by Anna Bradley
But Benedict knew better, and so it was up to him to deny her, to pull away—
“Just for a little while, until I fall asleep,” she whispered, tugging him closer.
That whisper brushed across his skin like a caress, sparking across his nerve endings, and Benedict cursed himself for a fool as all thought of denial fled and he crawled across the bed to lie down next to her. He was careful to leave an ocean of empty bed between them, a thousand warnings not to touch her, not to lay a single finger on her whirling through his head even as his cock pressed eagerly against his falls.
When he didn’t make any move to take her into his arms, Georgiana raised herself onto her elbow and peered down at him. “You don’t look terribly comfortable, Benedict.”
“Nonsense. I’m as snug as a kitten in a basket.” A bald-faced lie, of course. He’d be more comfortable lying on a bed of iron spikes than he was lying here beside her, knowing he couldn’t touch her. “Go to sleep,” he added, squeezing his eyes shut and resigning himself to a night of torture.
“Don’t you want to take off your coat? Your waistcoat too, I think, and your cravat.”
Benedict nearly whimpered. “No. I prefer to sleep in my clothes. Go to sleep.”
He lay there with his arms at his sides, his entire body as rigid as a stick of wood, and prayed she’d leave it there, fall asleep, and leave him alone in his misery.
She was quiet for a moment, but then she stirred again, and he felt her fingertips brush his chin. He gasped, nearly jumping out of his skin. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you remove your cravat. I can’t sleep if I think you’re uncomfortable, and it’s crooked, anyway.” Her knuckles brushed against the sensitive skin of his throat as her nimble fingers worked on the folds. Finally, she got it unwound and slid it from his neck. “There, that’s one knot à la Haslemere undone. Now your coat.”
Benedict wasn’t usually slow to catch on when a woman wanted him, nor was he usually slow to take advantage of such a fortunate occurrence. Tonight, his brain was befuddled with love and desire, but at last it dawned on him what Georgiana was doing. “Are you…are you trying to take my clothes off?”
She let out a soft chuckle. “Yes. I confess I didn’t think it would take so much effort. Perhaps you’d be willing to help me?”
“No! That is, I mean…” Benedict shook his head to clear it. “You do realize what’s much more likely to happen between us if you strip off my clothing, don’t you?”
“I have some idea, yes.” She’d been trying to tug his arm out of his sleeve, but now she paused. “If you don’t want me—”
She let out a little squeal of surprise as Benedict heaved himself up and with one quick move rolled her onto her back and stretched out on top of her, his chest heaving with emotion. “Don’t you dare say I don’t want you. I do want you. I have since I first laid eyes on you, and you called me a selfish, useless rake.”
Georgiana’s lips quirked. “I never called you a rake that first night. I called you a scoundrel.”
“Ah, yes. I remember now.” Benedict stroked a fingertip over her lips so he might memorize that sly little smile. “Yet in spite of your cruelty, I want you more than any woman I’ve ever known.”
Her eyes went wide. “You want me more than Lady Wylde?”
“Lady Wylde!” Benedict gave her an incredulous look. “Why does Lady Wylde keep coming into it? I haven’t given her a single thought since the day after her masque ball, whereas your face haunts me no matter where I am, or what I’m doing. How can you even imagine she compares to you?”
“But she’s very…and I’m just—”
Another rumble tore from his chest, and he silenced her by pressing his fingers to her lips. “Not another word about Lady Wylde, Georgiana. Do you understand me? She’s of no importance to me at all.”
Georgiana peeked up at him and gave a quick nod.
“Good.” Benedict reluctantly pulled his fingers away from her soft, warm lips, and dragged a hand through his hair. “This isn’t about my not wanting you, Georgiana. Far from it.”
She twisted one of the buttons on his coat. “This is our only chance, Benedict,” Georgiana whispered, the ache in her throat unbearable. How could she let him go without spending a night in his arms?
Benedict’s breath caught. “Do you want me, Georgiana?”
She nodded, still avoiding his gaze, but that wasn’t enough for Benedict. He tipped her chin up with his fingers. “Look at me. When you tell a man you want him, you say it aloud, Georgiana, and you look him in the eyes.”
Her eyes met his, and the faint embers still glowing in the grate were reflected in their golden-brown depths. “I-I want you, Benedict. I can no longer remember a time I didn’t want you.”
Her words flowed through him, touching every place inside him, then settling in his heart. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss into her palm, but he was already shaking his head. “You shouldn’t want me, sweetheart. Nothing but heartbreak will come from it.”
“Please don’t say you’ll break my heart because you’re a rake or a rogue or a blackguard who cares for no one, because it’s not true. I may have thought that of you once, but that was before…” Her throat moved in a rough swallow. “Before I knew you. You’re a loving, caring brother and uncle, and…and a good man, Benedict.”
Benedict’s eyes drifted closed at her words. He loved her, and to hear her say she believed he was a good man meant everything to him. All he could do, the best he could do was be worthy of her faith in him. “Listen to me, love. I…I’m taking Jane and Freddy away, Georgiana. The only way I can be sure they’ll be safe from Kenilworth is if we leave England.”
For a brief moment, Georgiana’s dark eyelashes swept down to hide her eyes. They were glistening when she opened them again. “Where will you go?”
“North America. I don’t think…I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to return, Georgiana. Do you think I’d steal your innocence only to abandon you?”
He shifted to move away from the temptation of her, but she twined her arms around his neck, stopping him. “You can’t steal something I’m offering to give you, Benedict.”
“You think so now, Georgiana, but later, after I’m gone, you’ll regret—”
“No. My only regret will be not giving myself to the man I love.” She slid her hands from the back of his neck to his face, cupping his cheeks in her palms. She could only give the gift of her innocence to one man, and she would give it to the man who already held her heart. “If it isn’t you, Benedict, it won’t be anyone.”
* * * *
It was nothing but the truth, and a truth that came from the very depths of her, from a place so deep in her soul no one had ever touched it before. She’d thought no one ever would.
Until him.
With that realization came the feelings she’d evaded for so long, a raging flood of them, one wave after the next, so strong, so relentless nothing could hold them back, nothing could stop them.
There was nothing left for her to do but feel them, and it was as frightening as she’d always imagined it would be to be at their mercy. Yet at the same time it was glorious to feel them unfurling like a clenched fist opening inside her.
Benedict didn’t speak, but the emotions running wild inside her must have shown on her face, because he made a choked sound, and then…
Then he was kissing her, his hands buried in her hair and his lips tender and demanding at once. “Open for me, Georgiana,” he whispered against her lips, and she did as he commanded, her lips yielding to his hot, coaxing tongue.
“You taste so sweet, like Mrs….Mrs….confound it, what’s Gray’s cook’s name again? The one who makes the quince preserves?”
She blinked up at him. “Are you talking to me about Lord Gray’s cook while you’re kissing me, Lord Haslemere?�
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Benedict dropped a kiss on the end of her nose. “Hush. I’m trying to be romantic by telling you that you taste sweeter than the sweetest fruits, and you’re ruining it.”
“I beg your pardon.” Georgiana tucked her face against his neck to smother a laugh. “It’s Mrs. Beeson.”
“Right. Mrs. Beeson.” His lips curved in a smile against her temple. “Unfortunately, I think the moment has passed, so I’ll just say you’ve cursed me with your sweet tooth, and now I can’t get enough of you.”
Georgiana thought that quite romantic indeed, and urged his face down to hers, eager for his lips. He crooned to her as he took her mouth again and again, jumbled words of passion and tenderness, his whispers hot against her mouth and the tender skin of her throat and neck. She couldn’t make sense of everything he said, but it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter, because she could feel it in the brush of his lips against hers, each dizzying stroke of his tongue in her mouth.
He murmured to her as he nibbled and licked his way from her lips to her jaw, and from there to her throat, the lobe of her ear. She cried out when his teeth closed over that sensitive flesh, her body arching under his. “Oh, that’s…”
“Yes? What is it, princess? Tell me.” His wicked lips danced over her skin, nuzzling into the secret place behind her ear before suckling at her lobe again, a quiet laugh escaping him when she arched under him a second time.
“It’s…it makes me shiver.” Georgiana sank her fingers into his thick hair and gave it a quick, sharp tug that made him moan. A bolt of pure, feminine pride shot through her at his obvious pleasure, and all at once she was desperate to get closer to him, to feel his warm skin against hers. “Take this off.” She gave the hem of his waistcoat a fruitless tug, then her restless fingers tugged open the buttons of his coat and tried to drag it over his broad shoulders. “It’s too tight!”
He nipped at the hollow of her throat. “I’ll have you know that’s a perfectly tailored Weston coat.”
Georgiana ceased her struggles with the tight sleeves and raised an eyebrow at him. “Does that mean you wish to leave it on?”
“God, no.” A grin crossed his lips as he wrestled his way out of his coat and waistcoat, threw them on the floor, then eased himself back on top of her, taking care not to crush her. “There. Are you satisfied, madam?”
Georgiana hardly heard him, she was so distracted by the smooth expanse of his bare throat and the hard chest revealed by the open neckline of his shirt. “This is very nice, right here.” She traced the hollow of his throat, then fanned her fingers over the length of his collarbones.
He seemed to hold his breath as her fingers wandered over the muscles of his shoulders and arms and his taut, straining biceps, then let it out in a low moan as she scored her fingernails lightly over the warm flesh of his back. “You’re driving me mad, Georgiana.”
“I am?” She paused in her caresses. “But dozens of ladies must have touched you here before me.”
The corners of her mouth turned down in a frown at the thought, but he swooped down and kissed it from her lips. “No ladies who matter the way you do.”
“Oh.” She gave him a shy smile. “I think I like driving you mad.”
He pulled back to gaze down at her. “You always drive me mad, without even trying to. Your sharp tongue, the occasional flash of temper in your eyes, your smile, that enticing way you bite your bottom lip—everything about you drives me mad, Georgiana. I’ve been on the verge of ravishing you from the moment I met you that night in Maiden Lane.”
Georgiana’s mouth fell open. “But I was horrible to you that night!”
“I know.” He grinned, obviously relishing the memory. “No lady has ever dared to scold me like that before. It was…stirring.”
Georgiana fingered the neckline of his shirt, peeking up at him from under her eyelashes. “What do you suppose would happen if I tried to drive you mad?”
He let out a strained laugh. “You’d find yourself with a deeply aroused earl in your bed, and you might regret it. Aroused earls are demanding creatures.”
“Hmmm. I think I’d like to see for myself.” Georgiana tugged on the hem of Benedict’s shirt. “Take this off.”
Benedict didn’t need any more coaxing. He rose to his knees, tore his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor behind him. “As you wish, Miss Harley. May I remove anything else for your pleasure?”
Georgiana was vaguely aware he’d asked her a question, but she was so distracted by the sight of his bare chest she didn’t reply. He was…dear God, the long, lean lines of him, his broad shoulders and muscled arms and the hair-roughened expanse of his hard chest…
He was magnificent. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to tear her eyes away from him. Until he moaned, that is, and her gaze flew to his face. “Is…is something wrong?”
“The way you’re looking at me.” His voice was hoarse, his dark eyes burning with heat. “It feels like my skin is on fire.”
Georgiana’s tongue crept out to touch the corner of her mouth as she reached out her hand and lay her palm flat against his ridged stomach. “You, ah, you do feel rather warm.”
Benedict took her wrist in his hand and slid her palm up his torso to the center of his chest. “Touch me, Georgiana.”
Georgiana dragged her hand slowly over his heated skin, caressing his shoulders, the strong column of his neck and his bare chest, mesmerized by the smooth skin under the sprinkling of dark red hair, the tickle of it against her palms.
He kept his gaze on her face as she stroked him, his lips parted, his burning eyes watching every shift in her expression until the edge of her thumb grazed his nipple. He sucked in a breath at her touch, his eyes squeezing closed.
“Benedict?” Georgiana snatched her hand away. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” He caught her hand in his and dragged it back to his chest. “Touch me there again.”
Georgiana did as he bid her, stroking her thumb lightly over his nipple once, then again. He let out a ragged moan, his throat and chest flushing and his nipple stiffening under the pad of her finger. She went on stroking him with both her hands on his chest, her thumbs tracing circles around each of his nipples.
“Yes,” he hissed when she scraped her fingernail over the rigid peak. “Again.”
She hesitated, then did it again, catching her bottom lip in her teeth when his body jerked under her hands. Was this what he meant by driving him mad? “Does it…does it feel good?”
Benedict’s eyes had gone dark and sleepy under heavy eyelids. “Let me show you.”
Georgiana gave a tiny nod, a soft sigh rising to her lips when Benedict caught her wrists and raised her arms over her head, then settled his big, warm hands on her sides, close to her breasts, but not yet touching.
“It feels like you’re pulling a string inside me here.” He lay a heavy palm on her lower belly. “It pulls tighter with every touch, an unbearable tension building inside you, so deliciously tight, Georgiana, until you become desperate to release it.”
He began touching her then, just a light stroke of his thumbs against her sides. Just that soft, simple touch was enough to make her breath catch, but then his thumbs were edging closer to her nipples, closer still, and they were already stiffening for him, aching for his touch…
She cried out when it came at last, a quick caress, as light as a breath. Georgiana opened her mouth to beg for more, but before she could get the word out, Benedict’s hands were on her again, stroking and teasing, gentle at first, but relentless, and then firmer as she began to squirm under him. He circled and pinched her tender nipples until her back was arching to get closer to those wicked fingers. More, she needed more…
“Do you feel it, Georgiana? That knot, deep inside you?” His dark eyes glittered down at her. “So tight. It’s maddening, isn’t it? That’s why you’re squirmi
ng for me, princess—because you want me to soothe that ache.”
Georgiana was so lost in his touch and his wicked words she didn’t notice his hands had moved to the back of her gown to release her buttons until she felt the tantalizing slide of cool air across her skin and realized the bodice of her gown was now bunched around her waist.
Benedict drew back a little, sitting on his heels as he stared down at her, his gaze moving from her stiff nipples to her lips, then back to her eyes. “I’ve dreamed about you like this, Georgiana. I can see your nipples through your chemise. Such a dusky pink, and so hard for me.” He tweaked one, then squeezed it gently between his forefinger and thumb.
“Oh.” Georgiana gave a soft gasp as he did it again, pinching the turgid peak until she couldn’t lie still anymore.
“Yes,” he whispered when her head fell back. “You need more.”
It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t wait for an answer before he brought his mouth down to her breast, his lips closing around one stiff peak. Georgiana gasped again, her hands sinking into his hair as he licked at her nipple, quick, hard strokes with his tongue, his hot breath turning ragged as a moan broke from her lips.
She whimpered when he lifted his head, her fingers tightening in his hair to bring him back to her breasts.
“Shhh.” Benedict brushed a curl back from her forehead. “I want to make you feel good, Georgiana. Will you let me touch you?”
Georgiana, who’d nearly started weeping when he stopped touching her, gave him a dazed nod. “Yes. Please, Benedict.”
He brushed his lips over hers, then kissed his way down her neck, pausing to taste the hollow of her throat before he moved lower, his lips grazing her breasts. He sucked a tender peak into his mouth as he trailed his fingertips up her leg, dragging her skirts up as he went.
Georgiana gasped when he touched the soft tuft of hair between her thighs. For long moments he simply stroked her there, letting his fingers drift through her curls until she grew restless for more of his touch, her legs parting as she squirmed against him. She caught her breath when he slipped a finger between her damp folds, delving gently, rolling his fingertip over the swollen nub and making her cry out.
