Too much.
But if that was what she was going to offer then he was going to take it. It fitted with what he had planned. Hell, it fitted with what he wanted, and he was having a hard time remembering what he’d planned when what he wanted was beating at the inside of his head like a pounding headache.
‘I’d love to dance.’
She held her hand up towards him, and what could he do but take it? They turned towards the dance floor, made their way into an open space. They had just a few moments of the light-hearted waltz that was being played. Enough time to take up the correct position, his arm at her waist, and, as soon as they had, the dance came to a halt, the music stopped.
‘Well...’
Alyse laughed, slanting an amused glance at their still linked hands, the careful positioning of their arms. But she didn’t make any move to turn away, to break his hold. Instead she stayed where she was, eyes the bright green of purest emeralds as she looked up into his face.
‘I still want to dance...’
Dario didn’t give a damn about the dancing. But if it meant that she stayed here like this, hands touching, close to him, so that he could see the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed, watch the colour come and go in her cheeks, inhale the warm soft scent of her body as it came up to him with his head bent down towards hers, then he wasn’t going to be the first to break away. So he stayed where he was and waited.
Luckily the next dance was another waltz and, after a couple of seconds counting the beat, Alyse launched into the steps, swaying sensuously, taking him with her. She was incredibly light-footed, barely seeming to touch the floor as she drifted over it.
* * *
I still want to dance...
Her own words echoed inside Alyse’s head, but she hardly recognised them for what they were. In that moment she had felt as if her mind was suddenly assailed by a multitude of sensations, buzzing and fizzing through her thoughts.
She hadn’t just wanted to dance. She had been overwhelmed by an uncontrollable hunger to dance with this man. To feel his hand in hers, his arms around her. And it had nothing to do with the idea that had been in her mind when she had first seen him. The wild plan to find someone who would help her put Marcus off. Who would—hopefully—stop his intent pursuit of her when nothing else had worked.
But this had nothing to do with that. It had only and everything to do with Dario Olivero and the man he was. The man who had knocked her off balance from the moment she had first seen him and from then it felt as if her mind was not her own.
‘Dario...’ She tried out his name, feeling it as strange on her tongue, catching on her lips. But it was swallowed up in the melody they were dancing to. ‘Dario...’ she tried again, louder this time.
The dark head bent, blue eyes connecting with hers, searing off a protective layer of skin so that she felt everything—every touch, every movement, the warmth of his breath as it stirred her hair with a new and shocking intensity. She didn’t know how she moved her feet, only managing to keep to the steps of the dance by pure instinct as her gaze locked with his.
‘You dance very well...’ she managed, a tumble of words over a tongue that was thickened with tension and awareness. ‘More than well,’ she added and felt rather than heard the rumble of laughter in his chest so close to her ear.
‘It’s a bit late to realise that,’ he teased softly. ‘What if I had two left feet and trampled you underfoot from the moment we started?’
I wouldn’t have minded. She had to clamp her lips shut fast to stop the words escaping from her unguarded mouth. She didn’t feel as if her feet belonged to her anyway. She could almost have been hovering six inches above the floor, her steps so light and beyond her control.
‘Then relax.’
‘I am relaxed.’
He didn’t respond—at least not verbally but the slow lifting of one dark brow to question her comment made her heart kick in stunned reaction. Her mind might be whirling in sensation, but her body was holding itself straight and upright as she had been taught in the dance classes her mother had insisted on at the exclusive school she’d attended. The distance between their bodies was tiny—barely there.
But then she looked up into those stunning blue eyes and her heart skipped a beat. There was so much less of that blue there now, the enlarged black of his pupils swallowing up all the colour until his gaze was like a lake of black glass in which she could see herself reflected, small and so very vulnerable. She lost time for a moment, and almost stumbled. She might have tripped if it hadn’t been for the strength of the arms supporting her, the width and power of the broad shoulder under her hand.