Xavier's hand traced a slow, deliberate path down her spine, each movement tugging her closer until she could feel the solid warmth of his body pressed to hers.
The room felt smaller, the fire hotter, the air charged with the kind of energy that promised nothing in this world would be the same after tonight.
Camilla's lips were still tingling from his kiss, her skin humming as his fingers grazed the edge of her loosened bodice. He could so easily pull it the rest of the way down, and she wasn't sure she'd stop him if he tried.
"This is madness," she whispered.
His smirk was pure sin. "Then let's be mad."
She should have laughed, but the way he said it made her knees weak. His mouth found the hollow of her throat, each brush of his lips a slow-burning brand. She tilted her head back, her breath catching, her fingers curling into his shirt.
He was going to ruin her — and she wanted him to.
The doorknob rattled.
They broke apart, the silence between them shattered by the sudden sound of voices in the hall.
"Lord Xavier? Are you in there?"
It was his mother's voice.
Camilla's heart lurched. Her bodice hung loose, her hair tumbled over her shoulders in a way no respectable woman would dare appear. She scrambled to tighten the laces, but Xavier caught her wrists gently, his eyes flashing with mischief and promise.
"Relax," he murmured. "I'll handle it."
"Handle it?" she hissed, panic whispering through her veins.
He gave her one last lingering glance — the kind that said this isn't over — before striding to the door and cracking it open just enough to block her from view.
"Yes, Mother?" His voice was smooth, casual.
"Your brother is asking for you," came the reply. "The guests are wondering where you've vanished to."
"I'll be there shortly."
A pause. Then the sound of retreating footsteps.
He closed the door, turning back to her with a grin that made her stomach twist. "Looks like you've been saved, Camilla Fairbourne."
"Saved?" she breathed. "Or denied?"
His gaze darkened, his jaw tightening in a way that made her pulse race. "Both."
She grabbed her necklace from the table, her fingers trembling. "We should… go back."
He stepped toward her once more, but stopped just shy of touching. "We will. But when I see you again…" His voice dropped to a promise, "…there will be no interruptions."
Her breath caught — because she knew he meant it.