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“It is quite hot…"
Harry tipped the cup and drank almost half of the contents, unbothered by the heat she had attempted to warn him about.
“No, it is not,” he said, reaching for her hand. The touch trapped her breath in her throat, and her cheeks began to feel warm. He pressed her hand to his throat, and her mouth immediately dried.
Bridget had come to him with two objectives; one to give him the tea, and two to seduce him. It appeared she was the one getting seduced. A thrill made her shiver.
“Are you cold?” His voice was low, deeper than usual, and so delectably sensual. “Perhaps you would like some tea?”
Licking her lips, she moved her hand from his throat to toy with his long hair, her desire daring her. Harry watched with an amused smile, and when she stepped closer to him, he set his teacup down, one hand gently tilting her face up while the other settled at the small of her back.
“I believe I do need some tea. From you,” she whispered, tilting her face. Her fingers lightly tugged at his hair, encouraging him to lower his head.
A joyful flutter began at the lowest part of her stomach, rising and spreading to every part of her. When his lips came very close to hers, she hoped she had triumphed.
Instead of kissing her as she thought he would, he stepped back and pushed her robe down her shoulders, his eye slowly moving down her body, sweetly searing her skin as he did so.
“Little minx,” he murmured, sliding a finger under the thin strap of her nightrail, “If you can wear this, then you are not cold.”
No, I am burning,she tried to say but the only thing that slipped past her lips was a moan and, “Harry…”
Her plea must have roused something in him because he abruptly pulled her against him and lowered his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered as a sensation she had never felt before flowed through her body, settling in the delicate place between her legs.
The mint and whiskey on his tongue intensified her need, and she grasped at his waistcoat, drawing him closer to her. Harry groaned, the sound deep and pleasurable, and cupped her buttocks, lifting her and setting her atop his desk. He parted her legs and settled between them, making her squirm and pull him closer.
She wanted all of him, and when his mouth moved from her lips down her neck to the swell of her breasts, she moaned his name and let her head fall back, her fingers twining in his hair. He tugged at the straps of her nightrail and it fell from her shoulders to her waist. His eye gleamed with hunger as he stared at her bare breasts. Her heart beat even faster, and she thought he could see it. One of his hands caressed the underside of her breast, the soft touch trailing down her ribs, past her hips, and settled on her thigh, leaving a sweet flame in its wake.
“Do you know how much you rob me of my senses?” he rasped, both of his hands caressing her thighs now, inching higher with every touch. Bridget squirmed and moaned again, silently begging him to touch her where she wanted him the most.
His lips returned to her neck and his tongue made sensuous circles on her skin, moving lower until he captured one of her nipples in his mouth and wickedly twirled his tongue around them. Her fingers tightened in his hair, her breath came in short gasps, and she began to tremble in his arms. Harry must have loved her reaction because he groaned and sucked on her other nipple.
His hand began to stroke her inner thigh, and her legs parted more for him. Something urgent ran through her. “Harry…please,” she moaned, unable to take any more of the sweet torture without satiation.
Harry abruptly straightened and reclaimed her lips, then he pushed his pelvis into her, his straining manhood pressing into her center. Very slowly, he began to grind his pelvis while his teeth grazed her bottom lip.
Without thinking, she found the strap that held his patch and began to toy with it. Harry immediately stiffened, then pulled away altogether, his gaze clouded.
Chapter 14
Bridget’s heart twisted in her chest because she knew that touching his patch had done this. She began to reach for him but he took another step away from her, turning to pick up her robe from the floor.
“You should return to your chambers,” he said, his voice hoarse as he held her robe out to her.
She blinked in confusion. She knew she should not have touched his patch, and for the life of her, she could not tell why she had done it. An explanation would be that she had been overcome by the pleasure of the moment. Harry had awakened a hunger in her so primal she wanted to run back into his arms. But she knew the moment had passed, and the man that had been loving her body was no longer there.
“Harry, I—"
“Please.” He held a hand up to stop her from speaking. Swallowing her disappointment, she donned her robe, studying his expression. There was no displeasure there, only something she could not understand.
And he did not give her time to fathom anything before he said, “Shall I escort you back?” He held his arm to her. It was not a question despite the phrasing.
Bridget took it, noting how tense he still was. They walked up the stairs in silence. He appeared to be lost in his thoughts while she was wrapped in disappointment and perplexity. Something unpleasant coiled in her stomach, and she wished he would explain why he was the way he was. If she could better understand him, then she would know how to act.
At her door, he removed her hand from his arm and kissed her knuckles, lingering as he raised his eye to meet her gaze. Heat flooded her all over again for the need she saw simmering in his gaze. It mirrored hers, and again, she wanted to draw him close, draw out the man that had shown her intense passion only moments ago.
“Thank you for the tea,” he murmured, still holding her eyes.
“You are most welcome, Harry.” She opened the door but did not enter, giving him a chance to follow her. Her heart jumped with hope when he eyed both her and the open door, but it fell when he only gave her a nod and turned to leave.
