Violet drew back a little, her breathing ragged. She did not release him.
Connor stopped at once, his hands staying where they had settled, one near her waist, the other braced lightly on the desk beside her. His eyes searched her face with a restraint that made her throat ache.
“Do ye want me to stop?” he asked.
Her fingers tightened in his coat.
“Violet.”
“I should.”
His jaw flexed. “That isnae what I asked.”
Violet breathed against his skin. She had built the whole day from proper answers. One was waiting behind the haze she suddenly found herself in. One that was sensible and wouldn’t throw her for a loop and make her face the troubles she had managed to bury from childhood.
Damn it.
Her mouth found his again before she could speak.
The second kiss undid what the first had merely threatened. Violet tried, for perhaps three breaths, to keep some small dignity inside it. Her hands stayed curled in his coat, as if she meant only to steady herself. Then his mouth moved against hers with more pressure, and her fingers flattened against his chest, feeling the hard beat beneath the fabric.
She meant to push, but her hands pulled.
Connor noticed and drew back only enough for his breath to brush her lips. “Let me ken if ye want to stop,” he rasped.
“Ye keep saying things that make it difficult to think.”
“Good.”
“That wasnaepraise.”
“It sounded like it.”
She should have objected. Instead, a laugh caught low in her throat and turned into another unsteady breath when he kissed the corner of her mouth.
His hands settled on her waist, firm through the layers of her gown. He guided her by inches, giving her time to resist. She felt the desk behind her before she understood he had moved her there.
The desk.
His desk, with the neat stacks of letters and the untouched glass of whisky. A brighter tune rose beyond the door. The cèilidh had grown louder, and the reminder of guests nearby made Violet’s breath catch.
Connor paused, his hands remaining on her waist. “Do ye want to return to them?”
She looked past his shoulder toward the door. The handle, the wood, the path back to noise and smiles and safety all waited there.
“Nae really.” The words slipped out plain, ruining every careful lie she owned.
Connor’s gaze darkened as he leaned in and kissed her jaw, then waited. Her head tilted before she knew it. His mouth trailed down her throat, slow and deliberate, and the sound she madeshamed her until his fingers tightened at her waist, as if he needed the steadiness too.
“Still with me, wife?” he asked.
“Daenae call me that right now.”
“Why?”
Her eyes closed. “Because I ken very well what ye are trying to do.”
Silence followed, lasting only a breath, yet it felt long enough for her to regret every honest part of herself.
