Page 20 of Moonlit Temptation

And now we were here, in a romantic square where he was looking down at me with an intensity that stole my breath and had me backing up a step.

It was a look that cracked me open, where he reached in to touch all the pieces inside me that existed for him.

He was too much. Overpowering, domineering.

I wanted to run away and jump into his arms all at the same time. Nerves racked my body as I took another step back.

He raised a brow and followed.

“Why are we here, Saint?”

“You asked to see my London.” He looked around. “This is it.”

It was quiet and romantic and everything I didn’t associate with Saint. Who was this man in London and how different was he from the man who ruled in Atlanta?

“Madelayne—”

“I want to dance,” I blurted.

He blinked, then stepped aside, ushering me toward where the musician played. “Then dance.”

I started to move when I realized he wasn’t following. “You’re not coming?”

“I don’t dance.” His arms crossed over his chest, his suit jacket pulling around his shoulders.

Feeling Saint’s eyes on me, I swished my hips a little more.

He was the sin I wanted to commit, the greatest offense to sleep with my brother’s best friend.

I liked the idea of danger, the thrill of taboo.

He was everything I shouldn’t want, everything I should avoid, and that only made me want to sink my nails into him harder.

At least for a night, I wanted him to be mine.

Saint made me nervous, but nerves could be good. The kick in the ass a person needed to go after what they wanted. If nerves didn’t flutter in your gut, it wouldn’t matter.

And Saint mattered.

To me, he always did.

He was watching me now with a mix of fascination and bemusement, like he couldn’t figure out why he found the swaying of my hips as fascinating as he did, why he was watching me without wanting to look away.

Why he couldn’t look away.

Maybe it wasn’t in my head earlier.

Maybe I wasn’t making something out of nothing.

I spun around between the dancing couples as the musician changed gears, switching tempos on a song.

Gone was the slow moonlit tunes and in its place was the beat to one of my favorite songs.

Catching Saint’s eye, I noticed he moved closer. I crooked my finger at him as I softly sang along to the lyrics.

Join me, dance with me, touch me.

He shook his head, a smirk taking shape on his sharp, angular face.

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