I need to step away from this woman.
I drop my hand, fisting it at my side, then letting my fingers flex, but I don’t step away.
“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning a little closer as if she means to hug me, and the scent of her perfume hits me afresh.
This time, I know exactly why it made me think of Delirium: because that’s where I was the last time I smelt it. The woman from that night wore this exact scent. God, I’ve hardly thought of her since Diana took up residence in my mind, occupying all the space, but now, here she is, memories swirling.
What an unbearable coincidence.
Before I can process what’s happening, Diana shifts, and her lips meet mine. It’s an awkward collision of mouths, a grazing of lip to lip. Her mouth is both soft and hesitant, yielding like she wants it, but unsure and afraid to stake her claim.
This cannot happen. Not now. Not tonight. Not ever.
And yet I want it, more than anything.
My muscles lock with tension as my awareness swings between the present moment and the night at Delirum. My thoughts are a mess, scattered by the touch of her lips to mine and the scent of her perfume. I’m mentally floating in a sea of confusion, possibilities andwhat ifs.
But as the tip of her tongue slips between my lips and glides against my own, I forget all about Delirium and the woman I met there, because Diana ishere, kissing me, and a desire more intense than anything I’ve ever felt ignites in my bloodstream.
25
DIANA
Oh, holy shit. What have I done?
My heart is beating so hard, my chest feels like it’s going to explode. His lips are stiff, unyielding, and I pull back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
He’s staring at me, his gorgeous mouth half open, his eyes wide. He looks stunned, and not in a good way. More like he’s been shot up the arse with a cattle prod.
This feels worse than fucking him. Because this is me and him.Diana and Mr Bastion. Diana and Rafe.This isreal.
I want to run away, but I force myself to stand my ground and face the mess I’ve made.
“Sorry. I don’t… I don’t know what I was thinking.” I’m stammering like a nervous fool, and he’s still not saying anything, staring at me like he’s about to have a mental breakdown. “You were being so kind. I-I’m sorry.”
He drags a hand through his hair and rests it on the back of his neck. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen that little furrow between his eyebrows look this deep. Maybe I’ve broken him.Shit.
“It’s okay. It’s fine,” he says again.
“Really?”
“Yes.” He rubs his fingers over his lips, then his thumb trails back the way they came, his focus shifting inward as though he’s raking over thoughts he can’t share before he snaps back to me. “I know you didn’t mean it. I know…”
His sentence drifts to nothingness, and another apology slips from me. “I’m sorry.”
“Please.” He makes a slicing gesture with one hand. “Stop saying you’re sorry.”
I wet my lips and nod, worried I’ve pissed him off.
He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, pointing back the way we came. There’s no softness in his expression. “We should go in. Lizzie will be wondering where we are.”
“You go,” I say. “I’ll see you in there. I want to…” I gesture towards the bathrooms further down the corridor.
He doesn’t move, warring emotions skating across his face. I suspect he wants to stay, perhaps wants to say something to make this better, but what is there to say, other than what we’ve already said? What can he do now, while people are waiting for him to show his face at his daughter’s goodbye party?