PREVIEW

... ween them.

It was not surprise or nostalgia.

It was satisfaction. Dangerously close to it. As if they were standing precisely where they were meant to be, with exactly the person they were never supposed to want.

They moved fully into the open floor.

Light fractured across Catherine’s green gown as the skirt began to breathe—catching, releasing, circling. Every pivot drew the silk outward, then back toward him, as though the fabric itself understood where it belon ...

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