Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

The drawings were good, she was good. Talented beyond what was fair, since she was born a woman and could never reach her full potential, as harsh as the world was.

He gave in to temptation with hardly a flicker of his conscience and kissed the tips of those clever fingers, the faint earthy smell of paint lingering on her skin. Then kissed slowly up the line of her soft, elegant arm, pulling her closer with each brush of his lips until he reached the cuff of the ridiculously prim nightgown, which did absolutely nothing to conceal the full extent of her curves.

Emmaline’s eyes were clever too, Benedict decided, cupping her cheeks with his hands now and pressing light kisses to her face, forcing her to finally close those wide, doe brown eyes, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks like the kiss of a butterfly.

He should not be doing this, but something was pulling him towards this woman that was too powerful to resist, especially with her literally in his lap.

Emmaline sat as still as a deer about to flee, her hands lightly holding his wrists as if to push him away, but all it did was make him want to feel her hands on other areas. Extremely ungentlemanly places.

Benedict was suddenly stone-cold sober, but intoxicated by the feel and smell of the beautiful woman in his arms.

He allowed his lips to brush the corner of her mouth, teasing them both and drawing a low whimper from her throat.

“You have spent far too many hours examining me at your leisure,” Benedict drawled, dragging his mouth to the soft skin behind her ear and nibbling there. Savouring the taste of her skin. “I think it only fair that I get to explore your beauty for a change.”

Emmy sucked in a breath at his words, but he silenced her with a real kiss, pressing his lips to hers lightly, then harder, each pass a little deeper, tasting a little more, until she was kissing him back shyly, opening her lips so he could taste her fully, making his blood pound with passion, her fingers digging into his arms now as he dragged her flush against him with a groan of desire.

Benedict let his hands wander as they explored the kiss, appreciating every soft, tempting curve, the feel of her breasts pressed against him, each little whimper in her throat.

He pulled back and looked down, clenching his teeth at the sight of the lush cleavage exposed by the gaping neck of her gown, tugging it down further so he could see even more smooth skin.

His fantasies had not done nearly enough justice to the sensuous reality of her form.

Emmaline was breathless, her eyes huge and luminous, and Benedict wanted to lay at her feet and worship her, like the goddess she appeared.

Impulsively, he shifted, rolling them so that she lay below him on the chaise, her long silky brown hair splayed across the backrest and spilling down to the floor.

A sinful image came to mind, of her hair spread over the pillows of his bed, her legs wrapped tight around him as he fucked her senseless.

Benedict wanted her so badly, but his honour was beating at the door of his conscience, ordering him to stop.

He decided to appease both urges as best he could.

“What-” Gasped Emmaline, squirming beneath him.

“Shh, amore mio … If you want me to stop, I will. Merely say the word, or squeeze my arm like this-” whispered Benedict against the base of her throat, taking her hand and returning it to his wrist, wrapping his fingers around hers and applying pressure with her fingers.

He wanted no doubt that she was willing. He wanted nothing that she was not freely giving him.

Benedict never wanted to think that Emmaline had allowed him liberties purely because of his station. It would break him.

But her fingers relaxed when he removed his hand, holding his arm loosely as he carefully dragged his mouth lower, tasting the line of her collar bones, the sweetly scented valley between her full breasts as she started to arch slightly under his attention, her hips restless.

He glanced up as he tongued a dusky nipple through the thin fabric, watching with fascination as her eyes fluttered closed, her mouth parting on a sensuous moan.

She looked like a woman who wanted more.

He realised he wanted her senseless with pleasure, his name on her lips while he showed her just how well he could love her.

Benedict slid to his knees on the floor, kissing his way down her belly as he fitted one plump leg over his shoulder, making space for himself between her thighs.

Emmaline shuddered, her grip on his hand tightening reflexively. He halted, sucking in a deep breath, then when her grip relaxed again, Benedict smoothed a hand over her soft calf, savouring the feel of her skin under his palm.

“What… are…you…doing?” breathed Emmaline, her back arching helplessly as he kissed his way up a delectably round inner thigh, pushing them slowly apart as he advanced.