Chapter Nineteen
Without a word of warning, Benedict swept Alex off her feet. Her legs dangling over his arms, she gasped. At the sound, he grinned down at her, smug as a lion bellowing to proclaim himself king of the jungle. What on earth had come over him?
It wasn’t like Benedict to resort to primitive displays of masculinity. She certainly hadn’t expected him to carry her up the stairs to the bedroom. The practical voice in her brain wondered at the necessity of the act. After all, she had two legs that worked quite well. She’d never entertained a fantasy of playing the helpless female swept away by the bold seducer. Yet, as the sensation of being held in the arms of a strong, vital man washed over her, she drank in his raw desire. Searching his features, she sought a powerful truth mere words could not express.
Wicked promise gleamed in his eyes. Within the depths of his gaze, an emotion far more enduring than desire darkened his hazel eyes to a rich forest hue. He wanted her. Body and soul.
Her reservations fell to the wayside.
Deep inside, something within her feminine psyche responded to the maleness he’d brought to the forefront. With a sigh, she relaxed and savored the feeling of being treasured. Of being seduced by this man she adored. She needed him as desperately as a hummingbird craved nectar.
I’ve loved him—for such a long time.
She’d lain with him when they were so very young, in those days when she’d believed he was meant for her. Of course, that had been a long time ago. Before he’d set out for Egypt. Before he’d embarked on his quest for riches. They’d been so desperate for each other. Back in those days and nights of delicious discovery, he’d seemed not quite a boy, not quite a man.
Now, there was no not quite about it. He was a man. Hardened and, at times, jaded. And yet tender. So very gentle. Wanting her pleasure, even if it meant taking none for himself.
Holding her to his heart, he regarded her as though she were quite precious, a woman to be cherished.
He loved her. In her heart, she knew that.
As much as he could love anyone, at least.
Somehow, in ways she never entirely understood, Benedict had been scarred. Mentally. And physically. He bore marks on his body, long-healed wounds in places his clothing concealed. When she’d lain with him, she’d spotted the lacerations on his back that had gone deep and mended crudely, evidently without a physician’s intervention.
Once, he’d shown up at her home in the middle of the night. One eye had been blackened, and his mouth had been cut and bleeding. He’d attributed the wounds to a brawl with another youth.
But even then, she’d known better.
Those scars had been inflicted by someone close to him. A family member. Or someone quite close to the family.
He hadn’t grieved when his father died. He’d returned to London for the funeral, then promptly settled his mother in a country house far from his Mayfair residence. Afterward, he’d returned to Egypt. Roderick remained the only enduring connection to the life Benedict had led before his sire had been interred in the family plot.
Had his father been the one who’d driven him away?
She banished the questions from her mind. She would savor this night. She’d drink in the pleasure to be found in his arms. They’d create memories that would comfort her when he took his leave and left her behind.
She relaxed as his body cradled her. His chest was hard and powerful and warm, his arms sleekly muscled and strong. She was safe with him. A soft sigh escaped her as her eyes fluttered shut.
“Oh, Alexandra, I want to love you tonight,” he whispered against her lips. “All night.”
He pushed the door to her chamber open and carried her over the threshold.
“You’re sure of this?” he asked, placing her upon the bed. Moonlight streamed through a window, gleaming gold against his hair as he sat down beside her, on the edge of the bed. Leaning over her, he smoothed a tendril of hair from her cheek. Desire gleamed in his eyes, tempered by concern. Was he afraid he would hurt her?
Oh, he would. Of that, she had little doubt. Not tonight. But soon—when he left her…again.
But she wanted this.
He was worth the risk to her heart.
“Quite so,” she said, smiling up at him. As she spoke, the truth poured out. “I do want you so very badly, Benedict. I want this night with you.”
He kissed her then, his caress speaking far more powerfully than words ever could. Standing, he stripped off his shirt and cast it onto a side chair. The soft rays of moonlight glinted over the hair on his chest and arms. Her breath caught in her throat. He was so very handsome. No, she corrected herself. Handsome was far too bland a word.
He was magnificent.
And she loved him.
Did he sense how she adored his crooked grin? How the intensity in his gaze when he looked at her shattered her every defense? Even after he’d broken her heart, she could not bring herself to resist him.
She would not deprive herself of the pleasure of his touch.
Eagerly, she offered up her heart again, making herself vulnerable to him in every way.
Was she a fool?
She didn’t want to think about that question. Not now. Not while he was hers, at least for this one delicious night.
…
Crisp, cool air prickled against Benedict’s skin. Thankful for the distraction, he pulled in a breath. His desire for Alexandra pulsed within him, threatening to push him past the limits of control.
He would not rush this. As much as he longed to strip her bare and bury himself in her lithe, supple body, he had to take this slowly. Alexandra deserved a tender seduction. She deserved passion, bliss, and ecstasy.
She deserved to be loved.
Loved.
The word echoed in his thoughts.
God above, how he loved her. Alexandra was the only woman he’d ever let into his heart, the only woman who’d ever known his secrets.
He’d love her until he took his last breath. He knew that with every beat of his heart.
And he would bring her pleasure until she was wild for him, as desperate as he was for her.
They would have this night in each other’s arms.
He didn’t shed his trousers. Not yet. He’d woo her gently, until she was hungry for his touch. For his kiss. For his body.
Rebelliously, his cock throbbed against the confines of the cloth, testing his good intentions. He pulled in a breath infused with her essence, stirring his erection. Gritting his teeth, he came back to the bed and prowled over her.
She gazed up at him with eyes that were luminous with sensual awareness. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve her passion, but he would savor her uninhibited response to his body.
“Oh, Benedict,” she whispered. “I’ve dreamed of this…I want you so very much.”
The velvety whisper filled his heart with emotion. Not quite joy. More bittersweet. He needed her with an intensity unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life.
Supporting his weight on his elbows, he kissed her until she moaned with longing. Only then did he set about the entirely pleasurable task of undressing her.
Soon, she lay bared to his eyes, the silvery moonlight touching upon her skin. His heart thudded against his ribs as the breath rushed from his lungs. She was beautiful. Slender and long-limbed yet rounded in all the right places. Supple breasts tipped with rosy nipples tantalized him with their loveliness. Odd, how she did not consider herself beautiful. As a girl, she’d found fault with her height and her long, elegant neck. She’d even despaired over her smile. To think she believed that full, rosy mouth of hers was not appealing, when the very thought of kissing those velvet lips had kept him up on more than one night.
She was perfection.
Somehow, the fact that she didn’t quite know it, that she didn’t see herself as men undoubtedly did, made her all the more appealing.
Lowering his head, he pressed kisses to the column of her throat, to that sensitive spot just below her earlobe, and then, lower. Savoring each taste of her skin as if she were a rare delicacy, he sketched a sensual path over her breasts, adoring each nipple in turn, until she moaned with the pleasure of it.
“You intend to drive me mad with wanting, don’t you, Benedict?” she teased between her little breathless pants.
“This is only the beginning, darling.”
He pressed his mouth to the softness of her belly. She wriggled in delight as he continued his leisurely exploration, urging him on with her soft entreaties and velvety sighs.
And then, he ducked his head lower still, seeking and finding that most exquisitely pleasurable spot on her female body.
The moment his tongue flicked over the nub of flesh, he thought she’d come off the bed.
A gasp escaped her. Not a protest, but rather an exclamation of surprise.
“What…what are you doing?” she managed in tiny breaths.
“You’ll like it, sweetheart,” he whispered. “If you want me to stop—”
“No—I trust you,” she murmured. He glanced up to see her eyes closed, the softest of smiles on her mouth as she embraced the intensely intimate contact.
She writhed against him, each moan and hushed cry filled with the unadulterated bliss, so very new to her.
And then, she cried out, a sound of true ecstasy. As he gathered her in his arms to ride out the storm of sensation, she trembled.
Lying at her side, he cradled her softly against his chest. Still quaking softly, she nestled closer, and he drank in her soft fragrance.
“My, you are a wicked one.” Wonder and temptation infused her words. “That was…incredible.”
“You don’t say,” he said, smiling as he cupped his palm against her cheek. “I believe I told you you’d like it.”
“And that, sir, is quite the understatement.”
As she regained her breath, she turned to him, a gamine smile on her lips. Her eyes flashed with temptation.
“Well, I’d say that was an admirable start.”
“Quite so,” he agreed. “Shall we continue, darling?”
“Of course,” she murmured, tracing little circles over his chest. She knew full well how her touch affected him, and she relished the power she had over him. “As I see it, there’s one problem.”
He hitched a brow. “And what might that be?”
The fingers that had drawn those tantalizing circles skimmed down the length of his body. Over his belly, gliding over the line of hair that trailed into his trousers. The minx smiled as her fingertips moved lower, stirring his cock to a full-bodied rebellion against the restraint of his trouser fabric.
“You, my wicked viscount, are still clothed.” Her grin broadened. “I’d say that’s rather unfair, wouldn’t you?”
“You make a valid point, my dear Alexandra. I shall have to remedy that situation.”
He shed the offending garments, then stretched out beside her on the bed. If he died and went to paradise, this night with her might well be his reward.
His erection throbbed in silent demand, but he held her in his arms. His fingers threaded through her hair, fanning the silken strands over the pillow.
His heart pulsed with a longing he might never sate. He could never get enough of her. If he lived a hundred lifetimes, he’d never tire of kissing her sweet mouth, of touching the satin of her skin. Of loving her.
He adored her, more than he’d ever cherished anything in his life. There were no words that might adequately express the emotions that filled him when he held her close to his heart.
And so, he made love to her with his body. With his soul. Until they both lay sated and spent. Somehow, deep within, he knew this was truly only the beginning. Nothing—not time, not distance—would ever change that. Without even trying, she’d claimed a piece of his soul.
Damnable shame he was not fated to be with her. Soon, he would have to leave. He’d return to his existence. And she…she’d go on with her life.
He knew that. In the long run, it would be for the best…
But that didn’t change one immutable fact.
He loved her.