Bastian leaned back against the wall next to Jane's closed door. His body was rigid, tension coiled like snakes in his muscles. He had kissed her again, had almost lost control again. But she had tasted so good, like wine and her own natural sweetness. The way she had shivered and gasped, breathless as he held her, still echoed in his ears and made him ache bone deep to go back into her room and finish what he had started. Neither of them spoke about the drawing room incident or how they had been so intimate there yet like distant voyeurs. However, the kitchen and her bedroomthose two kisses belonged solely to them and not to the past.
They couldn't keep doing this, a dance circling closer and closer to each other until they made the mistake of sleeping together. It couldn't be allowed to
