She stood staring at him for a long moment before finally setting her half-finished glass of champagne on the end of the table. She picked up a small plate and glanced at the platters of food once more.
Another sigh quickly followed. Robert got the distinct impression that this particular young woman would rather be anywhere else other than in the supper room of this particular London party. Her odd behavior had him immediately intrigued. He halted his progress, and moving away from the table, began to observe her every move.
She was wearing a gold colored gown which hugged her hips and waist with understated skill. Whomever she employed as her modiste certainly knew their way with fabric. Robert’s gaze lingered over the young woman’s generous bustline. The gown had been cleverly constructed, but it barely contained her plump breasts. He licked his lips and indulged his imagination.
I wonder what color her nipples are—blushed cherry or coffee brown.
Whatever their shade, he imagined they would taste utterly divine in his mouth. His breathing grew more shallow.
He knew his own body, how it reacted to this woman. It took all his willpower to shift his hungry gaze higher. Her deep brown hair was set in a carefully curated chignon. The look was softened by the light ringlets which framed the pale skin of her face.
She reminded him of butter cake with chocolate icing.Delicious. Something to nibble on, then slowly lick the cream off his fingers. One by one.
He was spellbound.
It was rare for a female to capture his notice in such a way. He was a red-blooded male who appreciated women and their generous gifts. But even as he silently ogled the young woman, he sensed she wasn’t an experienced matron. No man had ever touched her. No man had ever lain with her. She was as pure as the driven snow.
She tempted his every wicked desire. But she was an innocent, and only a man with marriage in mind would go anywhere near such a woman.
Your lust is ruling your head. Get a hold of yourself.
His enduring state of bachelorhood was one of the reasons why he avoided these kinds of social gatherings. In the main ballroom, there would be far too many mothers all with doe-eyed daughters who saw him as a means to secure their family fortunes. He also hated the obligatory small talk that meeting these people involved. But most of all, he loathed terrible supper offerings.
Robert stood transfixed, watching as the young woman slowly made her way along the long supper table, stopping every so often to examine a dish, then move on. She picked up the occasional plate or bowl, bent and inhaled its aroma before returning it to its rightful place. But by the time she’d reached the center display, her plate was still empty.
Fussy little creature. Then again, I haven’t touched any of the food either.
Nothing appealed to him. Nothing except her. Robert swallowed deep, fighting down his rapidly rising lust.
She lifted her head and met his gaze once more. The withering look she gave him was both haughty and disapproving. It went straight to his cock.
“You do know that it’s rude to stare,” she snapped.
He’d give anything for her to punish him for his lustful thoughts. He’d gladly take five hard strokes of a switch on his bare backside if she felt the need to take him firmly in hand.
For heaven’s sake, get a grip on yourself.
Robert broke out of his sensual dream. “My apologies,” he said, as his heated blood still coursed through his body. “I.” He stopped and swallowed. “I was just interested to see if you weregoing to select any of the food. It all looks so delicious, I can understand why you might be spoilt for choice.”
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Is it? I mean delicious. To be honest, it seems to be the same tasteless offerings that one finds at every other party in London.” She set down her plate and muttered, “Why is it so hard to find good food in London? No one appears the least bit interested in satisfying my needs.”
Given half a chance, he would love to satisfy her… everything.
Food. She was talking about food. Robert bit down hard on his bottom lip, anything to force his thoughts from where they currently lurked behind the falls of his trousers.
“Now who’s being rude,” he playfully chided her.
Yes, that was a much better idea—take the chit to task over her opinion of the supper dishes. Even if her thoughts mirrored his own.
For a moment, he was tempted to reveal his secret. To tell this stuck-up, but rather delicious-looking creature that he was in fact the restaurant reviewer for one of London’s foremost newspapers and could furnish her with a long list of places that would indeed offer wonderful food which left her satisfied.
Please let me satisfy you.
She glared at him, almost as if she could read his lecherous mind.
Then again, maybe I should say nothing. This busty wench looks ready to take a bite out of me.
Whoever he was, he could go to the devil. Victoria took in the gentleman and his well-cut attire. He might well bea condescending prig, but she had to admit, he was rather gorgeous.
