“I’d like to do more than dance.”
Chapter Four
Was she really doing this?
Tess shook her head in disbelief as she followed the handsome stranger through the crowded rooms. The force of her attraction was both wonderful and terrifying.
His opponent had called him Thorn, but was that his surname, or a nickname? Either way, it seemed oddly appropriate. There was a sharpness about him; a dangerous kind of beauty, like the perfectly honed edge of a blade.
Perhaps it was better not knowing his name.
He still held her hand. He glanced over his shoulder with a smile that made her belly flutter.
The crowds thinned out as they ventured deeper into the house. Couples pressed together in darkened alcoves. Tess glanced around for Ellie and Daisy, but there was no sign of either of them.
The first room they entered was occupied. Tess heard a male bellow of outrage as the door slammed shut again, and she sent a silent apology to whomever they’d inadvertently interrupted.
The second room was empty, lit with a solitary lamp.She glimpsed tall rows of books that lined the walls before she was whirled around and pressed flat against the door. The stranger’s chest met hers, his body caging her, and she felt a flutter of delicious panic.
This was madness.
Imperative madness.
She could barely see him in the gloom, just his outline, but she felt him lean closer. His breath teased her jaw.
“So, what does this adventure of yours look like?”
Her fears slid away. She wanted this.Neededthis. She just had to be brave.
“It starts with a kiss.”
He studied her mouth with an intensity that should have been unnerving, but instead made her body tingle in anticipation.
“A kiss? I can manage that.”
He bent his head and Tess closed her eyes, determined to savor every movement. She’d never been kissed on the mouth before.
His lips grazed hers, warm, softer than she’d expected. She’d thought he’d devour her, abandon all restraint, but there was no urgency in his kiss, no aggression. Instead, he kissed her with a delicious, unhurried languor, as if she were something to be savored. As if they had all the time in the world.
Heat spread up her throat and into her cheeks.
His hands came up to cradle her face and she stiffened, thinking he meant to remove her mask, but he only brushed his thumbs across the edges of her mouth in a way that made her shiver out a breath.
He kissed her again.
“Delicious,” he murmured. “Your mouth is delicious.”
He angled his head, and she felt his tongue glide along the closed seam of her lips. Tess experienced a momentof confusion, but when she opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing, his tongue slid inside to mingle with her own.
She almost swooned at the delightful new sensation. Cautiously, she swirled her own tongue against his, kissing him back with artless enthusiasm, and when he gave a low groan of encouragement her body tingled in wicked response.
He tasted of the brandy he’d been drinking, smoky and dark, and heat pooled low in her belly. His big hands slid into her hair, cupping her skull as he deepened the kiss, pulling her into the darkness like an undertow current that was impossible to resist.
One kiss became many, an endless game of advance and retreat—drugging, addictive, deliciously overwhelming. Tess sagged against the door, weak at the knees.
Oh, this wasglorious!
Emboldened, she slid her hands around his neck and threaded her fingers into his hair, wishing she’d removed her gloves to feel the texture of his skin. His chest pinioned her against the door as his mouth stole the breath from her lungs.
