Phillip moved closer, as if he could read her mind. This time, his gaze was fixed upon her face, but Aurora could feel the heat of his body through the thin gauze of her nightgown. Close, so close…close enough to touch, close enough to let him…
“Ah, yes,” he said with a smile. “I see you do remember.” He reached out, not for her, but for the rose resting upon the window sill, and broke the flower free to offer her. “I’m pleased that I made an impression, dear Princess.”
Aurora accepted the rose with a hand that trembled, a jolt running through her at the brush of his fingers against hers. “I fear I made a greater one,” she said, the memory of the previous dream returning and sending a rush of mortification through her.
Phillip’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “You made the finest impression a man could hope for,” he said, his hand coming up to cup her breast.
Gasping, Aurora jerked back. No man had ever touched her so; it both thrilled and frightened her, an unseemly display no proper woman would ever entertain, even in the privacy of her own thoughts. It flushed heat through her, flickered and trembled beneath her skin, left her damp and throbbing with want.
She shouldn’t yield to him, couldn’t give up her innocence…but who would know? What possible harm could it do, to indulge herself in a dream?