Page 139 of Winds of Ruin
To keep from melting into him, I grabbed his forearm. His warmth, his breath, his scent—they drew me in.
He couldn’t beat me at this game. I thrived off other people’s reactions. It was rare for anyone to elicit one from me.
Holding him there, I stood on my tiptoes and responded, “If the gown is distracting you, then do something about it.”
I let the front of my body drag down him as I righted myself.
Too much fabric. Torture.
“Oh, I’ll be dreaming about that, too,” he sparred back with smug delight written all over his too-handsome face. “Is this what you had in mind?”
My mouth hung open. I stood dumbfounded as he retreated and straightened his collar.
“What?” I bumbled out the word, not catching his meaning.
“Isthathow I should go speak with the noble ladies—flatter them? Proposition them? Was I rusty, Elsedora?”
The way he said my name sounded like summer honey. I’d lick it straight off a spoon.
“Well... yes,” I said. But also,absolutely not.
“Last chance to stop me,” he said as he retreated toward the crowd of dancing bodies.
I let my gaze trail over him, imagining the chiseled nature of every muscle on his abdomen. A vision of the way his whole body had tensed when he found release plagued me.
Come here.I fought the urge to blurt out the demand.
He should go.
“You know, it’s nice,” he said, taking another step back.
“What is?” I breathed out.
“Seeing you turn to putty in my hands for a change.”
Straightening my shoulders, I faked a scoff.
The blood coursing through my veins was aflame.
“That wasverygood, pet. You almost had me,” I lied. He could have me on the floor in front of all these people.
I leaned into the gaudy wallpapered alcove behind me, mostly because balance in my heeled shoes grew futile. “Go on then. Woo them all.”
He shook his head and made a tsking sound in response. After he turned to greet a group of nobles, a hand fell on mine and slipped something between my fingers. A key.
Familiar floral perfume overwhelmed my senses, dragging me out of the intoxicating fog of Emmerick’s fresh scent of rosemary.
Leonna pressed a kiss to my cheek before she slid in beside me, hip to hip.
“That is so you can get into the house later,” she said. “I’ve missed our little talks.”
I flipped the skeleton key between my fingers and glanced over at the brunette. She wore a flattering red gown and struck me with the warmest, most welcoming deep-brown stare. Full lips. I certainly had a type.
She was exquisite—but not who I wanted.
“I have too,” I said. It wasn’t quite a lie.
Yet so much had changed since the days I’d frequented her establishment.
