"Aurora—"
"Five minutes. That's all I'm asking." She meets my eyes, and I see the same hunger I'm feeling reflected back at me. "Five minutes alone with you."
This is a terrible idea.
"Five minutes," I hear myself say.
She walks away first. I wait exactly ninety seconds—long enough to look casual, not long enough for me to change my mind—then follow.
The garden's darker, quieter. Hedges block the view from the main party. There's a bench, some sculptures, and the sound of water from a nearby fountain.
Aurora's waiting.
I don't say anything. Just cross to her, cup her face in my hands, and kiss her like I'm dying and she's oxygen.
She moans into my mouth, her hands grabbing my jacket, pulling me closer. We're frantic, desperate, like we both know this might be our last chance.
"We shouldn't—" she gasps between kisses.
"I know."
"If anyone sees—"
"I know."
"But I can't—I can't stop thinking about you—"
"I know." I back her against the hedge, press my body against hers so she can feel exactly how hard I am. "I've been hard for you since I left your room. Can't focus. Can't think. Just you."
She whimpers, her hips rolling against mine. "Axel—"
"Tell me to stop." I'm kissing her neck, her shoulder, anywhere I can reach. "Tell me this is insane and we need to stop."
"It's insane."
"And?"
"And I don't care."
My hand slides up her thigh, finds the slit in her dress. Her skin is hot, smooth. She's not wearing stockings.
Fucking hell.
"Tell me something," I growl against her throat. "Are you wet for me right now?"
"Yes."
I slide my hand higher, feel her trembling. "Show me."
She doesn't hesitate. Guides my hand between her legs, and—
Christ.
She's soaked through her underwear. I can feel the heat of her, the dampness, and it takes every ounce of control not to rip the fabric off and take her right here.
"Please," she whimpers.
"Please what?"