Via felt the shocking hardness of him press into her stomach, and she wiggled against it.

“Gah, fuck, goddammit,” he growled against her lips. His hand slid out of her dress and clasped her over top of the heated silk. He pressed his forehead into hers. “We gotta slow down, baby.”

“I—” She stopped trying to speak and just forcibly dragged him back into the kiss. Even with the heels, she was still up on the tiptoes of the one foot she had on the ground, trembling and reaching for that motherfucking mountaintop. He cradled the back of her head, nipped her lips and dropped his mouth to her ear.

“We gotta slow down,” he repeated, his voice like chocolate gravel, a glass of red wine drip-drip-dropped from one lover’s mouth to another.

“Why?” was the only word that made its way to the surface of Via’s electrified, squirming ocean.

“Because you’re about to get yourself fucked in a coat closet, and that is not how I pictured this going.”

No one had ever said something like that to her before. She tightened and clung to him, her body stiff while her insides melted into the hottest honey. She was very aware of the fact that she’d soaked through her underwear.

“You’ve pictured this?” she asked with basically the very last bit of air in her lungs.

He laughed, kissing her lips, one eye, the skin just under her ear. “Jesus, yes. God. Haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, and their eyes clashed for the first time since she’d marched up to him. His eyes were storm gray in the dark hallway. There must have been a window open somewhere because she could smell the fresh earth of the gardens, the sharp, dying tang of autumn leaves. And Sebastian. She could smell Sebastian.

“We have to slow down,” he asserted, for the third time. But Via couldn’t help noticing that he hadn’t unhanded her. His hands were on the outside of her dress now, sure, but he still had one hand on her ass as he pressed her into a brick wall.

She tested him, attempting to lower her leg, but he held her still, kept her wrapped around him.

“We don’t have to,” she said in a low voice, making sure to keep her eyes on him. “Slow down, I mean. We don’t have to. I won’t break.”

He sighed, equal parts pained and joyful. Leaning down, he planted one openmouthed kiss on her neck. “You’re right, we don’t have to. But we’re going to.”

“Why?” she asked again, dizzy with heat for him, like she’d been dozing in a hot car. This time the word was much more desperate than the first time she’d asked it.

Slowly, he lowered her leg from around his waist and straightened her dress. He bent toward her, about to kiss her again, but instead he raked his hand over his face. The sound of stubble against his rough hand was loud in the quiet hallway. He pulled back and paced away.