Free Love in Fantasy (Skeleton Key) by Elle Christensen, Skeleton Key

was so much like Cole’s aftershave. The heat at her back, the goosebumps suddenly all over her body, the butterflies in her belly, the French accent that dissolves her into a puddle of want, they all indicated that if this isn’t Cole, it’s his doppelganger.
    “Kinsey. Bébé.”
    Did he just call me baby? Seriously. What. The. Fuck? Kinsey spins around and glares at the beautiful man who never fails to make her weak in the knees. And, it really, really wasn’t fair that she seemed to be the only one on the verge of spontaneously combusting from lust when they were around each other. This time, though, the hurt and anger were strong enough to help her keep her composure. Otherwise, she might have simply melted, and how embarrassing would that have been?
    “Cole.” Her voice doesn’t waiver, coming across emotionless, and she barely restrains a fist pump in victory. Maybe she would actually walk away with her dignity intact, only in her dreams had she ever been able to keep her composure around Cole. “What are you doing here?”
    He looks so much the same—tall, lean, and curly brown hair. Heartbreakingly handsome. His brown eyes, framed by long, black lashes, pierce through her, and she fights the temptation to squirm. She always felt like he could see inside her and wondered how it was he could ignore the burning passion and love she had for him. There is something in his gaze she’s never seen before. Or, a more apt description might be that she can see everything in his eyes, as though he’s removed walls she hadn’t been able to see past before. And, what she sees is freaking her the fuck out.
    “I’m here for you, Kinsey.” His velvety voice is almost her undoing. He prowls closer and Kinsey backs up, desperately trying to keep distance between them. There is hunger is his gaze; he’s staring at her like she is his next meal.
    Shaking her head, she puts a hand out to stop his advance. “Arrêtez,” she begs raggedly.
    “Non, bébé,” he answers with a scowl.
    One more step back and Kinsey bumps into another body. “Sorry!” she apologizes as she tries to catch her balance. There is a bit of a shuffle and Kinsey seizes the opportunity to take off in the crowd. To her shock, she’s in the middle of the same ballroom, but everything is different. The room is lit by oil sconces; the women are dressed in large, fairytale-type ball gowns, while the men are dressed much as the princes are in the same stories. They are dancing the waltz, spinning around the room, and suddenly she’s being swept away in the same dizzying pattern.
    Cole holds her close as he leads, swirling and stepping in time to the music. Kinsey looks up in confusion, not understanding what’s happening. His face is soft and tender as he gazes down at her, and when he bends his head to brush his lips over hers, it leaves a delicious tingle behind. “Si belle,” he murmurs. He thinks I’m beautiful? Her valiant attempts to stay unaffected are failing miserably and she feels hope lift her heart.
    It seems as though the whole world fades away, including the ballroom where they are dancing. Kinsey looks down and sees nothing but clouds at their feet. Cloud nine? Somebody is having too much fun with the realism of expressions. . .
    Finally, the floor solidifies under their feet again and they stop spinning. Keeping her hand firmly clasped in his, he leads her out the front door to the relative quiet of the night. He stops once they are out of the way from people leaving the party and leans against a wall. With his hands on her hips, he situates her so she is standing between his legs.
    “I don’t understand what’s happening,” she cries softly.
    “Je suis désolé mon amour.” His voice breaks slightly as he apologizes, running a hand over her hair and kissing her forehead. “I should never have let you go. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
    “Why?” Tears are making tracks down her cheeks, and he wipes them away