Lilian’s POV
I made it to the top of the basement stairs, my legs burning and my breath still coming in short, angry huffs.
“Walk through him,” he’d said. “Make me move.”
I wiped a bead of sweat from my temple, muttering a string of very unladylike curse words under my breath. The man was a fortress. A stubborn, granite-jawed, infuriatingly attractive fortress. And for a moment down there, when his hands were on my hips and the music was swelling, I’d wanted to siege the castle. I’d wanted to kiss him again.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the memory of his thumb tracing my jawline. I needed a shower. A cold one.
I pushed through the door at the top of the stairs, expecting to find the hallway that led back to the foyer and the grand staircase. Instead, I found myself in a narrow,
