Faye's POV
When he finally stepped back, his forehead pressed against mine, we were both struggling to breathe. His hands remained firm on my waist, thumbs tracing the material of my dress like he couldn't decide whether to release me.
My lips burned. My breathing was ragged. My thoughts scattered completely.
Then he spoke, his voice raw and strained, "You have no idea what you're doing to me."
I forced myself to swallow, still fighting for air, my fingertips grazing his jawline. "Perhaps I do," I whispered back.
Hardy's gaze locked with mine. There was something untamed there, torn between desire and restraint, and for a moment I was certain he would claim my mouth again.
And I craved it. Every fiber of my being craved it.
His breathing was harsh against my skin, irregular and shallow. His eyes studied mine as though searching for any reason to pull away. I could sense his pulse hammering beneath his chest, each rhythm vibrating through my own body.
