Fire flickered in her belly and she licked her lips. “Will you be watching?”
He raised a dark brow. “Do youwantme to?”
As she lost herself in his dark eyes, she wanted to tell herself she didn’t, that it was a bad idea, and they both should never look at each other again.Especiallythat way. But she couldn't lie to herself.
He stepped toward her and traced the slit in her sheer sleeve with his finger. His touch spurred a moan she had to swallow.
“I couldn’t look away if I tried. And I certainly don’t want to,” he said. He placed a finger under her chin and said softly, “Go show him how irresistible you are.” Then he skimmed that finger along her jaw, spun on his heel, and left her standing on the dance floor.
Emmery’s chest clenched. Gods, what had she gotten herself into? She couldn’t dance worth a damn, let alone do these other …things. No one had touched her in such a very long time.
But the celestial trumpet loosened her up, made her limbs languid. And she gave into it. Her pulse roared in her ears as her hips swayed and her body moved to the music, joined with it, injected it into her veins, lit her up like a candlewick, and she burned. As she danced, she lost sight of the tent and the man’s silhouette. She forgot everything and merelybecame.
Her hands on her body bordered ecstasy, but didn’t curb that building, throbbing ache, or her endless want. Her desire only worsened by the second.
And no matter how hard she fought to look anywhere else, her stare collided with Dez’s. Despite her pleading eyes, he lounged against the wall, unmoving, though his hands twitched at his sides, like he, too, ached for her.
Time stretched as she submerged in the crowd and sought anyone who would touch her. Most made her recoil, others felt entirely wrong, and her search grew futile.
Because it wasn’t them she wanted.
Then familiar fingers twined with hers, and she giggled with such joy she barely recognized the sound as her own. She spun to find those dark eyes and that flawless face she adored.
And suddenly her world righted.
Dez twirled her like a princess before he stole her away from the stage, their stares locked in a clash of honeyed gold andsuede darkness. Her cheeks warmed as he took in her bare shoulder, and her breasts trussed up in that damn corset. At some point she’d nearly shrugged out of her dress, and her sleeves now hung limp, the rest of the sheer fabric gathered at her waist, and her bunched skirts exposed the tops of her stockings.
The backs of Dez’s knees struck a chaise, and he abruptly sat, nearly yanking her down with him. He looked up at her,gazedat her like she was the last star burning out in the night sky, and he was afraid to blink and miss it.
She didn’t know what that look meant, nor the thoughts behind his eyes.
“Dez?” His name slid sweetly from her tongue, a tablespoon of nectar. “Dezzy?” She giggled again.
Caught in this euphoric haze with her, he smiled, not sunshine, but rather heat, mischief, and a catalyst to that throbbing restlessness inside her.
“Yes, Emmery darling?” he practically purred.
Her gaze searched his face for his intentions. “What are you doing?”
He fumbled for the answer, like he was so intoxicated by her that she stole all his thoughts; a hit of a drug so potent he tasted the clouds. “Something,” he whispered from a deep chasm in his chest. “Something foolish.”
Those two words ricocheted inside her memory, and Emmery’s breath caught. Had that vision been real all along? Had those been his words? His kiss that now haunted her dreams? Maybe they truly had been watching some alternate versions of themselves love and pleasure each other, likely in a way they never could.
Not in this lifetime. Not in these broken bodies with these shattered souls.
But as he gazed at her like a glimpse of long forgotten hope, she thought for a single scrap of a moment, perhaps they could.
“Something that’s sure to hurt me,” he breathed, the sentiment heavy.
Emmery’s brows drew together. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said. Her voice caressed her ears like satin, though her words slurred. “I won’t, Dez. As long as you promise not to hurt me, too.”
He half-heartedly smudged blood from the crown across his cheek as she stepped between his spread legs.
Maybe the trumpet’s influence had truly driven her to madness, but Emmery snagged his hand and studied the blood. Her mouth watered, and before Dez could speak, she drew two of his fingers coated in that rich red into her mouth and sucked.
The blood exploded on her tongue, delicious, perfect, and she squeezed her eyes closed. Dez inhaled sharply, but didn’t pull away, even as she moaned around his fingers and savoured it with a flick of her tongue.
His lips parted and something dangerous lurked in his stare. Something wicked and sinful and so damn enticing she began to tremble.