Page 148 of Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 11

L aughter and chatter echoed through the ballroom, but for Genevieve, the room felt like a blur of faces and meaningless conversation. After that dance with Alexander, she’d barely been able to think straight. The heat, the tension between them—it had been overwhelming, impossible to ignore.

She had thought she could handle it. She had thought she could maintain her distance, that her years of anger and the wall she’d built around her heart would be enough to keep him at bay. But the moment his hand had touched her waist, the moment their bodies had moved together like they always had—it was as though time had rewound, bringing everything back. The anger, the pain, the longing.

And the worst part? She had not wanted to pull away.

Genevieve slipped away from the gathering, her heart pounding in her chest as she moved through the shadowy hallways of the manor. She needed air. She needed to be alone to think, to clear her head. But the further she walked, the more she found herself spiraling deeper into the feelings she had tried so hard to bury.

Before she knew it, she had stumbled into one of the hidden alcoves just off the main hallway, a small, secluded space that had been her refuge as a child. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and trying to catch her breath, but all she could think about was Alexander. The way he had held her, the way his gaze had lingered on her lips, the way he had looked at her as if she was the only person in the room.

The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts, and she opened her eyes just in time to see him—Alexander—standing in the doorway of the alcove, his face shadowed but unmistakable.

Her heart jumped into her throat, her pulse quickening. “Alexander,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His eyes met hers, dark and intense, and at that moment, she knew there was no turning back. Whatever tension had been simmering between them, whatever emotions had been left unspoken for years, it was all about to come crashing down.

“I thought you might come here,” he said, his voice low and rough, as though he, too, was fighting to keep his composure.

Genevieve’s breath caught. The hidden alcove had always been a secret place, a spot she had shared with only a few, and the fact that he had known where to find her sent a shiver down her spine. “Why did you follow me?”

He stepped closer, the space between them shrinking with each second. His gaze was intense, focused entirely on her, and the weight of his presence was suffocating in the best possible way. “Because we cannot keep pretending, Genevieve. Not after tonight.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, the heat between them palpable. She took a step back, but the wall was at her back, trapping her, and Alexander moved closer until there was almost no space between them at all.

“Pretending what?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

He did not hesitate. “That we do not still feel this.”

His words hit her like a wave, destroying her defenses. He was right. She had been pretending. Pretending that her anger was enough to keep him out. Pretending that she had not felt that spark of desire every time their eyes met. Pretending that she did not want this—want him—as much as she had all those years ago.

Her breath hitched, and she shook her head, trying to resist the pull between them. “You left me, Alexander. You broke me.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “And I have hated myself for it every day since. But I cannot change the past, Genevieve. All I can do is tell you that I have never stopped wanting you. Never.”

Her heart ached with the weight of his words, the raw emotion in his voice sending a shockwave through her. She wanted to push him away, to cling to the anger that had protected her for so long. But the way he looked at her, the way he had always looked at her, made it impossible to hold on to that anger.

Before she could say another word, Alexander closed the distance between them, his hand coming up to cup her face. His touch was gentle yet electric, and she felt herself trembling beneath his fingers.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

And then, before she could protest, before she could even think, his lips crashed against hers.

The kiss was nothing like she had imagined it would be after all these years. It was not soft, or slow, or tentative. It was fiery, desperate, filled with years of pent-up longing and frustration. His lips moved against hers with a hunger that left her breathless, and she found herself melting into him, her body betraying her mind.

Her hands reached up, gripping his jacket as she pulled him closer, the need for him consuming her entirely. The heat between them was unbearable, the friction of their bodies sparking flames that threatened to engulf them both. Every inch of her burned for him, the years of anger and longing exploding into a moment of pure, unbridled passion.

Alexander pressed her back against the wall, his hands roaming down her sides as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against hers in a way that sent a shiver of pleasure through her. She gasped into his mouth, her body arching toward his as though every part of her craved him.

The years of distance between them seemed to dissolve at that moment. There was no past, no heartbreak, no anger—only the two of them, their bodies entwined, their kisses growing more heated, more desperate with each passing second.

He pulled away just enough to whisper against her lips, his voice ragged and filled with desire. “Tell me to stop, Genevieve. If you want me to stop, just say the word.”

But she could not. She did not want him to stop. Not now. Not after everything. The fire inside her was too strong, too consuming, and the feel of his lips, his body against hers, was everything she had been trying so hard to forget.

“I do not want you to stop,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

With a growl of approval, Alexander’s lips crashed against hers again, more fervent, more intense than before. His hands slid down to her hips, gripping her firmly as he pressed his body against hers, the heat between them almost unbearable. She moaned softly against his lips, her mind hazy with desire, her body trembling with the need for him.

The storm, the ballroom, the guests—none of it mattered anymore. There was only Alexander, only this moment, and the years of anger and longing that had finally ignited into a fire too powerful to extinguish.