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“You’re drunk,” Zachary sighs. He looks from Iakov to me. “You’rebothdrunk.”
“I’m a little tipsy,” I admit.
“I’m stone-cold sober,” Iakov says. “Tell your woman you like her dress, Blackwood, for fuck’s sake.”
“I’m not his woman,” I say hastily, pulling away from Zachary.
“I like your dress,” Zachary says. He crooks a finger and tugs on one of my shoulder straps. “I adore it, in fact.”
I cast Iakov a worried look, struck by the sudden fear he knows more than he should, but he grabs both mine and Zachary’s heads in his big hands, leans forward, and says very gravely, “You two should really fuck someday.”
And then, with a roaring laugh, he stomps off into the crowd.
“You’ve not told him,” I say to Zachary with some surprise.
“Of course not. I haven’t told a soul.”
“You really are a good man, Zachary Blackwood.” I sigh, drawing closer to him. “A true saint.”
He clenches his jaw. “Oh, if you knew the nature of my thoughts right now, my Theodora, you’d know I’m far from a saint.”
I turn slowly, moving into the music, and flick at the hem of my skirt with my fingers. “And what is the nature of those thoughts?”
Zach takes me by my hips, pushing into me from behind, the hard bulge pressing against me, making clear the nature of his thoughts.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmurs in my ear. “I’m not a saint, Theodora, believe me when I say that.”
Then he pushes me away and turns me to face him. His eyes have a feverish glow to them as he bends to speak quietly to me.
“One of us needs to leave right now.”
“Why?”
“Because my self-control is holding on by the merest of threads, and I suspect you might be naked underneath that pretty little dress of yours.” He straightens his clothes, the muscles in his jaw twitching. “So unless you wish for me to fuck you right here in the middle of this party for all to see, then I suggest one of us leaves now.”
Chapter 41
Inexplicable Dread
Zachary
ImanagetogiveTheodora a fifteen-minute head start before following her out.
The cold night air does little to cool the burning heat in my skin, and I break into a run. I catch up with her on the main path, the one lined with birch trees, and I grab her by the waist, drawing a gasp from her as I bury my face in her fragrant hair.
“Come on,” I groan, taking her by the hand.
We make it as far as the first classroom we find in the Old Manor. My keys shake in my grasp as I unlock the door, and I slam it shut behind us. As soon as I do, Theodora is on me, her arms wrapping about my shoulders, her mouth on mine.
She tastes like vodka and raspberries.
An addictive taste, and I know I’ll never be able to drink vodka again without thinking of kissing her.
I haul her against me, ravishing her mouth with ravenous kisses as I carry her towards the teacher’s desk, propping her on the edge. When I pull away, she looks up at me, her mouth open and wet and pink.
“Lift your skirt,” I command her.
She bites into her lower lip and slowly lifts her skirt. The crimson fabric makes her look paler still—in the darkness of the unlit room, she almost glows.
