“And you have Hawke Financial.”
“I do.”
“Thank you, Aiden. For sharing.”
A shutter drops over his face, as if he’s just realized everything he’s confided. I set down my glass and quickly move to my phone. I tap the screen and a delicate melody starts to play, followed soon after by a swell as more instruments join in. He needs a distraction.
“We’ll start with the box step.”
He sets down his champagne with a sigh and stands next to me. He watches my movements, mimics my footwork.
“Good. Now, time to add the partner.”
I turn and step in front of him. He’s still dressed in his white dress shirt and black suit pants, although he left the suit jacket behind. My gaze lingers on the base of his throat and the dark hair curling toward the top of his chest.
I look up. Aiden’s watching me. One corner of his mouth is tilted up. He knows I was ogling him. But I suddenly don’t know what to do. I want him. Not just as a fantasy but him. Not for forever, I quickly remind myself. Just for now.
But I’m scared. The weight has eased, but the fear still lingers.
“Tell me what to do, Seraphina.”
My lips part as my gaze drifts down to his mouth. I love the way he says my name, the emphasis he puts on the last syllable. It makes my name sound magical, sensual.
“You put your right hand on my shoulder blade.”
He reaches around and places his hand as instructed. My dress is held up by tiny straps and dips in the back, so his palm settles almost completely against my bare skin. I arch toward him, my breasts grazing his chest before I catch myself and pull back. I’m feeling just like I did during the photo shoot, this delicious pressure building inside me and I can’t do anything to stop it. Each touch only makes me want him more.
And this time, there’s no one else here. Just Aiden and me on the moonlit terrace of a Mediterranean villa.
“And the other hand?” he asks in a deep voice that ends on a faint rasp, as if he almost couldn’t get the words out.
I hold out my arm. “We hold hands at shoulder level.”
He takes hold of my left hand, his fingers wrapping around mine in a tight grip that is nothing like what a proper waltz position should be and everything I want.
“Now we dance.”
My words come out on a whisper, nearly drowned out by the music. We move slowly at first, then a little quicker in time to the music. All the while he keeps his gaze locked on me.
“Is that it?”
I can’t help but grin. “We could add a turn.”
He pulls me tight against his chest and executes a sudden spin. I cling to him, caught up in the whirlwind of the turn, the press of his hand against my back, his body against mine.
We stop. The music is still playing, but it sounds so far away, lost beneath the buzzing in my ears, the thudding of my heart, the shallowness of our breaths mingling.
He brings our joined hands up to his lips, brushes his mouth over my knuckles.
“I want you. And you want me.”
“I do,” I breathe.
He hesitates. “I can’t offer more, Seraphina.”
My desire dips. He’s reaffirming our agreement. Once our engagement is over, we’ll go back to the way things were.
Is that even possible?
