Her waist was slender and soft, and a faint, fresh scent lingered around her—a subtle allure that tugged at the senses.
Dominic's eyes darkened, his grip on her tightening for a heartbeat before he released her with gentlemanly restraint.
Cynthia could still feel the imprint of his touch, her skin tingling with the residual heat he'd left behind.
Under the weight of her own imagination, she bit her lower lip, cheeks and ears burning even hotter.
She didn't dare look up at the man standing so close, afraid she'd be caught in those fathomless, ink-dark eyes of his.
"Thank you," she managed, her voice coming out soft and a little hoarse.
Dominic glanced down at her, his tone low and teasing. "Is it that captivating?"
Cynthia's thoughts drifted, and she nodded on instinct—then caught herself and quickly shook her head.
He's trying to trip me up!
How could she possibly enjoy something so scandalous? The decor here was outrageously bold, art and sculptures everywhere depicting intertwined bodies; she was just forced to look, that was all.
Dominic watched her, a faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
"I never imagined Miss Tremaine's tastes were so… unconventional."
Cynthia shook her head, eager to deny it. "No, not at all."
Dominic chuckled softly. "If that's true, why couldn't you look away? You nearly missed the stairs back there."
Cynthia offered a weak, embarrassed smile. "It was an accident. Really."
Dominic leaned in closer, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Once is an accident. Twice—are you sure about that?"
Cynthia: "…"
If it wasn't an accident, what was it?
She finally looked up, meeting his eyes and catching the hint of mockery there. The realization hit her all at once.
"Mr. Holloway—" she started, but he cut her off.
"If you're planning to fall into my arms again, Miss Tremaine, try to be a bit more careful about when and where you do it. Places like this…it's easy for things to get out of hand."
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