Page 37 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

“You wished to learn,” he murmured. “Attend, then.”

“I thought you meant to teach me privately first,” she whispered. “Everyone is staring.”

He stilled for a moment, studying her. “You truly wish to be alone with me, held this close, while I teach you the waltz?” A faint, knowing curve touched his mouth. “I find this unexpected boldness most appealing. Come, then. I have a private room on the third floor.”

“No!” Her neck flushed a deeper shade of red. “I will learn here.”

A flicker of amusement stirred within him. “Afraid you might succumb to my charm?”

“Yes.”

The quiet admission struck him forcefully. How disarmingly honest you are.”

When their gazes met, he caught the heat of sensual awareness in her eyes, bright, unguarded, and impossible to mistake. A faint frown touched him as he realized he had never truly noticed her eyes before, or how remarkably pretty the warm brown appeared behind her mask.

“Do not mock me,” she said softly, her gaze searching his.

“I give you my word,” Sebastian murmured, a peculiar jolt stirring within his chest at the vulnerability she revealed. “Follow my lead.”

“I may stumble,” she said, her voice unsteady, her hands tightening upon him.

“I shall catch you.”

“Then I shall trust you, my lord.”

The music carried them forward, and he moved with it, drawing her into the rhythm before she could succumb to her nerves. At first she followed with tentative steps and uneven breaths, fierce concentration sharpening her gaze.

Sebastian adjusted her without comment. His hand at her waist shifted with deliberate intent, aligning her to him, teaching her the proper position while letting his palm remain a fraction longer than necessity required. His fingers traced the line of her back as he guided her through a turn, correcting, instructing, learning the shape of her beneath the guise of instruction.

The wickedness of it was plain, yet he did not stop. He drew her closer still, until he could feel the tremor of her breath against his throat. His cock hardened in response, desire rising with a sharpness he had not anticipated.

“I presume this is not how the waltz is conducted in polite society,” she said, her voice breathless.

The admission confirmed that she had never waltzed in a society ballroom, a curious omission for a lady of evident education.

“No,” he said. “Though I daresay the polite version is far more dangerous.”

She tipped back her head, meeting his gaze. “Do you tease me? How could propriety possibly make the waltz more dangerous than this?”

“In a ballroom there is but a breath more space between two bodies,” he said. “When dancing the waltz, one is required to maintain propriety, to observe restraint, even as every step insists upon the opposite. You are made acutely aware of what you ought not feel and therefore feel it all the more keenly.”

Her eyes widened beneath the mask.

“It is a most artful torment. To be placed so near, to know precisely what might be taken, and yet be denied. It stokes the appetite without ever allowing the indulgence. A man is expected to dine upon air while a feast lies set before him. Tell me,” he murmured, his thumb shifting ever so slightly against her waist, “is that not the most dangerous sort of temptation of all?”

Her pulse fluttered wildly at the hollow of her throat. “I am not certain I have ever been tempted so.”

“Liar,” he drawled.

“Perhaps by a slice of chocolate cake. It haunted me through an entire night until I rose before Mama and my sisters, crept to the kitchen, and stole a scandalously large bite.”

Sebastian laughed. “You are a most unexpected woman, Red.”

Red’s gaze held his, something startled and searching within it, and Sebastian felt the answering pull. He wanted her beneath him. The provoking image came unbidden and wholly formed: her pussy yielding to his congress, her voice breaking as she cried his name, and the slow, relentless way he would drive her toward undoing upon his cock.

The realization came without his usual languid detachment; instead, it was sharp, immediate, and possessive. Her soft fragrance invaded his senses, settling beneath his skin like a quiet, consuming fire, until he tightened his hold upon her by instinct alone.

“Will you show me your face?” he asked quietly, the question escaping him before he had resolved to give it voice.