Geneviève moved into his arms. Peter didn’t know what to do with the surge of energy that coursed through his body. Other than when he’d taken her hand to help her out of The Beast and the briefest of kisses last night, they had barely touched. He didn’t count her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow.
Well, okay, he had counted it, until he suddenly had his arms full of luscious woman.
Her idea of dancing was not some stand-offish American form of dance. It wasn’t even a waltz distance. She simply filled his arms.
She placed a hand around his back and her cheek on his shoulder. With no other choice, he tentatively slid his hands around her waist. Never had he felt such a thing. “Thing,” there was a good word. Mr. Scrabble King had just lost all his words.
Geneviève began a slow shuffl
