Michael's POV
I pulled Allyson through the maze of hallways, away from that suffocating dinner party. My fingers wrapped around her wrist like a brand, leading her past ornate paintings and marble columns until we found ourselves in a shadowed alcove.
The second we were alone, I pressed her against the cool stone wall.
"Michael," she whispered, her hands flat against my chest. "What are you thinking?"
I captured her wrist, lifting it above her head while my body caged her in. Every inch of me was on fire, and I needed her to feel it too.
"I was thinking about how badly I wanted to drag you out of that room before I did something we'd both regret in front of everyone."
Her breath caught, eyes wide with a mixture of alarm and want. "Someone might come by..."
"Let them."
I traced my lips along her jawline, not quite kissing, just torturing us both. My free hand found the curve of her waist, pulling her flush against me so she could feel exactly what she did to me.
