3. Edward #2
"Supposed to what?" I was close enough now to see the faint freckles across her nose, to count the individual lashes framing those extraordinary eyes. "What were you supposed to do, Lili Anderton?"
We were breathing the same air, existing in the same impossible moment where time seemed suspended.
Her scent surrounded me, something that made every rational thought dissolve into need. I hadn't been this close to a woman in months. Years?
When had I last allowed anyone inside the carefully constructed walls I'd built around my life.
Her hands had come up, ostensibly to push me away, but they merely rested against my chest. Through the thin fabric of my shirt, I could feel the heat of her palms, the slight tremor that betrayed her own struggle with whatever this was between us.
"You can't just..." she started, then licked her lips nervously. The movement drew my attention to her mouth—soft and pink and dangerously close.
"Can't what?"
"Look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you want to..." She swallowed hard, and I watched the movement of her throat with fascination. "Like you want to devour me."
The word hung between us, loaded with implications neither of us had meant to voice. Her breathing had quickened, and mine had matched pace without conscious decision. We stood frozen in a moment that felt suspended outside of time, logic, and everything I thought I understood about myself.
"And if I do?" The words escaped before I could stop them, raw and honest in a way that should have terrified me. "What then, Miss Anderton?"
Her lips parted on a soft gasp. "Edward..."
How she knew my name didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the way she said it—breathless and wondering, as if she were tasting something rare and precious.
My hand lifted of its own accord, fingertips barely grazing the silk of her cheek.
She leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed, and that small surrender nearly undid me completely.
"This is madness," I murmured, even as I leaned closer.
"Complete madness," she agreed, but tilted her face up to mine.
Our mouths were inches apart. I could feel her warm breath against my lips, could see every detail of her face in the moonlight.
Time moved like honey, thick and sweet and impossibly slow. Her hand had somehow found its way to my neck, fingers tangling in my hair.
"Edward..." she whispered again, and the sound of my name on her lips nearly shattered every wall I'd spent years building.
I was going to kiss her. Despite every rule of propriety, every logical argument against such behavior, every professional ethic I'd sworn to uphold—I was going to press my mouth to hers and discover if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.
The space between us disappeared by degrees, our breathing synchronized, our eyes locked in silent communication of intent and desire.
I felt myself drowning in green eyes that held no trace of fear, only wonder and want that matched my own.
One more inch. One more heartbeat. One more—
"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for—oh."
Daphne's voice cut through the haze of desire like a blade through silk. Lili and I sprang apart as if burned, the spell broken so abruptly I felt physically disoriented.
My sister stood in the doorway, wearing an elegant opera gown and an expression that cycled rapidly through surprise, understanding, and barely concealed delight.
Her eyes sparkled with the kind of mischief that had gotten us both into trouble throughout our childhood.
"Daphne!" Lili's voice emerged as a squeak, her face now the color of summer roses. "You're back!"
"I am indeed." Daphne stepped fully into the room, somehow making the space feel smaller despite its substantial size. "The gala ended early—something about the soprano having a complete meltdown during the second act. I came to check on you, but I see you've met Edward."
"Met is a generous term," I managed, struggling to reassemble my scattered composure. "We've encountered each other."
"In your bedroom," Daphne observed with a grin that promised future interrogation. "How... fortuitous."
Lili looked mortified. "I got lost! I was looking for the kitchen, and everything looked the same, and I was so tired I just—"
"Fell asleep in Edward's bed?" Daphne's eyes practically glittered with amusement. "Like Goldilocks? How perfectly romantic."
"That comparison has already been made," I said dryly, shooting my sister a warning look.
"Of course it has." She moved further into the room with the fluid grace of someone completely comfortable disrupting private moments.
"Well, this is perfect actually. Edward, meet Lili Anderton, my dearest friend from university and current resident of our blue suite.
Lili, this is my brother Edward—though I suspect you've already worked that out. "
Lili extended her hand with visible determination, and I noticed the slight tremor in her fingers. "Pleased to meet you properly, Mr...?"
"Grosvenor," I supplied, taking her offered hand.
The contact sent electricity shooting up my arm, and her slight intake of breath suggested she felt it too. "Edward Grosvenor."
Her hand was smaller than I'd expected, surprisingly callused in a way that spoke of actual work rather than pampered leisure. I found myself reluctant to release it, my thumb unconsciously brushing across her knuckles.
"Right. Of course. Grosvenor." She tried to withdraw her hand, but my fingers tightened involuntarily. "I'm really sorry about your bed."
"No harm done," I lied smoothly, finally forcing myself to release her.
The loss of contact felt like deprivation. "Though, in future, you might consider avoiding private quarters when exploring unfamiliar houses."
"Trust me, I'll get a map tattooed on my arm before I risk this again." Her smile was wry, self-deprecating, and utterly charming.
Daphne cleared her throat meaningfully. "Yes, well, now that you've been properly introduced, perhaps Lili could actually get to her assigned room? She's had a long day at the studio."
"Studio?" I looked between them, though some part of me already knew the answer.
"Gardens & Home Television," Lili said, "I work for their London branch. Late-night shopping channel."
This wasn't coincidence. It couldn't be.
But looking at her flushed face and obvious embarrassment, I saw no calculation, no manipulation.
Just a woman who'd stumbled into the wrong room and found herself trapped in an impossible situation.
My mind reeled as reality reassembled itself.
Lili Anderton. L. Anderton from the company files. The woman whose bio photo had shown bright eyes and an infectious smile was standing in my bedroom, still rumpled from sleeping in my bed, still radiating the warmth that had nearly made me forget every principle I'd ever held.
"We should let you get some rest," Daphne said, slipping a protective arm through Lili's. "Edward, do try to get some sleep yourself. You look rather unsettled."
Unsettled was a masterpiece of British understatement. Every cell in my body was humming with awareness, with the memory of her scent, her warmth, the way she'd whispered my name like a prayer.
As they reached the door, Lili glanced back.
Our eyes met for one charged moment that felt like a promise and a threat combined. I saw confusion in her gaze, and something else—something that looked like regret for what we'd almost shared.
"Goodnight, Mr. Grosvenor," she said formally, but her voice carried undertones that made the polite words feel intimate.
"Goodnight, Miss Anderton."
The door closed behind them, leaving me alone with the scent of vanilla and the sound of my own ragged breathing.
I stared at my bed—my perfectly made bed that now bore the impression of her body, still warm from her presence.
The irony was exquisite in its cruelty. I'd spent the evening reviewing documents that would determine her professional fate, calculating the financial value of the company that employed her, preparing strategies that could destroy everything she'd worked for.
And now I stood in my bedroom, surrounded by evidence of the most profound disruption my ordered life had ever endured.
From the hallway, I could hear the soft murmur of voices as Daphne led her away—protective, sisterly tones mixed with self-deprecating American laughter.
The sound made something in my chest tighten.
I'd come here seeking sanctuary and found instead the most beautiful chaos of my carefully controlled existence.
A woman who worked for the company I was meant to acquire.
A woman who'd slept in my bed and awakened something in me I'd thought permanently buried.
A woman who'd looked at me with wonder instead of fear, who'd whispered my name like a secret.
As I stood in the ruins of my perfectly organized evening, one thought echoed in my mind with devastating clarity. This was only the beginning.
I wasn't certain whether that prospect thrilled or terrified me more.