A woman like her must be accustomed to silks, and should make love in a plush bedroom, with a man who promises jewels and riches before bringing her pleasure. Ben could only give her cotton that would chafe her delicate skin, leave her perched on a second-hand table in a building with a collapsed ceiling. What was he thinking, imagining he could have a woman like her—
“Ben, wait,” she gasped, and he froze. Her lower lip was trapped between her teeth. She squeezed her eyes shut and spoke in a rush. “I’ve never—I’m still a virgin, but only because I’ve never wanted to before, not because I need to wait until marriage or—”
Ben interrupted her with a soft kiss on her forehead as he attempted to catch his breath. Had he frightened her with his rough words and touch? He would never forgive himself if he had. He started to slide her off the table. “I’m sorry, Rose, I—”
Rose pressed her fingertip to his lips to halt his words. “Do you want to stop? Because I don’t.”
He shook his head. “God, if only you knew how much I want to continue, but it’s not my place to take this from you.”
“You’re not taking anything I’ve freely given.”
He dug his fingertips into her hips. Who was he to resist this woman, with her uncanny beauty and beguiling mind? But what right did he have to touch her in the first place?
With a shake of his head, Ben grunted out his response. “Not tonight, Princess.”
Her face fell, but he swept his thumb over her lower lip, then leaned in to kiss her. “But,” she whispered through his kiss, “I’m aching. Aren’t you?”
Aching? He was nearing immolation, the fire running beneath his skin threatening to consume him. “Do you need me to ease your ache?”
Rose moaned as her eyes drifted shut. “Yes, yes, please.”
A low oath fell from his lips as he slid his palms along her stocking-clad calves, over her knees and up her silky thighs, to—
“Fuck, Rose. You’re not wearinganythingunder your skirts.“ She was trying to kill him, he was sure of it now. Rose Waverly had been sent into his life to destroy him.
She pressed her lips to his, rocking her hips forward until the tips of his fingers grazed against the soft curls guarding her sex.
Ben groaned and took her mouth once more, gripping her braid to keep her head where he wanted. He skimmed his thumb over her damp intimate curls, delved deeper into her silky folds. “Is this what you wanted? Did you want to see me undone, completely lost over you?”
She hissed as his finger brushed the swollen bundle of nerves, breaking their kiss as her head dropped back. “Yes, Ben, please.”
He watched as wonder spread over her features, and a realization struck. “Have you come with a partner before?”
Rose hesitated, then shook her head, as though she couldn’t find the breath to speak.
He stilled and pulled back; this gift wasn’t his to claim, but Rose grabbed his wrist. “Please don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice breathy and weak. “It’s perfect, it’s—”
Her words fell away in a moan as he stroked again, more firmly and confidently, his fingers slicked in her moisture. Need built in him, higher than before, clawing and pulling at him as he kissed her, his lips and teeth and tongue exploring her mouth and jaw, dipping to her neck, then to her ear. He took the lobe between his teeth and pressed, the slight nip causing her to shudder in his arms as she pulled him closer. Emboldened, he slid one finger into her heat, then a second.
Rose’s breath came in brief spurts as she dropped her head onto his shoulder, her lips brushing against his neck with each exhale.
“Tell me, Rose,” he murmured against her hair. He wanted to pull the sleek tresses from their braid and wrap them around his fingers, feel their silk against his rough skin. “Is this the touch you like?”
“Yes, yes.” The words sounded like pleas, gratitude and joy laced in each syllable. Her internal muscles fluttered against his fingers and he increased his pace, his thumb making firm circles around and over her clit.
“Come for me, Rose. Let me see you. Let me have it.” He didn’t deserve her climax, but he couldn’t breathe without it, couldn’t go another moment without knowing how Rose looked when she came apart. When pleasure overtook her, her entire body stiffened as she clenched her hands on his biceps. She arched her spine and bucked against his hand, her head thrown back as a low moan escaped her throat. She was glorious, perfection in her climax. And he had been the man to bring her there.
Fuck the Marquess of Trembly. Ben was a goddamnedking.
Ben pressed his forehead to hers, slicking his thumb in her release and returning it to her swollen bud. “Again, Rose.” He didn’t recognize the assertive rasp of his voice, nor did he expect the heat he would find in her eyes. “Can you come again?”
Rose nodded, her lips parted and breath coming fast. Perspiration gathered on her brow as she held his gaze, and he saw the moment she tumbled over the second time with a shudder and shout, then slumped against him, her arms limp as they hung over his shoulders. “Christ, Ben,” she finally exhaled with a laugh. “I had no idea it could be like that. Why do people ever leave the house when this is a possibility?”
She lifted her head, and Ben kissed her softly as he slid her off the table. Why had he not been kissing her since the day they met? Her lips were addictive, and he stole several more slow caresses before she pushed him away.
“What about you?”
His eyelids dropped closed, shutting her out as his breathing quickened. Taking Rose to climax had been heady, intoxicating, and he wanted to do it again, over and over until she begged for rest. He could lose his mind to her, loseeverythingto her, and give it up willingly. But what would be left of him when she left?
