this is a dangerously heated zone. expect stolen glances, lingering touches, unbearable tension, and eventual fire-alarm-level kisses. ballroom etiquette may be violated. snacks, fan, and possibly a cold shower recommended. 🖤🔥💦
✨ enemies-to-lovers, ballroom edition ✨
Arabella Fairchild x Anthony Bridgerton
The chandeliers glimmered like frozen fire over the sea of swirling gowns and bowing gentlemen, but Anthony’s gaze was anchored entirely on Arabella Fairchild. She floated across the polished floor, a vision of sapphire silk and delicate poise, the soft curve of her neckline teasing just enough to make his chest tighten.
He reached for her hand before she could slip past, his fingers brushing hers in a spark that felt like it might set the entire ballroom ablaze.
“May I have this dance?” His voice was velvet, low, and utterly dangerous.
Arabella’s lips curved into a coy smile, her pulse quickening under the heat of his stare. “I thought you’d never ask.”
As they moved together, the orchestra’s waltz became a heartbeat shared only between them. Every turn pressed her closer, every step brushed his hand along the curve of her waist, and Anthony felt the fire coil in his veins. She smelled like honeysuckle and something sharper—something that made him ache with want.
Arabella’s breath hitched when his chest grazed hers during a turn. She told herself it was the spin, the closeness—but the steady, hungry pressure of his hand at her lower back betrayed her denial. Her mind wandered, unbidden, to the feel of his lips against her neck, the dangerous strength of his hands exploring what they shouldn’t.
Anthony caught her glance, the subtle bite of her lip, the way her eyes glimmered with mischief—or was it invitation? He couldn’t tell anymore, and frankly, he didn’t care. He pressed her a fraction closer on the next pivot, enjoying the thrill of her almost-smile, the almost-gasp that danced on her lips.
The world narrowed to skin and silk and the relentless music that drew them together like magnets. His hand slid to her hip, firm, commanding, and Arabella shivered, pretending it was from the motion of the dance. Pretending, but failing spectacularly.
“I—I hope you don’t mind,” she whispered, breathless, “if I—”
“You can say whatever you like,” Anthony murmured, voice roughening, his face impossibly close to hers. “I might not resist it.”
Her pulse jumped at the promise in his tone, at the heat pooling low in her belly. She let her hand drift to his shoulder, feeling the taut muscle beneath, imagining the strength of him pressed against her entirely somewhere far away from this gilded hall.
They spun again, a perfect whirl, and this time, neither tried to mask the tension that radiated between them. Every brush of skin, every inhale of each other’s scent, was a little trial by fire. Arabella’s lips parted, and Anthony caught the subtle sigh she didn’t realize she’d released.
His jaw brushed her hairline; she could feel the press of his body, the undeniable pull of his arousal restrained only by decorum. She wanted to tell him to stop, to step back—but the thought was ridiculous. She didn’t want him to stop. Not now, not ever.
The waltz ended far too quickly. The last note lingered, a ghost of heat between them, and neither moved to step apart. Their faces were inches from touching, their breaths mingling, hearts hammering in a rhythm the orchestra could never match.
Anthony’s hand lingered on her back, his thumb tracing a subtle, dangerous path along the curve of her spine. “I’ve never wanted to break all the rules,” he said, voice husky, “quite like I want to break them with you.”
Arabella’s chest rose and fell, her mind spinning with the deliciously wicked thought of what it would mean to let him. To let herself. To surrender entirely to this storm of heat and tension that crackled between them.
And in the midst of the glittering ballroom, with all eyes elsewhere, Anthony leaned just a fraction closer, their foreheads touching, lips almost brushing, both of them suspended on the precipice of want that neither could deny any longer.
The dance was over. The fire was just beginning.
they danced. they burned. they definitely broke some rules. 🔥
