A Touch of Notoriety(42)

Just when Raphael had reached the point where his security instincts told him he had to go in search of her, he sensed her presence beside him—and smelt that wonderful fresh feminine smell that was entirely Beth: lemons, flowers, and warm enticing woman! His breath caught in his throat, a quiver running the length of his spine, as she paused to run her fingers lightly over his shoulder and down his arm before moving forward to resume her seat across from him at the table.

‘Sorry about that—it took longer than I thought.’ Her face was slightly flushed, her eyes a bright glittering brown, as she carefully placed a key attached to a numbered wooden square down on the table between them.

Raphael’s gaze was riveted on that key, and its implications. ‘What have you done?’ he breathed softly.

‘Nothing yet,’ she came back pertly. ‘But once we’ve finished our meal I’m hoping that the two of us will go upstairs and finish what we started outside. Unless you would rather forgo the rest of our meal and go upstairs to our bedroom now?’

Raphael’s lids rose as he looked across at her, the slightly uncertain expression in her eyes, and the anxious way in which she chewed on her bottom lip, both a complete contradiction of her breezily confident tone.

‘That is what you were doing just now—arranging a room for the two of us to stay here overnight?’

‘Yes...’ That anxiety had darkened her eyes now. ‘Unless you would really rather not?’

Unless Raphael would rather not...!

He had been displeased at the thought of Beth having become ill from the strain she had been under these past few hours, from seeing that damning gravestone, but even so he was sure that was a problem he could have coped with. But the mere thought of Beth having somehow left here to return to London, in order to go to that ‘someone else she had in mind to make love with her tonight’, had made Raphael feel as angry as it did physically ill. If any man was going to make love to Beth tonight, then it was going to be him!

‘You know, Raphael, it isn’t in the least flattering that you’re taking so long to make up your mind.’ There was a brittle tension beneath her cajoling tone.

Raphael gave a tight smile. ‘I am merely trying to decide whether you would benefit from finishing your meal, or whether it would be better for us to go straight upstairs.’

‘Oh.’

He almost widened his smile at her look of confusion. Almost. He was too tense with need for this woman to find any real humour in this situation. ‘Perhaps you are now having second thoughts?’

Her chin rose. ‘Not in the least,’ she assured him firmly.

He nodded. ‘In that case, I think you might benefit from the extra energy the food will give you.’

Her throat moved convulsively as she swallowed, her cheeks having flushed a deep pink. ‘That sounds...interesting.’

Raphael eyed her ruefully. ‘But not what you were expecting my answer to be?’

Beth had no idea what she had expected Raphael’s reaction to be when she returned to the table and told him she had arranged for the two of them to stay here together tonight. She only knew that she wanted him, wanted those hours of being aware of nothing else, of thinking of nothing else but Raphael, of saying to hell with the rest of the world as they explored and pleasured each other. She wanted that more than she wanted her next breath!

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘Could we go upstairs now? Right now?’ she added urgently, her knuckles showing white as she gripped the edge of the table.

He gave an abrupt nod. ‘If that is what you wish.’

She gave a tremulous smile. ‘A little enthusiasm on your part would be welcome about now!’

Raphael looked at her blankly for several long seconds before he breathed out raggedly, a nerve pulsing in his clenched jaw as he leant forward over the table, his eyes a deep and piercing cerulean blue as he easily held Beth’s gaze captive. ‘Would my telling you that I have remained hard and aching for you since we kissed outside earlier count as “enthusiasm”?’

Her breath hitched in her throat. ‘Oh, yes...’

‘Also that I have been able to think of little else but kissing and suckling your beautiful and responsive breasts since I last touched you there?’

Her eyes widened as she thought of the last time—the only time—Raphael had touched her breasts so intimately. That evening in the gym. Two days ago...

‘That I have been longing to touch you again, to stroke between your thighs, to pleasure you, slowly and then harder, until your muscles tighten and ripple in orgasm about the thrust of my fingers?’