Page 75 of The Forgotten Queen
“I can’t kiss you until you ask me.”
The crowd seemed to get louder, and so did her pounding heart. They couldn’tnotkiss. Everyone expected it, but Sydria didn’t care. It was more fun to play this game with Marx than the fake relationship game.
She shook her head. “I’m not asking.”
His lips drifted into a smile. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”
She raised a challenging brow, making Marx laugh a little. Slowly he leaned forward, his mouth getting close to hers. The pounding in her heart stopped, replaced by dramatic stillness.
Sydria froze.
Watching.
Waiting.
Marx’s lips skipped past hers, and Sydria’s eyes closed as he gently placed a soft peck on her cheek. The fire behind his touch had her spinning. The crowd erupted in a mixture of cheers and boos as Marx pulled back and stared at her.
“Now for their first dance,” King McKane called above the noise of the crowd. He gestured to the musicians, and a smooth melody began to play.
Marx pulled Sydria to the center of the ballroom as everyone else stepped aside. He looked at Sydria, some kind of emotion funneling through his eyes. “Do you know how to dance?”
“Yes.”
He took her hand while his other arm wrapped around her waist. His whispers tickled the side of her ear. “Sorry, I had to ask. It was only a week ago that you were hiding behind a rock.”
“That’s a fair assessment.”
They glided around the room in perfect harmony, everyone watching from the edges. She caught a glimpse of King McKane craning his neck to see them. Since they hadn’t kissed, Sydria should do something else to convince him of their happily ever after. Perhaps she should rest her head on Marx’s shoulder.
She had it!—the perfect thing.
Slowly her fingers began skimming the back of Marx’s neck the way Cheney had been doing moments ago, but Sydria’s tickles didn’t look as natural as Cheney’s had. Her tickles looked more like she was scraping her nails on the side of a chalkboard.
Marx leaned in. “Alert the newswriters. My wife has initiated neck caressing.”
“It’s awful, isn’t it?” she whispered, stopping her scratches. “I don’t know how to flirt.”
He raised a playful brow. “Is it really that difficult to flirt with me?”
“It’s not even that. It’s that I don’t knowwhatto do.”
He leaned in closer, and his lips brushed up against her ear as he spoke. “When you like someone, it’s all about proximity.” His hand tightened around her waist as he pulled her toward him, diminishing the gap between them. Sydria’s heart pounded at full speed. “It’s about getting the person as physically close to you as you can. So close that you become one.” Her hands gripped his shoulders and neck tighter as he enveloped her with his arms, pulling her flush against his chest. “Because when you like someone, you don’t want to let them go.”
If proximity was what Marx was after, he’d achieved it. Their bodies meshed together. They moved as one with accelerated breaths and heated feelings. She clung to his suit jacket as they swayed together, lost on the dance floor.
The music stopped, and the crowd around them clapped in approval. They pulled apart, and Sydria eyes darted around the room at the smiling faces.
Another memory swept across her mind.
She’d done this before too.
Déjà vu.
“Let’s leave the party on a high,” Marx said, grabbing her hand.
She looked up at him. “What?”
His lips quirked upward. “Unless you want to dance with me again.”
