Page 62 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess
“Distracted?” she echoed, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts. “By what, pray tell?”
Adam leaned closer, his breath a warm whisper against her cheek, and her heart jumped in her chest.
“By the way you move, the way you look…the way you make me feel.”
Rosaline’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson.
“I…I don’t understand,” she stammered, barely able to speak above a whisper, her pulse thundering in her ears.
Her hands—her scarred hands—tensed at her sides, as if the very act of touching him, of allowing him to touch her, would make her break.
He smiled then, a slow, predatory smile, and the possessive gleam in his eyes sent a shiver through her.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Duchess,” he murmured. “We spoke about this earlier.”
Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she thought it might shatter. The words—his words—seemed to settle in her veins like fire, both exhilarating and terrifying.
“Perhaps it was said in the heat of the moment, Duke,” she countered, though her voice faltered slightly.
Adam chuckled, a deep, dangerous sound that echoed in her bones.
“Is that so?” He pulled her closer, the movement so swift and certain that Rosaline couldn’t help but feel the sudden pressure of his body against hers.
The world seemed to blur around them as he danced with renewed intensity, his movements smooth, fluid, and filled with a powerful command that left her breathless.
“My patience is running thin,” he said, “especially when I have you in my arms like this.”
Rosaline met his gaze, her breath catching in her throat. There was fire in those eyes, a fire she didn’t know how to extinguish.
“So…what are you going to do about it?”
Adam’s smile was slow, deliberate, as though he were savoring the moment. He leaned even closer, his lips hovering dangerously near hers.
“Meet me in the library five minutes after we finish this dance.”
Rosaline’s heart skipped a beat, her body trembling as she felt a wave of something—something dangerous—sweeping over her.
But when she looked up at him again, all her resolve faltered.
Why does this feel so exhilarating?
She met his gaze head-on, her eyes blazing with the fire of her own pride.
“All right,” she whispered, “Five minutes.”
Adam, his eyes burning with that predatory gleam, held her gaze for a moment longer, then he leaned back slightly, a slow, satisfied smile playing on his lips.
“That’s my good girl.”
The intensity between them didn’t fade, and Rosaline, despite herself, felt the pull.
The music continued to swirl around them, but she could hardly hear it over the sound of her own breathing, and the rush of heat in her chest. He had ensnared her, and she wasn’t sure if she was thrilled or terrified.
As the dance continued, with their fingers still intertwined, Rosaline fought against the desire to run, to break free from the overwhelming attraction she felt for this man.
She was a dutiful wife, wasn’t she? Yet, standing here in his embrace, she realized something unsettling: She didn’t know what she wanted anymore.
All she knew was that she was caught. And the world, with its rules and expectations, had just become very, very small.
