The library muffled the sound of the orchestra. It was a thin barrier against the world of the ballroom outside, against propriety, against sanity. But in that moment, Carcel did not care about sanity.
He only cared about the woman in his arms.
He didn't break the kiss as he lifted her off the floor. He couldn't. His mouth was fused to hers, drinking in her small gasps, tasting the lingering sweetness of the punch she had drunk moments earlier. He walked blindly, guided only by memory and instinct, until the back of her thighs hit the edge of the heavy reading table.
He placed her on top, sweeping a stack of unread books onto the floor with a careless shove of his arm. They fluttered down, landing on the floor with a dull thud that neither of them heard.
He lifted her, placing her onto the table. She was now at his height.
