Very slowly, she swept aside the fur blanket and fought to keep her balance as she swung inelegantly over to his side of the carriage. Because his outstretched legs had caged her in, she’d had very little choice except to land on his lap, which would have caused a proper lady—sitting on his thigh, so close to his crotch, her feet dangling between his legs—to blush profusely in mortification.
Other than his arm coming around her back to brace her so she didn’t tumble to the floor, she detected no other movement on his part, wasn’t even certain he continued breathing. With her hand, she cupped the left side of his face, so his strong jaw rested against the edge of her palm, the thick stubble coating his chin prickling her skin, sending delicious spikes of pleasure through her. With her thumb, she lightly stroked his full bottom lip. It was soft, smooth, and warm. He was comprised of so many different textures, and she wanted to explore every one of them.
“Earlier, when you were removing my gloves, I was wondering if you took off all of a woman’s clothing so slowly.” Her voice was a hushed, intimate whisper.
“Not always.”
Hisvoice was a rasp that for some reason caused her nipples to pucker and ache. His hot breath wafting over the curve of her thumb made her stomach tighten.
“I know you claimed it was a mistake, but have you thought at all today about the kiss we shared?”
“Not a single second has passed that I haven’t thought of it.”
Heat pooled between her thighs, coursed through her veins.
In spite of the darkness that made them little more than shadowy outlines and silhouettes, she unerringly pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth that always quirked up when he wasn’t quite ready to give her a full grin. “Do you want to kiss me now?”
Some sort of jerky movement occurred behind her back, and when his free hand came up and cradled her cheek, the glove that had been keeping it warm was gone. With his long, thick fingers threaded through her hair, he guided her nearer. “More than I want to draw breath.”
Then he took possession of her mouth as though he intended to own it for all eternity.
The kiss in no way resembled his removal of her gloves. It wasn’t slow, disciplined, or civilized. It was frenzied, accompanied by his guttural groans as he licked the raised bow of her upper lip before journeying into the interior where their tongues clashed with fervor. It wasn’t only a kiss. It was a feast as each lick created a heated sensation that traveled all the way through her. How was it possible that his occupation with a portion of her could cause the rest of her to feel as though little bolts of lightning were dancing over every inch of her skin? Why did each aspect of her coil and twist into a weave that created a tapestry of sensations?
In an attempt to steady herself, she clasped his shoulder with the free hand, dug her fingers into him, resenting the thickness of his coat. She lifted her hand to cup his head. He grabbed her wrist, turned his mouth from hers to plant a kiss in the center of her palm, and then carried her hand inside his greatcoat, inside his jacket, and slipped it beneath his waistcoat.
“Relish the warmth I can offer you,” he rasped, placingher hand at his shoulder over his linen shirt where her fingers clamped hard as he reclaimed her mouth.
She couldn’t imagine any other man devouring her thusly or her allowing any other man to do so. Not even Chadbourne when she had fancied herself in love with him. She couldn’t envision his arms enveloping her, his mouth engaged in such wickedly wonderful deeds, coaxing her tongue to pass through his parted lips where he suckled it with an enthusiasm that she suspected Chadbourne had never exhibited about anything in his life. Certainly not her. Their relationship had always been a quiet, cool, calm sort of thing. It had never created a storm of desire. Had never made her think, “Without this, I would wither away.”
It was a revelation at that moment to realize she was incredibly grateful she’d not married him, had not been denied the opportunity to know such wild abandonment.
Benedict bracketed her hips with his large hands, tearing his mouth from hers, his breaths coming in rushed, greedy gasps for air. “Straddle me.”
He could have commanded anything of her, and she would have obeyed. Such was his power over her at that moment. A power held because of the vow for more pleasure he offered and the promises of delivering exquisite sensations that he now kept, promises he’d made with smoldering stares and earnest conversations and alluring smiles. He knew what he was about. He’d made sure she knew it as well.
With his assistance, in spite of the rocking of the carriage, she easily scrambled onto the seat, resting on one knee while she swung her other leg over his and settled the slender cavern between her thighs against the hard ridge between his. They both groaned as though nothing had ever felt as sublime, then released a quick huff of laughter that they should be so attuned to each other. Then each reclaimed the other’s mouth.
This was better, so much better, facing him squarely. She slipped her hands inside his jacket, clutched both his shoulders, dropped her head back as he trailed that heated mouth along the column of her throat even as his fingers went to work loosening the buttons that ran along the front of her frock. When he reached the last one, he pulled back, and she felt his gaze homed in on her. For a second she resented the shadows that prevented her from seeing the obsidian depth of his eyes and what she might discover revealed in them.
More slowly than he’d removed her gloves, he glided the edges of his hands along the parted cloth, up the front of her corset, his fingers taking the time to outline each of the steel hooks. The absence of a lady’s maid had made it necessary for her to acquire a corset that fastened in the front so she could more easily dress herself. She couldn’t help but believe that it was on the verge of becoming handier than she’d ever anticipated.
When he reached the top, his thumbs came together and traveled up to her collarbone and then across it to the edge of her chemise, back to the hollow at her throat. His breath stuttered as he once more neared her corset. Just as she had so easily flicked a wooden token onto a pile, he flicked a hook free of its post.
“Stop me if you object.” Another flick.
“I was actually considering offering to assist so the task is completed faster.”
“Ah, Christ.” His arms came swiftly around her, pressing her forward so where the upper swells of her breasts met landed against his open mouth, his heated breath forming dew at the tight hollow between them.
His hands returned to their earlier endeavor. Flick. Flick. Flick.
Her corset fell open, and if she wasn’t still wearing herfrock, it would have fallen to the floor instead of merely against the cloth.
“I can’t imagine how many lovers you’ve had in order to be accomplished enough to do this so unerringly in the dark.” She squeezed her eyes shut, bit her bottom lip. Why the deuce had she said that? Even worse, why had she said it in such a waspish tone? She didn’t want him to answer, didn’t want to know the number of women with whom he’d lain.
“I can remember the sequence of the cards placed in an ever-changing order within the deck. I need see something only once to recall how it goes.”
She didn’t believe for a single second that he’d only ever been with one woman, but deeply appreciated his attempt to reassure her. How many men would have boasted, would have exaggerated the number, in order to demonstrate their virility or to prove how irresistible they were? But Benedict Trewlove never felt a need to prove anything to anyone. He made no excuses for who he was, was content with who he was.
