Luna.” Her name escapes, hoarse and desperate.
She lifts her face to mine, and the light catches in her eyes, hazel depths flecked with gold and green—open, trusting, and so beautiful the rest of the ballroom fades into meaningless noise. At this moment, she’s the only real thing in my world. Everything I want and everything I fear I’m destined to lose. The ground shifts beneath my feet, and I’m falling, not gracefully, not with control, but like a man stepping off the edge of the world.
I press my lips to hers, the softest touch, designed to look innocent to any casual observer, but the moment our mouths connect, lightning shoots through my bloodstream and scrambles every coherent thought. The careful control I’ve built crumbles to ash.
Her sharp intake of breath vibrates against my mouth, and that tiny sound shoots straight to my cock. I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from making a sound that would scandalize half the room.
She draws back a fraction, her brows pulling together in the way they do when she’s thinking too hard.
“Should you be doing that here? In public?”
“Why not?”
My arm tightens around her waist, drawing her against me until there’s no question of distance, no pretense of casual affection. The logical part of my brain that governs these situations has gone silent. All that remains is the need to mark her as mine in front of every damn person in this room.
“Because you don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us.”
“And what idea is that? That you’re my date and you’re beautiful and I—”
