No. That would not do.
So he should lie. He opened his mouth to do just that. But then, she did the unexpected. She moved closer to him. Likely just one step, but it put her dangerously close. Touchably close.
Close enough that the scent of rosewater wrapped around him and the skirt of her gown brushed against his legs. If he lifted an arm just slightly, he’d be holding her. "Estella, I?—"
But the words wouldn't come.
She was nearer now. He’d barely seen her move, but now his coat, still wrapped around her, brushed against his chest. And he could see the faint dusting of freckles across her nose. Her hand on his arm shifted, and now her fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve.
His chest ached.
"Sebastian." Just his name. But the way she said it—low, warm, and oh so certain. As though she already knew the answer and was simply waiting for him to be brave enough to give it.
The look in her eyes changed. He saw it happen in the space of a single breath. The careful hope gave way to something fiercer. A decision made. A new determination in the upward tilt of her jaw. The same quiet courage he'd watched her summon a hundred times. But this time…
It was directed at him.
Her hand slid from his arm to his chest. Her palm flattened over his heart, and he knew she could feel how fast it was beating, and he couldn't bring himself to care.
She rose up on her toes.
He should stop her. He should step back. He should say something cutting and cold that would put distance between them and keep them both safe.
But her lips were parting, and her eyes were darkening, and there was so much wanting in her expression that it took his breath away. He was mesmerized. Utterly, completely undone by this woman who was half his size and twice as brave. And then?—
She pressed her lips to his. And the whole world stopped turning.
The kiss was sweet. Sweeter than he’d ever dared dream. Despite her fierce resolve, the touch of her lips was achingly soft. Her fingers fluttered tentatively against his chest. And the taste…
The heat of her breath and the give of her lips… His mind went blank as sensation overrode sense.
The heat, the need, the fierce possessiveness he’d been fighting to contain swept to the surface in the span of a heartbeat. It was all-consuming.
Her lips parted on an inhale, and he felt her freeze, as if she’d just realized what she’d done.
But no. No. There was no turning back now.
He was a starving man who’d had his first taste, and now he wanted more.
He needed more.
Even though some part of him knew that he could never ever get enough.
14
Estella froze, one hand hovering over his heart, and her lips clinging to his.
Oh good heavens.
She had kissed the Marquess of Blackwood.
She was kissing Sebastian.
The thought registered somewhere in the back of Estella's mind, distant and appalled, even as her lips pressed against his. What had she done? What on earth had possessed her to?—
She started to pull back. Horror was rising, swift and scalding, and she was already composing the apology, bracing for the cold dismissal.
She was fully prepared to die of mortification right here on this terrace and?—
