This moment can’t be real.

She was surrounded by him—almost absorbed into him. His citrusy scent mingled with red wine and a hundred different candles, perfuming the air like incense. Lifting her a hairsbreadth from the blanket, he threaded an arm around her waist. Her mind clouded.

This person can’t be me.

In a split second, it wasn’t. Unzipping from herself, she floated upward, leaving her body like a stranger’s below. As if she were dying, she hovered among the cobwebs, gazing at the shimmering room. She saw her own freckled hands caress his shoulders and his body move against hers, cajoling, enticing.

Again, he pulled away, and she saw rather than felt her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Her mass of curls splayed across the blanket.

“My God,” he whispered. “You’re a Renaissance painting come to life.”

Who were those people, tangled in the enchanted glow of candlelight? Could one of them possibly be herself?

“My beautiful Tessa.”

Then, like a hurricane, she plummeted from the ceiling, inhabiting again the full length of herself. Every hair prickled. Every inch of skin throbbed. Her burning lungs strained for breath, and she tore from his lips with a muffled grunt. She shot her left arm over her head, knocking her wine glass and launching it across the floor. The glass clattered over uneven planks, and she groped with one hand, trailing her fingers through warm liquid.

He grabbed her wrist and lowered her arm to her side, planting kisses along her jaw. “I don’t care about the stupid glass.”

His voice was teasing but rough. She tensed, her thigh muscles hardening against his grip. “The wine is everywhere—please, Richard.” She planted a hand on his shoulder and pushed. As if her palm was suddenly hot coals, he reared and shrank away. She clambered to sitting, twisting her rumpled dress into place.

Breathing hard, he rolled to one side. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I…” She swiped wet hands down the front of her dress.

His cheeks blanched. “Sweetheart, did I hurt you?”

Her spine was still tender. She rolled her shoulders and retrieved the glass from inside the fireplace. The night took on an air of unreality—the room so fuzzy she couldn’t make out the edges of windows and walls. She supposed out-of-body experiences could muddle a person. Ultimately, though, she was unharmed. She met his gaze. “I’m fine.”

The lines on his forehead released, and he puffed out a breath. “Thank goodness. I forget my vow of chivalry sometimes. I’m sorry.” Flopping onto his back, he waved a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll refinish these floors.” His fingers found hers on the soggy blanket, and he lowered his voice. “Do you want me to stop?” He tilted his head an inch and caught her gaze.