Page 72 of Bookshop Cinderella

“More than that.” She reached out and delicately touched a bundle of yellowed letters on the shelf beside her. “Some of these papers are so old, they’re crumbling.”

Along with his sanity.

“If you want to preserve them,” she went on, “they ought to be properly packed and stored in archival boxes.”

Sadly, he could not preserve himself in a similar fashion until she was safely out of reach. “I did make a bit of a start on things last year, but as you might guess, it’s hard to know where to even begin something like this. No one’s ever bothered, as you can see.”

“I’d soon have it sorted for you, if I were staying longer.”

If that happened, he’d be forced to jump off a cliff.

“I’m sure,” he agreed. “But as you said, you’re going back to town, worse luck.”

“Are you staying here, then?”

“For another week or two, yes. But I’ll be back in time for the ball.”

“A pity we won’t be able to put our practice to use there. Dancing together,” she prompted at his blank stare. “At the ball.”

“Oh, that, yes,” he said, hauling his imagination back from the dangerous imaginary place where they practiced things much naughtier than dancing. “A great pity.”

“We dance so well together. I still fear any other partners I may dance with will rue having asked me.”

“Nonsense. You had similar apprehensions about dancing with me, and about croquet, and look how both of those turned out.”

“True,” she agreed, laughing. “You may win that bet, after all.”

“That’s the spirit,” he approved. “Now,” he added, donning the brisk air of a busy man, “I’d best get on with this. Feel free to take any books you like. Just be sure to jot the titles in the record book on your way out. Have a good journey back, and I will see you at the ball.”

He bowed, and when he straightened, she had already turned to leave, but thenshe stopped, showing he wasn’t out of the woods. “Max?”

Christ, have mercy.

“Yes?”

“Are you—” She broke off and bit her lip, staring at him in uncertainty. “Are you angry with me for some reason?”

He blinked. “Angry? With you? Far from it.” His gaze lowered, sweeping with hot longing over her figure, envisioning the naked image that had been tormenting him for weeks, and he could feel himself splintering apart. He lifted his gaze again, stopping at her chin, not quite meeting her eyes, afraid of what she’d see in his. “Of course not,” he answered. “I can’t imagine why you’d think such a thing.”

But he knew the answer, even before her lips twisted into a wry smile. “Perhaps because you’ve hardly spoken to me all weekend?”

“Forgive me,” he said at once. “But with so many guests and so much to do, there hasn’t been much time, and now—”

He broke off as something shimmered in her face, a hint of hurt that made it clear he hadn’t sounded the least bit convincing.

“I’m sure you’re very busy,” she said and took a step back. “I won’t trespass on your time any longer.”

She turned away, and he couldn’t bear it. Like a dam breaking, his resolve cracked and broke apart, and he reached for her, turning her around and pulling her into his arms before he could stop himself.

At once, the feel of her body against his sent the desire he’d been holding back flooding through him. “Evie, for God’s sake,” he muttered, lifting one hand to cup her face as his other arm wrapped around her waist. “You’re killing me. Don’t you see? All I want is to kiss you and touch you. All I can think about is what you look like under your clothes and what it would be like to have your body naked under mine. And I know that I can never find out because nothing good can come of it. You said it yourself, that being a duchess is the last thing in the world you’d ever want, but that doesn’t seem to stop me from wanting you, and trying to keep that in check is driving me a bit mad.”

She was blushing as he offered this torrid speech, soft pink flooding her face and neck. “Oh,” she breathed. “I didn’t know you were thinking...” She paused, pulling back in his hold. “I didn’t realize—”

He cut her off with a kiss, pressing his lips to hers before she could withdraw, the temptation to have her, if only for a few more agonizing moments, far stronger than any sense of self-preservation he’d ever possessed.

Her mouth was warm and soft, and she melted against him, her lips parting beneath his.

His body responded at once, desire flaring higher, blazing into outright lust. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth, and she responded, meeting his tongue with her own, every bit as sweetly willing as she’d been during their first kiss, making him want her even more.

---