Page 126 of A Dance of Lies

I nod, but it does little to ease my anxiety.

Placing his book down, he rises and strides toward me. My stomach swoops, and I find myself blurting, “I—I am not a thing to be used.”

Tenderly, he cradles my jaw with his hands and leans his forehead against mine.

“You are not,” he whispers.

His thumbs are smooth as they graze my cheeks—as if he can sense the war inside me.

And when his nose brushes mine, I can do little more than inhale him for long moments. I want to close out the world. Forget who he is, yet again. And here, sharing breath, I almost can. His scent fills my lungs—a welcome. A warning.

My hands move without my consent, wrapping around his waist.

I lean my head against his heart, feeling the way it beats. Races.

For me.

He cups my head, bringing my gaze back to his, and something about the gesture is irrevocably tender. A need shivers through me—one I don’t even fully understand.

“May I kiss you for real this time, Minnow?” he whispers, tucking a spiral of hair behind my ear with his free hand.

We shouldn’t,I think.

Please,I think.

I twist my hands into his tunic and nod, only when I glance up, he doesn’t move.

“Well?” I prompt, at last.

“I’m not going to do it when you’reexpectingit.”

“Menace,” I say. I yank him toward me—

He presses his lips onto mine.

If there was a game between us, it vanishes. I tug him closer, as if I could burrow inside him, and then he’s challenging my force with his own, his other hand pressing against the small of my back. And all I can think of is desire. Desire, to be closer, to—

His arms come underneath me, and then he’s sweeping inside, situating me on the dresser beside the door. His hands grip it on either side of my legs.

I feel so small, so engulfed. Liquid, from my head to my toes.

My eyes fall shut, and though he isn’t touching me right now, I feel him everywhere. In my lungs, in my bones. In mypulse.

He removes my cloak. Lets it fall around my hips. Underneath, I am wearing only a simple black dress with a neckline that scoops down far too low.

His knuckles glide along the arc of my neck.

I release a breath.

He swallows it, his mouth on mine once more. He smells like the zest of an orange, the salt of the isle, a scent that lingers even on his lips. I bring my hands to his chest, splay my fingers across it.

He releases a long-suffering groan. “Vasalie, please, spare me and pull away before I lose myself and carry you to bed.”

I should do just that. But this is a moment we might never have again, and try as I might, I can’t back away. So what if I am selfish, just this once?

I can’t put words to what I want from him right now. I just know I want . . .more.

I shake my head, my fingers twining around his neck. His breath shudders, and in return, a hand flirts with the hem of my dress. He watches me for any hint of discomfort, then his palm travels up and over my thigh, and farther still, to curve around my hip.