Page 18 of Winter's Waltz
He gritted his teeth to stave off a fresh wave of longing and attempted to resituate her so that she would not feel the effect she was having upon him. “You may trip me any time you like, Miss Winter. Just as long as you promise to fall into me.”
Her lips parted. She wriggled against him, and the friction over his burgeoning erection had him biting his inner cheek to keep from groaning. It also made his state apparent to her. He knew it the moment her eyes widened and she ceased all movement.
More heat engulfed him.
He could not recall ever experiencing an attraction this strong, this deep. It should be absurd. He should not want her so much. And yet, he could no more extinguish the feelings roaring through him than he could expunge the sun from the sky. It was that bold, that bright, that necessary.
But just when he thought he saw her softening, her head dipping nearer, her mouth closer to his, she pushed away from him.
“Thank you for the lesson, Marquess.”
“Miss Winter—”
She scrambled away from him as if he were fashioned of flame. “My ledgers are waiting.”
Damn it.
He sat up, rueful. “Miss Winter, if you please…”
His words trailed off. She was already flitting over the threshold as if their entire encounter had never been. The persistent ache within him told a different story.
He wanted Genevieve Winter.
But could he have her? That was the question.
