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Rosaline plucked at his waistcoat. “Areyouwarm in this? Go on, take it off.”
He stepped back with a grin. “Anything Your Grace commands.”
“Oh, I like it when you call meYour Grace.”
“Trust me, the title will lose its novelty.”
Holding her gaze, Benedict undid button after button, sliding his waistcoat off his shoulders and sending it the same way as his coat and cravat. He toed off his boots next, blacked to a high shine, and tossed them into different corners of the rooms.
Then came the shirt. Benedict pulled it up over his head in one smooth movement, and Rosaline’s breath caught in her throat.
They’d never really seen each other in a proper state of undress. Their illicit activities took place hurriedly, with one eye on the door and all clothes more or less in place.
This was something new.
Benedict’s chest was broad, thickly muscled, and delicately furred with dark hair. The curves and contours of his abdomen swept down to a tightly toned waist, two deep lines of muscle on either side of his groin disappearing below his waistband.
Rosaline slunk closer without having actually decided to move closer, one hand tentatively outstretched. She glanced up at Benedict, and he stepped forward, touching his chest to her hand.
She rested her head on his bare chest, listening to his heart beat in her ear. His skin was silky smooth and warm, and his soft hair tickled her bare arms.
Benedict’s fingertips skimmed up her arms, and Rosaline gave a sigh at the sensation. Then his fingers were in her hair, unpinning the style that poor Margaret had labored on for hours.
It came down much more quickly than it had gone up. The heavy, warm weight of her hair tumbled down over her shoulders, almost at the same moment that Benedict hooked a finger around the strap of her chemise, letting it fall to the ground.
That left Rosaline naked, but it didn’t feel wrong. She didn’t feel exposed, or cold, or awkward at all. She stepped back, letting Benedict’s eyes rove over her body.
“Beautiful.” He breathed.
“Now you. Come on. Fair’s fair.”
Benedict laughed aloud at that. “Fair’s fair? This isn’t a card game.”
“Well, if it is, I’m losing.”
Benedict dived forward at that, scooping her up into his arms.
“Oh, but you’re going to win tonight, my dear duchess. Several times, I should think.”
He moved over to the bed, effortlessly depositing Rosaline on top. Benedict hastily pulled down his breeches and under-things, kicking them away without much thought at all.
He crawled onto the bed, and Rosaline rolled onto her back, letting him fit their bodies together. Benedict kissed her again, on her lips, her face, her neck, lower and lower until she twisted her fingers in his hair and sighed with pleasure.
Then Benedict slid up her body again, breathless and disheveled, sliding his hand up her thighs to part her legs.
“Are you alright?” he murmured. “Rosaline, darling, are you alright?”
“Of course I am. Is it going to hurt?”
“No.” Benedict said, nuzzling the side of her neck. “I won’t let it hurt. I won’t let anything hurt you, ever.”
Rosaline let him kiss her and touch her, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
“Iknow you won’t.” she whispered into his hair. “You never would. I love you, Benedict.”
Benedict arranged her so that she straddled him, controlling the speed and depth of their movements. Rosaline rolled her hips, gaining momentum. The movement was strangely natural – the most natural thing in the world. She tipped her head, closing her eyes as she neared her climax. She felt Benedict’s warm hands on her hips, guiding her movements.
“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured.
