"I realized I couldn't bear it. Couldn't stand the thought of him—of anyone—touching you." "You have no right to be jealous," I said, though the knowledge that he was sent a thrill through me. "None whatsoever," he agreed, his lips curving into a predatory smile. "And yet here I am, burning with it." His mouth hovered above mine, not quite touching. "Tell me to stop," he challenged, his voice rough with restraint. "Tell me to take you back to the ball, and we'll never speak of this again." I should have. Should have remembered my pride, my purpose, the deadly game of which I was still a part.
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