Page 59 of The Sound of Seduction
“I’ve been in love with you far longer than I’ve admitted, Wendy,” he murmured, his voice a low caress that seemed to settle onto her very skin, “but I waited—because wanting you is dangerous. And still I can’t stop. I love you, Wendy Folsham. So much!” His breath brushed the shape of her ear, sending a shiver all the way down her spine.
Before she could gather a response, his hands settled at her waist, firm and steady, grounding her and igniting something restless all at once.
“But it’s only recently,” he continued, dipping his head closer so that her breath caught entirely, “that I gave up trying to resist you. I’d rather try to keep you safe than risk a safe distance from you that might imperil us both.”
Her chest seemed to tighten, not in fear, but in anticipation so sharp it almost ached. She barely had time to register the swoop of movement as his hands guided her gently but firmly, turning her to face him fully.
The closeness was intoxicating. Wendy felt her heart stumble, forgetting for a moment the delicate rhythm it was supposed to maintain. Her fingers brushed instinctively against his chest, and the strength beneath her palms was quietly reassuring.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked softly, his voice a mix of vulnerability and something darker she couldn’t quite name.
She shook her head, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.
“Should I take you home?” he asked again, his tone carrying the same low intensity, though his lips pulled into a faint smile.
Again, she shook her head, her voice still refusing to cooperate. Her gaze, however, wandered to his lips, drawn there as if by an invisible force.
He licked his lips.
The motion was nothing if not simple, yet the effect on her was anything but that. Warmth unfurled low in her stomach, curling inward and spreading in waves that made her knees wobble.
A smile teased the corners of his mouth as though he were fully aware of the effect he had on her. He raised a hand, his palm resting against the back of her head, his fingers tangling lightly in her hair before guiding her toward him.
Wendy felt herself dissolve as his mouth met hers.
The kiss was patient yet consuming, like the slow pour of liquid honey. Every brush of his lips against hers unraveled her composure, pulling her deeper into the moment. Her hands gripped the lapels of his coat without thought, anchoring herself as her world narrowed to the soft sound of their breaths mingling and the steady press of his touch.
The floor creaked faintly somewhere down the hall.
Wendy froze, her lips hovering just a whisper away from his as voices filtered faintly through the doorway. Felix and Andre were still talking, their conversation indistinct but close enough to send a jolt through her.
Stan’s arm tightened around her waist instinctively, his body tense but unmoving. They stayed locked in place, barely breathing as Andre’s louder-than-usual laugh echoed through the quiet house.
Wendy pressed her forehead lightly against Stan’s chest, stifling the nervous, fluttery laugh threatening to spill out. His hand traveled to her lower back, a silent reassurance that they remained unseen, unnoticed—safe, for now. But the thrum oftheir shared moment, the charged current between them, didn’t subside.
“They won’t come in,” she whispered against his chest, the words more for herself than him. “I don’t think they know that I am here.”
Stan lifted a brow as he met her gaze, heat and mischief flickering in the depths of his dark eyes. Before he could say anything to tease or distract her, she reached up, grabbing the front of his coat and pulling him down closer.
Her lips sought his quickly, desperate to reclaim the kiss they’d so rudely abandoned. He responded instantly. There was nothing tentative now. His fingers slid into her hair as their movements became bolder, though still silent.
Footsteps stirred again beyond the door—retreating, then pausing. Wendy’s breath hitched as she caught Stan’s gaze mid-kiss. It burned with a challenge, one she couldn’t resist any more than she could resist him. When the voices finally faded and a door clicked shut upstairs, Wendy dared to draw back just enough to whisper in his ear.
“Felix and Andre are in their rooms now. Nobody else is on this floor. They can’t hear us.”
Her cheeks flushed even as she said it, the intimacy of their stolen moment swelling in her chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be—but it was real. And it was hers. The moonlight sifted in through the thin curtains, but her resolve didn’t wane.
Stan didn’t reply right away. His gaze held hers, intense and unyielding, before he gave a slow, satisfied smile. The quiet depth of his expression sent a warmth running through her.
Wendy bit her lip and took a careful step backward. She tugged him with her, her lips never quite leaving his as each step lengthened the stretch between them.
He followed her lead anyway, his movements steady even as the tension thickened—that fragile, forbidden sweetness of their secrecy wrapping around them like morning fog.
Her legs hit the edge of the bed, she kissed him again, her hands lingering just a moment longer against his chest before sliding down.
“I won’t do anything even close to the things that require a French letter. But if you allow me, Wendy, I’d like to show you something I don’t think you know about the human body.”
Wendy arched a brow. “Truly?” She whispered.
