At least tomorrow he would get to see Lilly. He couldn’t bloody wait to lose himself in Lilly’s laugh.
Johanna tugged the neckline up. “Do you know how to waltz? I don’t. It’s not exactly something they taught us in public school.”
“I know what to do. Just follow my lead,” he assured her, squeezing her hand. And…if I lead you into the bedroom, just strip. Simple. “It’ll be fun.”
“Okay.”
The orchestra cued up, and as one the partygoers all headed onto the dance floor. Damon led Johanna to an open space, placing her before him. Excitement and nervousness darted across her face; he smiled. Her gaze flitted over the dancers surrounding them.
“Did you know that the waltz was once considered too bold for the ballroom? It was thought to be a form of seduction, too risqué for a debutante.”
“Good thing I’m not a debutante, then,” she whispered in his ear, her hot breath sending every last drop of blood straight south.
Her fingers shook in his, but her eyes twinkled. His breath caught in his throat. Gorgeous. Enticing. And his, if only briefly. “First I bow.” He bowed at his waist, never taking his eyes from hers. “And then you curtsy.”
With a smile, she dipped into a flawless curtsy. Her eyes enthralled him, and he swallowed heavily.
Anticipation made his palms sweaty as he held his hand out to her and said, “Excellent! Put your hand in mine.”
When she slid her hand into his, he pulled her into his arms.
“Now put your other hand here, on my arm, right under my shoulder.”
He clasped her side, right next to her breast and under her arm. She jerked, cheeks flushing when his palm brushed bare flesh.
“A-are you sure that’s right?” she asked, exhaling. She glanced around them. “Oh. It is.”
Leaning down, he pressed his cheek to hers and whispered, “Now do you see why it was forbidden?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Hm,” he breathed, rubbing his cheek against hers before pulling back into position. “Now, I take two steps back, and we take off.”
“What?”
Her eyes widened when he began to spin her in elaborate circles across the ballroom. No matter what happened in the next year, he would never forget this moment. Her laughter as they twirled down the dance floor washed over him. He whipped her around the room, taking every opportunity he could to pull her even closer to his body until her br**sts brushed against his chest. If he had any luck left, he’d kept her too busy for her to notice everyone else danced at a more respectable distance.
He danced her into the shadows, concealing her from curious onlookers.
She glanced past his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “Um, why are we back here?”
“Because I promised you an authentic waltz. Do you know what usually happened when a rakish earl danced with a lady he desired?” He trailed a finger down over her jaw line. The softness of her skin taunted him. He ached to touch every last inch of her…to know her.
Her eyes widened, and she stepped closer to him. “Show me,” she whispered.
Groaning, he backed her up to the wall, capturing her lips hungrily. Greedily. She had tormented him, brushed him aside, for far too long for him to be gentle. His tongue met hers, stroking as his hands crept up her waist to her bosom.
He traced the line of her cle**age before closing his palms around her, his thumbs toying with her ni**les through the thin fabric. Her whimpers urged him on, made him hungry for more. He rubbed his hips against her and groaned.
Consuming need took control. The need to claim her. The need to keep her to himself, for always.
“I need you,” he whispered.
She nodded, grabbing his hand. Her eyes were a dark blue, stormy and riotous. “Yes. Now.”
His heart pounding a rapid staccato in his ears, he let her lead him across the floor, practically dragging him toward the exit. Bloody hell, he wouldn’t last more than a minute in bed with her if this continued.
A man stepped in her path. Damon collided with Johanna’s back, catching her by the arms before she could hit the floor. Her flush faded to a ghostly pallor.
“Are you okay?” Damon asked.
“The lady is fine.”
Red hot anger pumped through Damon’s veins. Johanna’s ex, Tim.
Bloody hell.
“What are you doing here?” Damon snarled. “I’d think rabble like you wouldn’t be allowed past security.”
“I’m here because I bought a ticket, Sherlock. Too bad I stopped you two.” Tim leaned forward to whisper, “She doesn’t often get in the mood.”
Red blurred his vision, and Damon snarled, “Get out of our way.”
Johanna jerked him back, scowling at Tim. “Don’t bother, Damon. He’ll leave. He only likes beating on smaller people.
Isn’t that right, Tim?”
Tim flushed, stepping back to straighten his clothing.
“Good luck with her. She’s not worth the trouble, I assure you.”
“Go to hell, or I’ll put you there myself.” Damon’s fists clenched. He’d love to crush the man into a bloody pulp, but instead focused on his wife. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fi—”
Sauntering past them, Tim strode a few paces away before stopping to glance over his shoulder. “Tell me, Johanna. Do you know where he goes every Sunday? I do.”
Johanna froze. “I have an idea, yes.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that he goes to see her, but doesn’t tell you what she is? Who she is?”
Damon couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. How did this… this monster find out about Lilly? How could he know?
Damon would kill him. He wouldn’t stop until that foul creature breathed his last. Snarling, he stalked after Tim.
Something, or someone, tugged at his elbow.
Snarling, he whirled to face his attacker. Johanna stumbled back from him, eyes wide.
Slowly, the pounding in his skull shrank away, and his fists lowered. Great, he’d managed to give Johanna another reason to mistrust him.
“I’m sorry,” he managed. “Let’s go to our room.”
Striding to her side, he offered his arm with one last look at Tim. Soon, that man would get his full attention. But not here. Not now.
…
Johanna didn’t know what to think. Damon had gotten so angry at what Tim said. Obviously this woman he visited held a place in his heart.
And it hurt. Oh, God, did it hurt.