Page 12 of A Beautiful Crime

He places his large hand on my lower back and presses me close to him.

The scent of cinnamon, musk and sin fill my nostrils. A heady combination that one might not be able to resist.

I am not a foolish woman nor am I one to fall at whims so easily.

Yet, still, my body reacts to his touch. Lighting flames in my nerve endings. Sending mixed signals to my brain.

With my hand held delicately in his he interlocks our fingers, his hand practically swallowing mine whole.

And I can’t help but feel like little red riding hood snared in the teeth of the big bad wolf.

He leads the dance, sweeping us across the floor with an elegance that even professionals can admire.

I keep my eyes averted from his. This close I don’t trust myself to stare in the whisky color of his eyes. For I don’t know if I’ll become inebriated or want to pluck them out with a fine knife. The emotions he is stirring in me either way must never see the light of day.

I must be in control. Have perfect poise.

The fact that he is awakening me from the dead disturbs me.

And it’s one more thing I can hate him for.

“Quite a somber piece to dance to,” I comment, my voice a soft caress meant to lure him in.

He hums thoughtfully. From my peripheral vision I see him incline his head towards me. I feel the heat of his breath along my neck. “One would beg to differ that you could dance to anything.”

“It certainly isn’t appropriate.”

His fingers on my lower back tease the opening of my open back satin floor length formal gown. My breath catches in my throat.

I feel his lips against the shell of my ear as he asks me, “Do I look like the type of man who concerns himself with what’s appropriate or politically correct?”

“No,” I breathe.

“I expect you to look at me when you speak to me.”

I grind down on my teeth, tempted to ruin his expensive premium leather Italian shoes by staining them with blood once I pierce through them with my heel.

“If you expect it, that doesn’t necessarily mean it will happen. It’s only likely,” I tell him coolly.

He chuckles, the dark sound a melancholy melody to tempt even the purest of souls. “Are you saying you would respond better to an order?”

“I’m merely stating that if you expect something there is the slight chance that it may not happen.”

He hums again, this time amused.

What does it mean for one’s life to amuse the Devil?

“And if I order you now to look in my eyes, will you?”

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

Abruptly but in time with the crescendo of the music he spins me out. The sound of my dress makes a dramatic swoosh across the marbled floor. Then just as abruptly he pulls me back in and dips me. His arm cradling my back and his hand wholly covering my outer thigh as he bends it. His body fills the space between my parted legs as he too leans in with me. I’m so close to the floor the ends of my hair kiss it. My eyes fly wide to his, finally looking into them since our dance had started.

A smirk graces his lips. “It seems as if I don’t have to order you after all.”

Damn him.

I grind down on my teeth to the point where my molars ache.

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