"My dearest Maximilian…"
The familiar voice sliced through the moment like cold water.
Catherine's eyes flew open.
Maximilian was still kissing her.
Reality slammed back in all at once—her legs were locked around his waist, his hand pressed firmly against her back. Bare back. She was wearing a dress.
It was just a kiss.
So how had it spiraled into this?
There was no way to explain it away. No angle, no excuse. Anyone with eyes could see exactly what had been happening.
She tugged sharply at Maximilian's collar.
He froze. His eyes snapped open.
"Max?" the voice called again.
Maximilian exhaled slowly, heavily, his jaw tightening as if he were holding himself together by force alone. He lowered her carefully, hands lingering only long enough to help her smooth her dress back into place, to fix a strand of hair that had fallen loose.
Catherine couldn't look at him.
