‘Relax,’ he ordered, his warm breath against her ear, sending rivulets of pleasurable pulses down the line of her neck.
Cassidy lifted her gaze to find that he was staring down at her with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. ‘We’re just dancing.’
It didn’t feel as if they were just dancing, and she couldn’t relax. ‘I can’t,’ she said, wriggling a little in his grasp. ‘You’re holding me too close.’
‘Stop trying to get away and I won’t.’
Taking a breath, she did as he suggested, only to find that instead of easing his grip he inched her closer.
‘I thought you said—’
‘Dancing is much better when it’s done in silence,’ he murmured, his hand smoothing down her spine to rest on her lower back.
Her breath hitched in her chest at the caress, every one of her senses in a silent battle of wills with her self-preservation instincts. ‘Your guests are already wondering why I’m here,’ she said, ignoring his edict to keep quiet. ‘If you don’t let me have enough room to breathe, you’ll start unnecessary gossip.’
And Cassidy knew intimately that gossip could destroy a person’s reputation, and that Logan in particular could not afford to create any for himself. Arrantino stocks had not only started to recover once Logan had confirmed that he would become King but had bounced even higher than before.
‘You have room to breathe,’ he said.
Yes, she did, but every time she drew air into her lungs her breasts brushed against his jacket and it only made her want to press closer.
Realising that she would give too much away if she kept complaining, and that he was completely unaffected by how closely they were dancing, she gave up.
‘Such a heavy sigh.’ His lips quirked as he studied her. ‘And here you looked like you were enjoying dancing earlier in the evening.’
She had been. But that was because she hadn’t felt like this in the arms of any other man. Ever. ‘I thought you said dancing was better without talking,’ she threw back.
Logan laughed softly, the sound rumbling from his chest and into hers. ‘So I did.’
If it were possible, he drew her even closer and Cassidy had no choice but to follow his lead. And then she didn’t care, her body melting against his as he expertly guided her within the tight circle of his arms. He really was an exceptional dancer, his strong thighs brushing intimately against hers as he controlled their steps.
She didn’t know if it was the soft music flowing over her, too much champagne, or Logan’s hard body solid and strong against hers, but the intimacy of the moment took her over and dragged her into a sensual spell that made her feel dizzy.
Worried that he’d see the effect he was having on her, she ducked her face against his chest. Logan brought the hand entwined with hers in against her cheek and Cassidy had to fight the urge to place her lips against his skin.
When she felt him stiffen against her she was mortified to realise that she hadn’t just thought it, she’d done it, and the tantalising male taste of his skin was exploding across her taste buds.
Jerking back, Cassidy stood mute in the circle of his arms, her eyes wide with panic.
Logan stared down at her so intently that for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her in full view of his other guests. Then he swore softly under his breath and started to lead her off the dance floor.
Stumbling to keep up, Cassidy leaned close to him. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Somewhere else.’ His grip on her tightened as he picked up his pace.
That somewhere else turned out to be outside, down past a thick hedge of conifers to a trellised garden bed and stone steps that continued to a high brick wall. Stopping in front of a green-painted door, he flicked a hidden latch and shifted aside so that she could precede him inside.
Cassidy was immediately assailed by the soft scent of roses and jasmine that lingered in the evening air, the perfume heady and intoxicating. Breathing deeply, her eyes closed and she forgot the reason Logan had dragged her out here.
Rose bushes stood like silvery sentries around the perimeter of the small square garden, ethereally still in the moonlight.
Mesmerised, Cassidy moved from one bush to another, taking in the shape and what she could of the colour, leaning in to smell the tightly furled blossoms.
Suddenly she sensed Logan behind her, the heat from his body warming her back, even though he wasn’t touching her.
‘This is a Perfume Passion,’ she said, recognising the flower her father had grown in their garden before their mother had walked out. ‘It’s a hybrid tea known for its incredible citrusy scent.’
‘All I smell is you,’ Logan said, his voice deep and low.