Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

His heart racing, his eyes fixed on hers, Benedict reached into his pocket and held out the ring to Emmaline.

“This was my mother’s ring,” he murmured, turning it slowly so that it caught the light.

He had sent away for it days ago now, and since it arrived it had been burning a hole in his pocket as he waited for this moment.

The gold band supported a large green emerald, ensconced in a circle of pearls. It was slightly old-fashioned now, but he hoped Emmaline would understand.

This was about more than expensive jewellery, this was about his heart. And he was placing it at her feet.

“I want it to be yours now. I want us together, always.”

Emmaline stared at the ring, her eyes wide, and then they flicked up to meet his. But still, she said nothing.

“ Amore mio? Do you accept?”

Her fingers curled around his, her colour high as she caught her lip between her teeth and looked down uncertainly. “Do you mean it?” Emmaline asked softly, sending a pang to his heart as he realised she was unsure of his intentions, his feelings.

Benedict never wanted her to feel that again.

“Yes, I am sure. I am sure about everything. I want you, Emmaline.”

She closed her eyes at the words. “Kiss me, please?”

Benedict did not need to be asked twice, he reached out and cupped her precious face in his hands and kissed her as he had longed to do all this time. Soft, tender brushes of his lips as she trembled and pressed close, her mouth just as eager as his.

He pulled back, suddenly desperate to know if she felt the same.

“Do you want me, too?”

Emmaline nodded, her eyes bright with emotion. Looking everywhere but at him.

“I thought you were toying with me, that I meant nothing to you. You just… treated me as if nothing had happened, as if you felt nothing.”

She sucked in a shuddery breath. “Why?”

Emmaline was hurt, he had hurt her with his distance. He was a goddamn fool.

“Sweetheart, I am sorry. I… didn’t want to take advantage of the situation, or make you feel compelled somehow. I am an idiot, please forgive me?”

Emmaline nodded again, leaning towards him and Benedict wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, savouring the warm, earthy scent of her, the way she fit so perfectly against him.

She was meant for him.

He raised her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger, pressing his lips there to seal his promise.

And then they were kissing each other, mouths hungry, no gentleness this time, just passion and relief and want as they devoured each other.

Benedict grabbed Emmaline by the waist and pulled her onto his lap, helping to lift her skirts in a tangle of petticoats so that she could straddle his thighs and kiss him properly.

He needed her close. He wanted to crawl inside her skin and live there next to her heart.

The feel of her heat pressed against the hard ridge of his need was torture, but he could not stop, couldn’t tear himself away from her if his life depended on it.

Emmaline moaned against his lips and Benedict wanted her to feel how much he wanted her, needed her to know that she was all he had thought about for weeks, since the first moment he laid eyes on her.

Benedict plucked the offending barrier of the fichu away and let it drift to the floor while kissing the luscious mounds of her breasts, whispering his devotion against her skin. The tight bodice of the dress practically begged him to remove it so he could worship her in all her glory.

“You are perfect, I adore you.”

Emmaline’s small hands smoothed over his shoulders and under the sides of his jacket, exploring his body shyly.

“Take this off,” she whispered, tugging at him.

Benedict hurried to comply, throwing his cravat to the floor as well, needing as few barriers between them as possible. Thank goodness the staff knew better than to disturb him in his study.

Her fingers worked on the buttons of his waistcoat, as her lips tentatively kissed the side of his neck, his blood surging hot in his veins at the feel of her mouth on him.

Benedict savoured the smooth, soft feel of Emmaline’s skin, cupping the full curve of her bottom under her skirts, running his hands covetously over her thighs where they spread across his hips.

She was enough to bring him to his knees.

Emmaline was rocking herself on Benedict’s lap, her unabashed desire making him want things that should wait until their wedding night.

But perhaps he could give her pleasure, at least.

“Can I touch you?” Benedict managed to ask, voice rough as his hands threaded into her hair and tugged her head back, needing to see her eyes when she answered him

“Oh, please,” she moaned, reaching for his mouth with hers, brown hair tumbling free from its pins to fall around them as they lost themselves in each other for another endless moment.

His fingers reached between them, finding her soft heat and slipping through the folds with a groan. She bucked under his touch, gasping with need, her hands moving to the flap of his pantaloons and fumbling with the buttons.

“I want to touch you too, can I?” she asked distractedly, her eyelids fluttering as Benedict worked her bundle of nerves with teasing circles.

The thought of her taking him in hand almost undid him, but Benedict managed to reach down and free himself, hissing with satisfaction as he watched her reach out and grip the proud length of his cock, her fingers wrapping around the girth and testing the feel of him in her palm.

“Am I doing it right?” Emmaline asked shyly, flashing her eyes at him as a drop of seed gathered at the tip, smoothing it down over the crown with her thumb.

“Oh, yes, absolutely,” Benedict managed to utter, as she squeezed and stroked his length, threatening to unman him with her touch.

The angle of their bodies made it hard for him to pleasure her as she did him, so he took a chance and pushed her hand away, lifting her and fitting the seam of her sex against the line of his cock, growling with pleasure at the feel of her moist heat riding his flesh.

Emmaline gasped and ground down against him, her cheeks pink with excitement as they explored the feeling of their bodies fitted together.

He rocked her hips in his hands, helping her find a rhythm.

“I… It feels…” she moaned, her eyes closed, and it was perhaps the most erotic sound Benedict had ever heard in his life.