He smiled at her words. Really, he didn't think there was anything she could say that could make him frown. She was so pretty, so willing, so eager to let him have her—it was not nearly as difficult as Arthur had made it sound. He could see how other men enjoyed the art of seduction, because he even found himself wondering if other women would take to his charms as easily as she would or if he'd have to try another route. But he knew doing that would mean abandoning his pursuit of Miss Lestrange, and he was definitely not going to do that.

"I've never been the most subtle," he admitted, his gaze dropping to her lips, which looked so soft and kissable. He finally dragged his gaze back to her eyes, and realized with a pang in his chest that oh, she was looking at his lips with that dreamy, glazed-over look. "Not very subtle at all," he murmured, his gaze slipping back to her lips.

She wanted to be kissed.

He'd told himself he wasn't going to ravish her in the middle of the rose garden, and he wouldn't. He couldn't. He didn't think it would actually be possible, and even from where he was standing he could see people walking in the distance. But that didn't mean he couldn't kiss her...

So he did. He closed the gap between them, one hand wrapping around her waist. His hand sprawled out against the small of her back, while his other reached up and cupped her face. He kissed her softly and slowly, a shiver running from the top of his spine to the tips of his toes as he took in the feel of her for the fourth time. It was their fourth kiss, he realized. The first had been at the ball, then on the boat, then at Hogwarts, and now here—and yet it felt like the first time all over again, and he felt like a schoolboy all over again. Merlin help him.

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