Mr. Stoker’s gaze rested on mine, then moved down to my lips and back again. His lips parted, slowly, so slowly, and he spoke. “We can’t repeat it, Veronica,” he said, his voice oddly thick. He leaned closer still, and the night seemed full of him. The clean male scent of him was in my nose, and I could feel the solid warmth of his flesh as he stood so very near to me. “No, we mustn’t,” I agreed. “Such proximity is dangerous.”
