The Seduction Scheme

by Kim Lawrence

  She’d have been happy to worship from afar, but he hadn’t kept his distance; he’d told her she was the most beautiful girl in the world and she’d believed him. His declaration of love had been the fulfilment of all her adolescent fantasies—what followed had been inevitable.

  The next week he’d come back to the villa, only this time he’d had a lovely young actress on his arm and in his bed. He’d treated her with the same avuncular affection as his brother; it was as if he genuinely didn’t remember. It was only later that she understood. At the time she’d been bewildered and miserable; her youthful idealism had suffered a death-blow. She’d developed a convenient dose of terminal homesickness about then and the Faurés had been sorry to see her go, but understanding. Happily for them, they were nice people; they hadn’t suspected anything.

  ‘Chastity has a lot going for it. Sex just isn’t important to me.’

  ‘Is that a fact?’ he said, not bothering to hide his scepticism.

  ‘I just said so, didn’t I?’

  She realised about two seconds too late how easily her vaguely belligerent stance could have been interpreted as a challenge. It was one Benedict seemed very ready to accept. His mouth was hot and urgent—almost angry as it covered her own. The taste of him detonated an equally violent response within her; it ripped away all the elaborate barriers she’d constructed.

  Her body arched as his strong arms lifted her upwards until her toes were the only things still in contact with the ground. His hard thighs ground rhythmically against her softer, more fragile frame. There was salty moisture on her skin as his dark head moved to touch, taste and torment her. Her fingers clenched tight in the dense thickness of his hair and a startled cry escaped the confines of her tight throat as her back suddenly collided with the wall.

  He lifted his head at the sound. For a moment they were eye to eye and she saw the blaze of savage triumph in his dark, passion-glazed eyes. He nipped slowly at her trembling lip, letting his tongue slide into the sweet moistness within.

  ‘You’re…’ she whispered hoarsely. She could hardly breathe; this sweet ache was smothering her. Hunger, viscous and warm, nibbled away at her restraints.

  ‘I’m what? What am I, Rachel?’ he persisted. As she turned her face into his shoulder he drew back fractionally; with a finger under her chin he forced her to face him. ‘Tell me.’ His free hand slid up her thigh, pausing momentarily only when his questing fingertips made contact with the edge of her hold-up stockings. She felt the tension that coiled in his muscles hike up a notch and heard his razor-sharp gasp.

  His hand settled around the curve of her taut buttock. ‘You’re cruel and very…very beautiful, Ben.’ He was cruel to make her want him like this…make her love… She gasped and suddenly went limp in his arms.

  ‘This wasn’t meant to happen here,’ he said thickly as he stared down into her face. Her eyelashes flickered against her cheek; she looked barely conscious. But she was alive; the vigorous rise and fall of her breasts were evidence of that.

  It wasn’t the only thing that wasn’t meant to happen, she thought in dazed disbelief as his thumb and forefinger moved up her neck before coming to rest on the pointed angle of her firm chin. His right arm was taking almost all her weight.

  ‘Nothing’s going to happen,’ she said dazedly as she looked up at him. His taut features made it quite clear he was firmly in the grip of rampant desire. The evidence of this was pressed against the cradle of her hips. Trying to twist free only increased the intimate pressure. The heavy, dragging sensation had pooled low and deep in her abdomen; it was treacherously sweet.

  ‘I’ve heard of denial but this is ridiculous.’

  She felt the deep shudder through his body and the shivery, hot sensations in the pit of her belly responded with mindless pleasure to this evidence of his own lack of control. The dark excitement didn’t respond to her wishes—at least not the wishes she consciously acknowledged.

  She could see the dark pupil had swallowed up the colour of his iris completely. There was a faint sheen over his finely textured olive skin. Without thinking she reached out and ran a finger down his lean cheek. The light shadow on his skin had a fascinatingly abrasive quality. She pressed her damp finger to her lips and shivered as she tasted the faintly salty moisture.

  The only flicker of movement in his entire body was the faintest stirring of his eyelashes. He didn’t even appear to be breathing—this fact was confirmed when he did eventually take a deep, shuddering breath.

  ‘Ben…’

  ‘Hush,’ he ordered huskily. His finger traced the outline of her quivering mouth before sliding inside her parted lips. The intimacy was totally devastating. ‘I love your mouth. You try and make it all prim and proper and all the time it’s just saying, Taste me, kiss me.’

  She moaned out loud and pressed the back of her hand to her lips as he ran his tongue over the finger he’d just used to explore her mouth.

  ‘You taste so sweet. I really like the idea of you tasting me. Would you like that?’ he persisted throatily.

  The erotic picture his sinful words were building made her dizzy. Her fingers tightened convulsively on the fabric of his shirt and several buttons came adrift. She felt the fabric part and even though she tried desperately not to she found herself looking downwards.

  The skin over his washboard-flat belly was smooth and the tan was too dark to be attributed solely to his olive complexion. She wanted to touch him so badly, tears stung the back of her eyelids. Her body was convulsed by a feverish shudder.

  ‘Perhaps you’re right. I should just have sex with you!’ The words emerged suddenly, loud and harsh. She didn’t have many defences left. ‘Get it all over and done with and things can go back to normal with your giant-sized ego intact—after all, no woman can refuse Ben Arden, superstud!’

  Benedict lifted his head. Melting capitulation would have been nice, but Benedict wasn’t a man easily discouraged. He knew a last-ditch effort when he saw one.

  ‘There’s no perhaps about it,’ he replied huskily.

  The sexy rasp combined with the suggestive heat in his eyes made her want to endorse his view. Hold on, Rachel, she told herself, harnessing her runaway tongue firmly; you’re trying to defuse this situation, not ignite it!

  ‘It’s probably the simplest way to get this out of your system.’ She tried to imply she was nothing but a disinterested observer—it wasn’t easy.

  ‘Is this the point where I’m supposed to be so offended by your icy detachment that I retire, my ego irretrievably bruised?’ To her horror he looked amused.

  ‘I’m just being realistic. Would you prefer I got all emotional?’ Perhaps she should just confess she’d fallen in love with him—that should be more than enough to make him back off, she thought bitterly.

  ‘Of course this strategy of yours only works if you endow me with finer feelings. If I don’t recoil in disgust and say “Yes, please”, you’ve just shot yourself in the foot,’ he pointed out helpfully. ‘As for a superstud?’ He shook his head from side to side reprovingly and grimaced. ‘I might just have such a high opinion of my sexual prowess that I’m confident you’ll come running back for more. Or I might be callous and selfish enough to turn a blind eye to your obvious lack of interest in the whole sordid business if it means slaking my terrible lust. I really don’t think you’ve thought this one through properly, Rachel.’

  ‘I wouldn’t actually go to bed with you!’ she protested weakly.

  ‘On the other hand,’ he mused, ‘if your surrender is couched in those terms you can rationalise it as being the only logical solution to a trying problem—a sacrifice for the greater good. Can it be I was doing you an injustice?’ he wondered out loud. ‘This removes any nasty nagging problems about how you’re going to explain to yourself that you want me in your bed. And you just can’t do that, can you, my love?’

  ‘I’m not your love,’ she choked, using up her last reserves of defiance.

  ‘And you’ll
probably hate me tomorrow,’ he agreed with a placidity that was contradicted by the fierce predatory glitter in his eyes.

  ‘I hate you now.’

  ‘That’s a start.’

  ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘The jury’s still out.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ she yelped as he swept her up into his arms. God help me, I’m enjoying playing the weak, defenceless female! she thought.

  ‘My office has a lock and a sofa.’

  The idea of a locked door gave her a completely false sense of security. ‘And you have the key?’ she asked, breathing hard; she’d abandoned all pretence of rejection.

  ‘No,’ he said, pressing something cold into her hand. ‘You have.’

  Rachel discovered the sofa was softly upholstered and the material was smooth against her naked back. The lacy bra she wore was almost but not quite transparent, and Benedict found the almost part incredibly arousing—at least that was what he said and his actions thereafter tended to confirm this statement.

  He was kneeling beside the sofa and seeing his dark head against her as his mouth closed around the outline of her nipple where it showed dark through the flimsy fabric was incredibly erotic. She wore only the lacy pair of pants that matched the bra but he was still fully clothed, although his jacket did lie somewhere at the side of the room where he had impatiently thrown it.

  Without warning he suddenly touched the skimpy triangle of lace that barely concealed the soft, protective thatch between her legs. She jerked with shock at the intimate touch and wound one pale thigh protectively over the other.

  ‘Don’t you like that?’

  She did; she liked it very much. Eyes on his, hardly able to credit her own daring, she straightened her legs.

  ‘Yes,’ she said throatily as she parted her thighs for his touch. The act of symbolic submission felt thrillingly erotic.

  ‘It gets better,’ he promised huskily. It did; the sight of his dark head bent over her, the feel of his mouth moving against the thin fabric was almost unbearably exciting. His fingers quested sensitively towards the hot core of her desire.

  ‘Stop,’ she pleaded. ‘I can’t bear…’

  ‘So long as you remind me where I was…later,’ he conceded. ‘I think you could do with room for expansion up here,’ he mused as he lifted his head. His thumb moved rhythmically against her flattened nipple; the burning sensation made her stomach muscles contract violently.

  Holding his eyes, she leant slightly forward and unhooked the bra fastening. ‘Is this better?’

  His nostrils flared and the muscles of his throat worked as he stared at the gentle sway of her pale-pink-tipped breasts.

  ‘It’s perfect; you’re perfect,’ he groaned thickly. ‘The first time I saw you you weren’t wearing a bra under that blue dress…’

  ‘Lilac.’

  ‘And I could see how lovely and full and firm you were then. When you bent forward I could see just enough to…’ He cleared his throat noisily. Benedict Arden blushing? That couldn’t be right. ‘Let’s just say enough to drive me crazy. Take them off.’ He hooked a thumb in the elasticated waist of her lacy pants.

  ‘Do it for me?’ she pleaded huskily.

  The agonisingly slow progress of his fingers down her thighs was almost unbearable. Free of the confinement, her hips stirred and rotated as, eyes tightly shut, she imagined him moving inside her…filling her… The choking sound he made forced her to open her eyes. The molten ferocity of his tense features convinced her he was sharing her fantasy. He looked as if he was on the brink of losing control. The idea was both exciting and appalling.

  ‘Now come here and let me finish what I started,’ she purred huskily.

  He looked on with half-closed eyes as her trembling fingers slid free the remaining buttons on his shirt. The glitter she could see within the slits of his eyes made her even more clumsy. She dragged the fabric back to reveal the broad expanse of his bronzed torso; the faint sheen of moisture made his satiny skin glow. His body was built on truly magnificent lines, though his impressive musculature was not unduly bulky; he was built for flexibility, speed and grace, not just strength.

  Fingers splayed, she laid her hands on him and sighed deeply. Mesmerised by the texture of his warm skin, she let her fingers move sensuously, delighting in the sharp contractions of his muscles. Her fingers slid under the waistband of his trousers and she felt a tiny quiver of uncertainty. She looked up and the expression in his eyes sent her confidence soaring.

  His trousers had slipped down to his lean hips and she could see the line of hair that narrowed to a dark line that disappeared beneath the white cotton he wore underneath.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Suddenly he sounded concerned and she lifted her head sharply, sending her thick hair fanning cloud-like about her flushed face. She tried to speak and realised that her breathing had become a series of staccato, uneven gasps. She pressed her hands to his shoulders to steady herself and tried to draw adequate breath into her lungs.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Then, in a rush of honesty, she admitted, ‘I don’t know my own body, not when you touch me, or I touch you. I don’t recognise any of the things I’m feeling, Ben.’

  She’d not acted on impulse since she was a green teenager but something compelled her to do so now. This was something she just had to share with him.

  ‘It feels as if this is happening to someone else.’

  The feverish, reckless glow in his eyes deepened. ‘Perhaps I should make this more personal—more real.’

  ‘There’s plenty of room here.’

  ‘Slow might not be an option once I join you there,’ he confessed, looking at the narrow space she patted with sultry invitation.

  ‘It’s a risk I’m willing to take.’

  ‘Comfortable?’ he asked as he cleverly insinuated his body under hers.

  ‘Not really the word I’d use,’ she gasped, finding herself sitting astride him. His back was against the arm of the sofa and they were eye to eye.

  Then she wasn’t using any words at all because he was guiding her nipple into his mouth. The slow, sumptuous friction of his tongue and lips was agonisingly arousing.

  Rachel gave a deep moan and her body jerked violently before sagging against him. One of his hands rested in the small of her back and the other sank into her hair. The sweeping motion as his fingers sank into the luxuriant growth pulled her head backwards, leaving her neck sinews taut. His mouth moved upwards to the irresistible temptation of the graceful curve, leaving a trail of burning kisses. The warm scent rising from his skin made her body ache almost as much as his expert touch. Expert.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, picking up on her sudden mental withdrawal almost instantaneously. His breath was hot against her cheek as his tongue moved in lazy, teasing circles over the ultra-sensitive skin beside her ear.

  Chin resting against his shoulder, her body leaning bonelessly against him, she slid her arms tightly around his middle, pulling tightly as if the contact would ease the sudden flurry of insecurities.

  ‘I’m not exactly experienced…I haven’t done this for…’ Before she hadn’t really been a participant at all. Her contribution had been compliance. Ben wanted more than that. What if she disappointed him? ‘My body isn’t perfect…I’ve had a child.’

  ‘Do you think I’m asking for perfection?’ He sounded angry and when he forced her chin up he looked it, too. His dark eyes were filled with a resentment she didn’t quite understand. ‘Do you think making love can be rated on a scale of one to ten? There hasn’t been a measurement invented that can accurately describe the way it feels to touch your skin.’

  ‘Try,’ she said, intoxicated and immensely relieved by the sincerity of his words. ‘Try and tell me?’

  ‘It’s easier if I show you.’ He firmly guided her hand downwards to the painfully congested area between his thighs. His response to her light touch made her gasp and smile with greedy, erotic satisfaction. Lips parted slightly,
she lifted her passion-glazed gaze to his face.

  ‘This thing limits our options.’ He banged his head against the upholstered arm before sliding dramatically downwards and pulling her with him. ‘It’s either you up there and me down here, or me up here—’ her soft shriek was smothered by the erotic imprint of his marauding mouth ‘—and you down there. The choice is yours.’

  ‘I’m easy.’

  Deep laughter vibrated in his chest. ‘Would that were true. What are you…?’ He inclined his head to see her drag his already loosened trousers and his shorts over his hips. She felt the hot, hard tip of his arousal nudge against her belly and fought hard to retain control. The gap between consciousness and dark oblivion was dangerously close.

  ‘I’m showing initiative,’ she said, lifting her head just close enough for the tip of her tongue to lap back and forward over the dark stud of one male nipple. She reached up and pulled his shirt, which flapped around them, a couple of inches down over the flexed muscles of his shoulders. The fabric didn’t give and the constriction caused him to collapse down on his elbows.

  ‘I’ll squash you,’ he warned hoarsely.

  ‘I like being squashed by you,’ she reassured him. She hooked her legs up and around his waist, locking her ankles firmly over his back.

  ‘Rachel!’ he rumbled in warning, the contorted expression on his face reflecting the strain he was under. He slid between her thighs because there was nowhere else for him to go. ‘I can’t move.’

  ‘You can. You can move exactly where I want you to go.’

  ‘I’ve never made love with my shoes on. My clothes.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we can work around them.’ Only one thing could satisfy her now.