Champagne with a Celebrity. Kate Hardy

      ‘Liar.’

      She took a deep breath. ‘How many more times do I have to apologise to you?’

      ‘You don’t.’ He sighed, set his glass down and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. ‘Come on.’

      ‘What—you want to dance again?’

      ‘It’s noisy in here.’ In silence, he shepherded her away from the marquee and the dancing, to the peace of the rose garden.

      This was bad, Amber thought. Very bad. Leaving a wedding party before the bride and groom was incredibly rude—unless things were different in France, which she somehow doubted. And if anyone had noticed, it meant she’d have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow.

      ‘Dance with me here,’ he said softly.

      She could still hear the music from the jazz trio, but here it was muted. Soft and dreamy and incredibly lovely. And the air was filled with the scent of roses. How could she resist stepping into his arms?

      One of Guy’s hands was splayed across the bare skin between her shoulders. His touch made her skin tingle—and she wanted more. Much more. She found herself moving closer, wrapping her arms tightly round him. His cheek was pressed against hers, and Amber wasn’t sure which of them moved, but then his lips were brushing the corner of her mouth. Like gossamer, but it lit a fire deep inside her.

      She kissed him back, still keeping it light.

      In return, his mouth turned coaxing, drawing a line of tiny, nibbling kisses all the way along her lower lip.

      With a small sigh of pleasure, she opened her mouth to let him deepen the kiss. And it was like nothing else she’d ever experienced. Nobody she’d ever kissed before had made her feel literally weak at the knees, making her hold onto him for dear life. Every stroke of his tongue, every touch of his skin against hers, stoked the desire higher and higher. Wanting more, she couldn’t help pressing against him, shifting her stance slightly so that he could slide one thigh between hers—just as he’d done when they’d danced the tango, except this time there was no audience. Just the two of them.

      Then he pulled back. ‘This probably isn’t a good idea.’

      ‘No, it isn’t,’ she agreed.

      ‘Tell me to stop.’ He hooked his thumb into the strap of her dress and bared her shoulder before nibbling his way along it.

      ‘I can’t.’ She undid his cravat, then the top three buttons of his shirt, and pressed her mouth against his throat in a hot, wet, demanding kiss.

      ‘Amber.’ His voice was husky. ‘Last warning. Tell me to stop.’

      She undid his waistcoat, then finished undoing his shirt. ‘Go,’ she whispered.

      In response, Guy scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the house.