Page 89 of The Drama King

I found her in the small dressing room she'd been assigned, struggling with the ties of her corset.

She looked up as I entered, her eyes widening when she saw my expression. Whatever she read there made her take an instinctive step back, but there was nowhere to go in the cramped space.

"Dorian." Her voice was carefully controlled, but I could smell her awareness, the way her pulse had spiked the moment I appeared. "What are you—"

"You felt it too." I closed the door behind me, turning the lock with deliberate precision. "Out there, during the scene. You felt it."

"I don't know what you mean." But her protest was weak, unconvincing, and we both knew it.

"Don't lie to me, Vespera. Not now." I moved closer, close enough to see the way her breath hitched. "I can smell how much you want this."

"This is insane." She pressed back against her dressing table, trapped between me and the mirror. "We can't—there are people—"

"Let them hear." The words came out rough, desperate. "Let them know you're mine."

Something flickered in her eyes: fear, yes, but also want so sharp it made my Alpha instincts sing with triumph. Her scent was intoxicating, rich with arousal and the kind of need that couldn't be faked or hidden.

"You're not thinking clearly," she whispered, but her gaze kept dropping to my mouth.

"I'm thinking clearer than I have in months." I reached out, fingertips tracing the line of her jaw, and felt her shiver. "Tell meyou don't want this. Tell me your body isn't screaming for my touch, and I'll walk away."

She opened her mouth, probably to do exactly that, but when I leaned closer—close enough that my breath ghosted across her lips—the protest died unspoken.

"Dorian," she breathed, and my name on her lips sounded like surrender.

I kissed her.

It wasn't gentle, wasn't careful, wasn't any of the things I'd planned when I'd imagined this moment. It was desperate, consuming, months of denied want poured into the connection between us. She made a sound—surprise, protest, pleasure—and then her hands fisted in my shirt and she was kissing me back with equal desperation.

She tasted like everything I'd been craving, everything I'd been denying myself. Sweet and sharp and perfectly, intoxicatingly her. When I deepened the kiss, she melted against me, her body fitting against mine like she'd been made for this.

"We shouldn't," she gasped against my mouth, even as her hands slid up to tangle in my hair.

"Tell me to stop." I traced kisses along her jaw, down her throat, feeling her pulse flutter against my lips. "Tell me to stop and I will."

But she didn't. Instead, she arched into my touch, her head falling back to give me better access, a soft moan escaping when I found the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder.

My hands found the ties of her corset—the ones she'd been struggling with when I entered—and began working them loose. Each loosened lace revealed more skin, more of her intoxicating scent, more temptation than any Alpha should be expected to resist.

"Someone could come in," she whispered, but her protests were growing weaker, more breathless.

"Let them." I pushed the loosened corset down, exposing the thin chemise underneath, the curves I'd been fantasizing about for months. "Let them see who you belong to."

She shuddered at the possessive words, and I caught the spike in her arousal, the way her body responded to the claim even as her mind fought it.

"I don't belong to anyone," she said, but the words lacked conviction.

"Don't you?" I pulled back to look at her—hair mussed, lips swollen, eyes dark with want she could no longer deny. "Then why are you here? Why are you letting me touch you?"

"Because I'm losing my mind," she admitted, the confession torn from somewhere deep. "Because you've been driving me insane for weeks and I can't think straight anymore."

"Good." I kissed her again, deeper this time, claiming her mouth with all the possessive hunger I'd been suppressing. "I want you lost. I want you desperate. I want you exactly like this."

Her hands tugged at my shirt, clumsy with need, and I helped her, pulling the costume pieces away until there was nothing between us but thin fabric and desperate want. When she ran her palms across my chest, I groaned against her mouth, the simple touch setting every nerve ending on fire.

"This is insane," she repeated, but her hands were exploring, learning the shape of me, and her scent was thick with arousal that made my Alpha instincts roar with satisfaction.

"Say my name," I demanded, hands sliding down to grip her waist, pulling her harder against me.