A shiver danced down her spine. Not from apprehension or fear, but anticipation. She held her breath until he moved away again. The intensity of his stare made her heart beat faster. She heard the way his breath hitched slightly as he waited for her reaction. He’d come to see her. Arista was unprepared for his honesty.
“No, I will not.” Her reply came out on her exhaled breath. Duty and her reason for being there vanished. Despite all her years of training to be aloof and unapproachable, her thoughts scattered and she was left unsure. Her gaze dropped to his lips without her consent.
He inhaled sharply and closed the distance between them in two steps. When he touched her bare shoulder, Arista forgot how to breathe. The warmth she remembered so well spiraled outward from his touch. When he curled his fingers around the back of her neck and inched her head closer, a frantic beat began in her chest.
The indulgent nature of the party wound around them as the strains of music drifted through the air. Fire burned in his eyes, and it made her feel wild and reckless. It made her forget who she was supposed to be. She was not Lady A now. She was only Arista. And this highwayman wanted her.
This was a masquerade, after all—why shouldn’t she indulge, just a little? It might be her only chance to let go for one time in her life and just feel. No Nic. No Bones. No Lady A. Just the two of them.
His eyes grew darker. Holding her so her head was almost pressed against his chest, he took her hand and led her into the first steps of a waltz. Her feet followed automatically. Grae held her tightly and much closer than propriety would have allowed under normal circumstances. She could hear his heart beating. His breath brushed over the sensitive slope of her ear, causing her to forget everything. When she stumbled, he pulled her completely against him, never missing a step.
Arista had never danced at a party. She didn’t attend them for fun, and had never indulged in the frivolity that went on as she conducted business. And yet, Becky had insisted Arista learn to dance as part of her training. Right that moment, Arista had never been more grateful that her friend hadn’t listened to her complaints that it was an unnecessary skill. Nothing in her life had ever felt better than being in Grae’s arms. The ground beneath her feet gave way and she stood on nothing but air.
Grae steered them effortlessly into the shadows. His stare held her captive. “Can I kiss you?”
Still feeling as though she were floating through the waltz, she nodded, caught so completely in this mysterious spell that she couldn’t bear to say no. Grae ran his thumb along her jaw, softly stroking closer and closer to her lips. When he brushed a finger along her bottom lip, she closed her eyes. She was tense, yet her legs felt like jelly. Grae’s finger moved away, and when she opened her eyes, he was watching her, his finger hovering over her mouth.
Arista needed to get closer to him—as close as she could. She dug her fingers into his jacket and held on as if her life depended on it. The desire was foreign and unnerving, but not unwanted, and she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.
Having only been kissed once before, she felt unsure and awkward as she leaned up and pressed her lips against his. He responded immediately. His lips took hers and this time he didn’t hold back. The masks helped Arista maintain a degree of anonymity, which led her to be much bolder than she would have in any other circumstance. For once, she did what she wanted—gave in to the desire to touch someone, to let him touch her in return. Deprived of this luxury for so long, Arista soaked up the feeling like a sponge.
She kissed Grae back with every ounce of longing in her body. It was him, the promise in his eyes when he looked at her, that was causing this reckless abandonment. This stranger’s touch was igniting something wild inside her, something she could neither deny nor control. She wanted the kiss to go on and on forever.
He could be her way out.
Arista jerked away from the man and backed up, never taking her eyes off his face. His closeness made it hard to breathe. She pressed her hand against her chest to slow her frantic heartbeat. He looked bewildered and slightly off-kilter.
Her lips still burned from his touch and she scrubbed a gloved fist over them. She had again been on the verge of asking him to take her away with him. And maybe he would take her with him.
But would he if he knew who she was?
He did not know Lady A or her nefarious reputation yet. He did not fear or loathe her on sight. This was cruel. As if some bigger power was dangling a beautiful silver key just over her head, promising freedom from her tarnished cage, if she only dared to reach for it. But Arista knew what would happen if she did: retribution, swift and deadly. Bones would find out, and he would do worse than kill her.
“Please, tell me your name.” His voice sounded hoarse and it cracked with emotion. He already knew she would run from him again.
Arista choked on the reply. She wanted to tell him, but how could she? She was nobody. She had no past, no future. Nothing to offer anyone. She had no right to ask him to risk anything to help her escape.