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The man is gorgeous. He's possibly the most gorgeous man I've ever seen in my entire life. I've never had much time for dating or romance. I'm always too busy with my mission of finding the vampire who killed my parents. But even I can appreciate a fine male figure from time to time.
I feel my cheeks flush when I see him staring down at me expectantly and realize that he said something else and that I totally missed what that something was.
"What?" I ask him, my voice coming out breathy.
His lips quirk up into an amused grin that somehow makes him look even more devastatingly handsome.
"I asked you if you wanted to dance. And then what your name is." His voice is as smooth as velvet, and something about it sends a shiver running up my spine.
I glance around us and still don't see the vampire I'm looking for, so I decide what's the harm in sharing one dance with this handsome stranger? Besides, maybe with him sweeping me around the ballroom floor, I'll get a chance to better canvas the area and find my target.
"Sure," I agree.
He smiles a full, even smile, the kind of smile that belongs on magazine covers, as he holds out his hand.
I place my hand in his and immediately feel electricity tingling up my arm from where our skin touches. He keeps his eyes trained on mine as his large hand engulfs my tiny one and he leads me onto the dance floor.
His touch is soft and firm all at the same time. I don't know why it's causing this erratic beating of my heart, but suddenly I'm wishing that I hadn't agreed to dance with him because I know that it's going to distract me from my cause. I won't be able to focus on looking for the vampire when I'm being twirled around the floor in this man's arms—a fact that's made even more blatantly clear whenever I feel his other hand press into the small of my back and pull me closer to him until there's scarcely an inch left between our bodies.
I feel the heat emanating off of his skin, and I look up at him again to see those brown eyes blazing down at me with an expression that makes my breath catch.
No one has ever looked at me this way before. I don't know what it means, but it causes my tummy to flutter like a thousand little butterflies have taken flight in it.
"Your name?" he prompts me again in that voice that sounds richer than the finest chocolate.
He begins to move us around the marbled floor, and I follow his lead with ease. I've never considered myself a good dancer, but he makes it easy, effortlessly floating me across the floor. "Britney," I finally answer him. "And yours?"
He doesn't immediately provide me with his own name. Instead, he repeats mine slowly, his eyes still trained intently on mine. He says my name like he's tasting it, caressing each syllable as he does. Something about the way he says my name while staring into my eyes intently causes a blush to rise to my cheeks.
The knowing grin on his face lets me know that the effect he has on me hasn't gone unnoticed by him.
Oh God, I wish the earth would just open up and swallow me whole. I'm hating myself right now for my pale complexion that always shows even the tiniest blush. I'm not usually one to fluster so easily, but something about this man has me all tied up in knots.
"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he goes on, his voice dripping with sensuality.
I suddenly realize that I'm way out of my league here. I might be twenty-one years old, but I'm still very inexperienced when it comes to men. I've only ever been kissed once and that was by a high school boyfriend, and the experience was anything but pleasant. I still shudder when I remember the wet, slobbery sensation of his lips on mine and his tongue trying to invade my mouth.
I kind of wrote off men since then, deciding to stay focused on my goal of getting my revenge. But good Lord, this man is like a god. And something tells me that a kiss from him would be anything but unpleasant. No, this man definitely knows how to kiss a woman. I don't know how I know that, but I just know.
Not used to accepting compliments, I don't really know how to respond, so I shrug and laugh nervously, "It's the dress."
His eyes pin me with their stare as he counters me in that deep, dark voice of his. "It's not the dress," his voice assures me.
My face flushes harder because I don't know if that's a compliment toward my person or an insult to the dress. Does he not like the dress? Now, I'm suddenly self-conscious about the dress, but the saleslady assured me it looked beautiful on me, but then again, she was trying to make a sale.
As if he can read my thoughts, he goes on to assure me, "The dress is stunning, no doubt, but it's the woman within it that makes it shine."
I feel my cheeks growing hot again. I look down, unable to meet his gaze. I'm not even wearing a corset and I feel like I can't breathe. I'm so glad now that I insisted on not wearing one because I'd surely pass out if I was.
My head feels kind of light as he continues to spin me around the room, and when I look up at him again, I realize that he never provided me with his own name.
"Thank you, but it hardly seems fair."
He raises his eyebrow in surprise.
"I told you my name, but you still haven't told me yours," I point out.
Amusement lights his eyes, and I see his lips twitch before he stops and bows as the dance ends. He lifts my hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it.
