Page 58 of Fallen Heir

Stopping just a breath away, I dipped my head low, my voice a rumble meant for her alone. “Careful, Miss Sinclair. The way you look tonight might make a man want to skip this event altogether.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to. That look in her eyes—that soft, startled pull toward me—was louder than any flirtation. She wasn’t hiding a thousand miles away behind a phone like she’d been when she sent that text. Now, she was here. And I could test her limits.

I held out my hand, palm up.

An invitation. A challenge. A promise.

“Dance with me.”

She blinked, caught off guard.

There was a beat—a breath, a moment of hesitation that made my chest tighten—Then, without a word, she placed her hand in mine.

Soft. Willing. Sure.

The jolt that passed between us was instant.

But I didn’t let go. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

I led her onto the dance floor as the music shifted into something low and smoky—a jazz melody dripping in sin and seduction.

It wrapped around us like fog.

Slow. Haunting. Heavy with everything we hadn’t said.

She never said a word. Neither did I.

But in that silence, something passed between us. Something louder than words.

Not until I had one hand on her lower back and the other clutching her hand against my chest. Not until her body settled against mine, velvet brushing suit fabric, her heels bringing her almost level with my mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

She looked up at me, caught somewhere between suspicious and breathless—like she didn’t know whether to run or melt into me.

I leaned in. “And not the kind of beautiful people say when they want something,” I murmured, letting my lips ghost over the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. “The kind that ruins a man. The kind that keeps him up at night.”

Her breath hitched—just the way it had that night when I kissed every inch of her.

When I touched her like she was sacred. And tasted her like a man starving.

I smiled against her skin, already losing my grip. “Every man in this room wishes he could have what I do,” I said, letting my fingers slide just a little lower along her back, inching toward dangerous territory.

“Even if they don’t know what it is.”

I do. I knewexactlywhat I had.

The still feel of her body under mine.

The sound of her moans in my ear. The way she shattered—strong and soft, all at once. She trembled in my arms—and this time, she didn’t pull away.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t hide.

My mouth found the curve of her neck, not quite kissing, just tracing heat along her pulse point. I remembered how that pulse had throbbed against my lips when she came for me—how her fingers dug into my back like I was the only thing holding her together.

For one second, I forgot everything else.