She spun around the room in his arms. Barely conscious of her feet. Lost in the closeness of his eyes. The warmth from his face. A building warmth in her loins. Tingling desire wreathing her thighs and abdomen. Could they see her heart beating? Deep pulsing thuds beneath her breasts. Could they see her lips swollen and yearning for his touch?
If only they could be alone. She ached to give him her tongue again in that oh so shocking kiss he had taught her, but her family were watching with sharp eyes. This one last dance all they could share before she was bundled off to the country and her hearts death.
She could not imagine ever feeling this way again.
(for some reason my brain is off in Barbara Cartland/Regency Romance land today *???* mostly what goes through my brain if trapped into dancing is: shit what do i do now, did i just stand on his foot, is there someone behind me, i hate stepping backwards, christ i hope he doesn't try to dip me - they always drop me when they dip me, etc)
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