Page 147 of Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 10

A lexander tried to keep his breathing steady as he guided Genevieve across the floor. The weight of the eyes around them was heavy. He could feel them, watching, gossiping behind polite smiles. The wayward Duke of Harbeck dancing with the Lady Genevieve Carrington? It was enough to ignite talk throughout the ton for weeks.

His reputation had already been tarnished by his absence from society and now again because he was out so quickly after his father’s death, and now, with Genevieve in his arms, he knew it would only add fuel to the fire.

But none of that mattered now. Not with her so close.

His hand rested at the small of her back, and despite every warning in his mind, he found himself pulling her just a fraction closer, enough to feel the warmth of her body through the fabric of her gown. He knew he should not. He knew this was dangerous. She was a lady of high standing, and a dance like this could be misconstrued—especially with their history.

Yet he could not stop himself.

The scent of her perfume—a soft lavender—filled his senses, and the brush of her hand against his sent a heat through his chest. Her posture was tense at first, her movements rigid, but as the music flowed, so did the tension. She relaxed into him slightly, and the intimacy of their connection only grew.

Damn it.

He knew what people would say. He knew what this looked like. But at that moment, with her pressed against him, it was impossible to think of anything but the way she felt in his arms. It was like they had stepped back in time, back to the days before everything had fallen apart, back when the only thing that mattered was the way they moved together.

And there was something else too, something simmering beneath the surface. The tension that had been building between them ever since his return was palpable now, thickening the air around them. The friction between them was undeniable, like a flame sparking to life with every step, every subtle brush of skin.

His grip on her waist tightened for just a moment, instinctively, before he forced himself to loosen it. He could not let himself hold her too close. Not here. Not like this. But it was nearly impossible to resist the pull. His hand burned where it touched her, and the heat spread, growing with each turn they made.

“Alexander,” Genevieve whispered, her breath warm against his neck as they turned again.

He met her gaze, finding her eyes wide and dark, filled with something he could not quite name. What had once been anger and resentment was now something far more dangerous. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she moved against him.

And it was killing him.

He could barely breathe. Each moment, each step, drew her closer to him, and it took every ounce of control not to pull her against him fully, not to let himself indulge in the feelings he had buried for so long. But he could not. He would not.

People were watching. The ton thrived on gossip, and if they saw this, saw the way his hand lingered on her waist, the way he was holding her just a little too intimately—her reputation would be ruined. She would never be able to walk away unscathed.

And yet…

The friction between them sparked again as they moved, her body so perfectly in sync with his that it was as though no time had passed at all. He could feel her trembling, though whether it was from nerves or something more, he could not tell. He tried to ease the tension with a quiet whisper, though his voice was hoarse from the strain of his own emotions.

“Genevieve,” he murmured, his hand tightening just slightly on her waist again. “We should not be doing this.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice equally strained. But she did not pull away. In fact, she stepped closer, their bodies almost brushing fully against each other. The connection between them was electric now, the tension impossible to ignore. Every breath he took seemed to match hers, their movements perfectly aligned.

His gaze dropped to her lips for a split second, a dangerous thought flashing through his mind. He could kiss her right now. He could lean in, capture her mouth with his, and the world would fade away, the storm outside, the ballroom, the prying eyes—none of it would matter.

But he could not.

The dance continued, the music swelling as they turned again, and Alexander’s heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the heat of her body, the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, and it was driving him mad. Every step they took together felt like a struggle to hold on to the last threads of control.

They were moving faster now, the tempo of the music increasing, and the tension between them reached its peak. Her breathing was quick, her lips parted as though she was struggling for air just as much as he was. The friction, the heat between them, was building to a crescendo, and he could feel his resolve crumbling with every turn, every subtle shift of her body against his.

By the time the final notes of the music played, they were both breathless, barely able to maintain their composure. They stopped moving, but for a moment, neither of them stepped away. They stood there, so close that he could feel her chest rise and fall against his, her pulse quickening in sync with his own.

The room around them faded back into focus, and Alexander was acutely aware of the eyes watching them. He knew he should step back and put some distance between them before anyone could whisper a word, but he could not move. He could not bring himself to break the connection.

Genevieve looked up at him, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world did not exist. It was just them, standing in the center of the ballroom, their hearts pounding in unison, the tension between them a living, breathing thing.

But then, Genevieve stepped back, and her hand slipped from his. Immediately, Alexander felt the loss of her touch like a physical blow.

They stood there, staring at each other, both of them struggling to regain their composure. The dance was over, but the flames that had sparked between them were still smoldering, impossible to extinguish.

And as the whispers began to spread through the room, Alexander knew that this night had changed everything.