Chapter Eleven

Intermission could not come soon enough for Henry, and excusing himself, he left the box. A glass of whisky was what he needed. Something, anything to try to quell the burning desire he had for Sophie sitting beside him. A temptation that he could not taste. Not in the box, in any case.

He closed his eyes, taking a calming breath, and could still smell the lingering scent of strawberries that hung about her, making her smell good enough to eat.

What had happened to him these past days? He was not himself, and the more time he spent with Sophie, the more he wanted her in all the delicious, debase, sexually arousing ways a man could have a woman.

Not that he knew much of what that entailed, but damn, he would like to learn with her.

A prickling of concern thrummed through him with each stride down the hall that he would not be enough for her. His lack of experience and inability to really know what he was doing would disappoint her.

Surely that would not be the case. She was a maid, after all. How much could she know of what happened between a man and woman when they were intimate?

He had nothing to be ashamed of but did not want to leave her unsatisfied. As much as he had read extensively on what occurred during the sexual act, everything seemed foreign and odd to put into practice.

He came to the top of the stairs leading down to the foyer and spied several footmen with trays of refreshments. He went downstairs and took a glass of champagne, downing it just as other guests started to swamp the foyer.

Finishing his drink, he returned upstairs and found several other guests in the box he shared this evening, but Sophie was not one of them. Stepping out into the corridor, determined to find her, he spied her going into the lady's retiring room several doors down.

He could not meet her there. That would not do at all. They had agreed to be discreet while they got to know each other. Forced to marry now may lead to a mistake they would both regret, and he could not stomach that. She deserved only the best.

He strolled down the hall, pacing as close to the retiring room as he could without appearing too strange. Several ladies leaving the room threw him odd looks, but he merely smiled, confusing them further. Sophie stepped out into the corridor and caught sight of him, a small smile playing about her lips.

"You disappeared with haste," she said, a little circumspection to her tone he wished he had not placed there.

He walked them along the corridor before stopping at an empty box. Taking her hand, he slipped them into the darkened space, the angle of the box shielding them from view of everyone there.

"I was parched," he admitted, moving toward her. "I needed a drink."

She stepped backward until the wall stopped her progress. "What are you doing, Your Grace?" she asked him, a slight quake to her words.

He took in her beauty. A true diamond unaware of her worth. The urge to taste sensual lips wrapped about his need and tugged hard. He wanted her to touch him, kiss him, soothe the ache he knew they both must feel.

You're in the theater! Stop being cockish!

"I'm parched too." Sophie slipped her hands around his neck, and he lost all sensible thought. He did not want to be an upstanding, virginal duke. Not when it came to the woman in his arms. He wanted her to want him as much as he craved her, and from the burning hunger in her eyes, he understood she did.

Henry clasped her jaw, tipped up her pretty face, and claimed her lips. He moaned at the satisfaction that purred through his soul at being with her like this again. All thoughts of being soft and beguiling vanished in an instant. He kissed her hard, deep. Their tongues tangled, danced, and drew him toward need like nothing else ever had.

She did not shy away from his kiss. She threw herself into their game of seduction. His body hardened, and he closed the space between them.

Her body against his, her breasts pressing against his chest, their ragged breaths mingled. Henry clasped her hip, teasing his cock with her body. She gasped through their embrace and did not run from what she did to him. Instead, she moaned, clung to him, and bedeviled him to a fever pitch.

His balls hardened. His cock straining for discharge against his breeches. He broke the kiss and reached for the hem of her dress, lifting it up so he could touch her. He needed to feel her body, tease and give her pleasure.

When his hand stroked over her sex, she murmured his name like a Siren's song and did not thwart his ministrations. She set her leg against his hip, presenting more opportunities to touch her.

He kissed her neck and licked his way along the softness of her skin as his hand played with her body like a musical instrument. She was wet, satiny, and pliant in his arms. He stroked her, found what she enjoyed most, and did not relent.

He wanted to hear her scream his name. He wanted to see her come apart in his arms, just as the books described.

"Henry." She clasped his jaw and kissed him, deep and long. He lost himself in their kiss, reveled in the taste of her.

He slipped a finger into her aching core, mimicking what intercourse would be like, and realized that he had missed out on so much being the upstanding duke he had always been.

To have a willing woman, a woman who wanted the touch of a man as much as he desired to touch her, was an elixir he could no longer deny himself.

"Do you like it?" he asked, flicking his thumb over her nubbin.

She nodded, her heavy-lidded eyes meeting his momentarily before she closed them again. "I do not know what you're doing, but it feels utterly wonderful."

Her words were nothing like he'd heard before, but blast it all to hell, they were enticing.

He could not miss this moment and watched, entranced as pleasure crossed her features. As her body rode his hand, her fingers clawing into his shoulders as she came in his arms.

The image was too much, and he felt his balls tighten before he spent in his breeches like a green virginal lad experiencing sex for the first time. He supposed that was not untrue.

After several moments her gaze met his, and he could see the wonder in her blue eyes. A surprise that he, too, felt.

They were different together. Something told him they ought to be together, not just this night but all nights to come.

"I feel as though I should say thank you." A pretty blush stole across her cheeks. They disentangled themselves and put a modest space between them.

He shook his head, unable to voice all that he was thinking right at this moment. "You do not owe me anything. But I will call on you tomorrow, but for now, I must leave."

"You're leaving?" she exclaimed, reaching for him so he could not go.

"I have to leave, Sophie. The events of this evening mean that I've not come away from our little interlude unscathed."

She frowned, stepping back and looking him up and down. "You appear perfectly fine to me. What do you mean?" she asked.

He clasped her cheek and stole another kiss. "I spent in my breeches if you must know. Watching you find pleasure was too much for me, and I need to return home and bathe."

"Really?" Her tone dripped with seduction and interest. "So if I were to touch you here, I would know you do not state a lie?"

She did as she teased, and he sucked in a startled gasp. Her palm stroked him, and he closed his eyes, his cock hardening again at her touch.

"You would have me leave with a hard cock pressing against my breeches as well as a wet patch?" he asked, unable to bite back his grin.

She smiled, not the least interested in stopping her administration against his person. "I wish you had told me you were as affected as I was by what we were doing. I would have touched you too. Made it more enjoyable."

"Oh, it was satisfying, Sophie." He pulled her into his arms and held her close. "I shall call on you tomorrow, and we shall have another satisfying time together. And if I should hold a trump hand, we shall have a moment or two alone, so I may watch you shatter in my arms yet again. This time I'd like to hear my name on your lips."

"There would be no other name I would utter." She placed little kisses against his jaw, along his neck before, unable to wait a moment longer, he took her lips in a searing kiss.

Tomorrow could not come soon enough. Not for either of them.