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Cleo groaned. “Joy.”

Darcy hesitated for just a moment, then placed her hand in mine. The contact sent electricity racing up my arm. I led her through the crowd toward the dance floor, weaving between tables and guests until we found an open space near the center.

The cello dragged a dark, dangerous note that had me pulling her closer. My hand found the small of her back, fingers pressing against the bare skin exposed by her dress. She shivered slightly at the contact.

“Cold?” I murmured.

“No.” Her voice was breathy. “Definitely not cold.”

We began to move, finding the rhythm together. She was a better dancer than I expected, following my lead with grace and fluidity.

“You’re full of surprises, Corwin,” I said.

“I took ballroom lessons as a teenager.” She tilted her head, those blue eyes catching the light through her mask. “My father thought it would be useful for events like this.”

“Remind me to thank him.”

She laughed softly. That sound made it hard to breathe.

We danced in silence for a moment, our bodies moving closer with each turn. Her hand on my shoulder tightened slightly. My thumb traced small circles against her spine. The air between us grew thick. Hell, the entire dance floor was caught up in a haze of lust.

“People are watching,” she whispered.

“Let them watch.”

I pulled her closer still, until our bodies were nearly flush. I could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her dress. Her perfume was earthy and floral. I knew the scent. Black Orchid. And it fucking worked on her. It was intoxicating in the most unexpected way. I didn’t care for florals, but on her, it was perfect. Her breath caught as my hand slid lower on her back.

“Beau.”

“Just dancing,” I said, though we both knew it was more than that.

The music swelled. I spun her gently, watching the way her dress flared around her ankles. When I pulled her back, she came willingly, her body pressing against mine. Her hand moved from my shoulder to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair.

“You’re playing with fire,” she murmured.

“Maybe I like getting burned.”

Her eyes grew heavy-lidded. I could see her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat, quick and unsteady. The same rhythm my own heart was beating.

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against her ear. “You’re beautiful tonight. Have I mentioned that?”

“Once or twice.”

“Let me mention it again.” I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “You’re the most stunning woman in this room. In any room.”

Her cheeks flushed, a lighter shade of her dress. “You don’t have to keep flattering me. We’re already convincing enough.”

“This isn’t flattery. It’s truth.”

The music shifted into something even slower, more intimate. The violinist dragged the bow across the strings in a mournful sound that gripped your very soul. Around us, other couples swayed in their own private worlds, but I barely noticed them. My entire focus had narrowed to the woman in my arms.

Darcy’s hand moved from my neck to my jaw, her thumb tracing along my cheekbone. The touch was light, exploratory, like she was memorizing the shape of my face.

“The mask suits you,” she said softly. “The fox.”

“Yeah?”

“Clever. Quick. Always thinking three steps ahead.” Her fingers traced the edge of the mask where it met my skin. “But also loyal. Protective of what’s theirs.”