Cecilia snapped out of her daze, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of what she'd just done sank in.
She pulled back sharply, rising from her chair with a sudden, almost frantic movement.
Her hand flew to her lips, her fingers trembling as if the very touch of them reminded her of the kiss—of the warmth she had felt but shouldn't have. Shame flushed across her face, her cheeks burning.
"I-I am sorry," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know what I was doing. Y-You should leave now." Her gaze darted away from him, her chest tightening with guilt.
But Asher, standing behind her with a calm, almost knowing look, leaned closer, his voice a low, seductive whisper. "How long are you going to lie to yourself, Cecilia? Doesn't it get tiring?" His arm began to snake around her slender waist, his fingers brushing the fabric of her dress. "You kissed me back. I know you want me."
