“Jealous that he’s probably seen you in this dress before I did? Jealous of what else he knows about you that I don’t, because I’m jealous he’s had more of your time than I ever will?” His hand was still inching lower down her back, his palm against the bare skin there, as he guided her effortlessly in time with the music, as skilled and smooth at dancing a waltz as he was with everything else. She was becoming intoxicated by him. His body was so close. His words were so candid. It made her eyes prickle to think of what this dance could have been if they hadn’t run into George. “Are you?” she
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