Page 59 of Adeline

She knew when he gave in, threw caution to the wind, and stepped closer to her.

Adeline did not question it nor give Jasper time to change his mind as she moved her lips against his and pressed her body close until they touched from chest to hips.

There was no line crossed, no warning given, no change in tempo, but suddenly, it was Jasper who commanded, led, tempted her further. His hands settled on her waist, lifting slightly, and her toes barely felt the ground beneath her. They were so close, she felt his heartbeat against her bosom as he claimed her lips, setting the pace as his tongue darted across her lower lip.

She’d never kissed a man before, had never met a male worthy of a stolen embrace, but her body knew what to do as she parted her lips and allowed his tongue to explore. Every instinct told her they’d done this a million times before: pressed their bodies close, sealed their lips. And she could not let him go. Adeline’s hands clutched at his shoulders, kneading them as his mouth moved with hers.

This connection between them was more than the sum of them together.

He was everything, and without him, she would be reduced to nothing.

Less than nothing.

His need for her was evident in the hard length pressed to her midsection, obvious even through their many layers of clothes.

Did Jasper know she wanted this, too—likely far more than even he?

Heat coursed through her, pooling at her core as if it waited for something, but what, Adeline was uncertain.

Suddenly, something pulled her away from Jasper, their bodies stumbling apart, and her hands ripped from his shoulders.

But no, it wasn’t something pulling them apart, it was Jasper pushing her away.

Adeline found his stare in the darkened evening, and she searched for her answer, but his gaze was hooded as he hid from her and returned to the man he’d been for over a decade.

Jasper had not only kept himself physically hidden from others, but he’d also kept himself sequestered emotionally.

Did he not realize she would never harm him? Did he have no understanding of how he affected her?

She reached out toward him, her stare begging him to return to her, but he only took another step back. The light escaping the ballroom at his back cast a menacing shadow over her. His eyes were wild and frantic as his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

He appeared the beast his people claimed him to be.

But Adeline knew the truth of the matter…

Jasper was her beast.

And she would have him as hers, no matter the consequences or hardships to come.

Chapter 23

Every muscle in Jasper’s body tensed as light, melodic female laughter sounded at his back, followed by the deep voice of a man questioning what the commotion was on the terrace—the cultured London drawl so different from his people in Kent. His best chance for saving Adeline’s reputation was to keep whoever sought to invade their private moment behind him and out of view of Adeline, or more accurately, keep Adeline hidden from the gawking crowd.

His drive was to pivot toward the interlopers and demand they retrace their steps into the ballroom, forget anything they’d seen, and never breathe a word to anyone.

However, that would draw far more attention as the sight of a beast was difficult to forget in the country, and likely all but impossible when seen in a London ballroom.

Jasper took a calming breath, his exhale visible in the dropping temperatures.

Adeline shook before him, and he resisted the urge to go to her, to wrap her in his embrace once more and banish any chill that threatened her.

He hadn’t wanted to embarrass her, especially on her birthday. But this—being caught in his embrace on the terrace—would lead to far more than mere embarrassment. It could ruin her and her family. Make her name synonymous with compromised and unmarriageable.

Had she heard the rumbling of discourse behind him?

Her eyes widened, and she attempted to side-step him, but he moved effortlessly to keep her blocked from view.

She’d heard the laughter, too. The hissed questions about what was happening on the terrace. The start of gossip long before the guilty parties were even so much as identified.