An Heiress to Remember (The Gilded Age Girls Club #3) - Maya Rodale Page 0,47

this, when two consenting adults are alone after drinking champagne? And looking at me the way you are.”

“Like how, Dalton?”

“Like it’s been a long time.”

“Well, it has been a long time,” she said and her voice came out huskier than she would have liked. All of a sudden she was keenly aware that it had been a while since she had a good kiss. Years.

“And like you’re thinking of kissing me,” he murmured.

He stood close enough to do so now. There was an electric hum in the air and she rather thought it was from the two of them, sparking as they got close together, and not the electrified chandeliers above on a dim setting.

“Maybe I am.”

Dalton stepped closer to her. She leaned back against a heavy wooden chest of drawers, lending her much-needed support. Her knees were weakening, for God’s sake, like she was some idealistic young girl and not a divorcée of a certain age.

“But a kiss would complicate things,” he murmured.

“All the best kisses do,” she whispered.

All of a sudden she cared little for complications.

He was thinking about it, she could tell. Leaning in. Hesitating. Despite all his vows of revenge and ruination his lips were mere inches from hers. He knew, as well as she, that a kiss now would complicate things tremendously. She didn’t entirely believe him when he said he was no longer hell-bent on revenge. One didn’t just give it up, on the spot.

Not after the years of what they had suffered.

Was a kiss—and what might come after—another way of obtaining what he wanted from her? She could see how he could play it: make her want, make her desire, propose marriage, and what is hers becomes his.

It was entirely possible.

This was the man who had made her love and then took money to disappear. This was a man who had never hidden his intent to own her store.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she saw it was set in a half hint of a smile, the smile of a millionaire rogue intent on seduction, and who was accustomed to getting what he wanted.

And the slow burn began in her core and roared through the rest of her like a forest fire. It had been so damned long since she’d had a good, really good kiss. Years. A lifetime even.

She hadn’t forgotten how good it had once been.

She was done playing it safe.

Beatrice was no longer some eager-to-please debutante, wearing white and doing what was expected. Tonight she wore red. She spoke up instead of biting her tongue. And, she impulsively decided, kissed a man if she wanted to. Even if it was a terrible idea.

A kiss would complicate things. Of course. That was half the fun of it.

“What’s stopping you, Dalton?”

“Besides the crowds of people just downstairs? The ball in full swing?”

“It’s just like old times. My debut party. Remember?”

“I wasn’t invited to that one.”

“But you snuck up to my room after. And look at us now. Competitors in a compromising position.”

He was so close that she could feel his body against hers and the rise and fall of his chest with each slow and steady breath. She breathed him in. Pressed one palm on his chest to steady herself, but she felt how wildly his heart was beating.

There was no hiding how much this was affecting him, too. His obvious desire for her made her own wanting more intense.

So Beatrice slid her hands on his chest, then grabbed a fistful of his black satin lapel and kissed him. His mouth claimed hers, or hers claimed his. They kissed, with the pent-up longing of sixteen years of hurt and yearning, anger and desire. It was slow and tentative and hesitant for exactly one second.

Two strong forces colliding and surrendering upon impact.

All at once, it was just like old times, better than she remembered and everything she ever wanted.

The strong planes of his chest, hot to the touch, heart pounding underneath the layers of wool and whatever. She’d been so cold for so long and so she didn’t give a thought to burning alive by the pressure of his body against hers.

This. She survived and crawled through hellfire and agonies for this and it was worth it. Dalton’s fingers sank into her hair, holding her as he drank her in. Like he’d been dying for her the whole time they’d been apart.

She kissed him back and thought, Same.

She kissed him back and thought, What a waste. All those years of cold and