In the Arms of a Marquess(55)

Octavia’s eyes went wider than he had ever seen them. Ben’s muscles contracted, every single one of them. With effort he managed to loosen his grip on the shirt enough to drop it. She stared at his body, her gaze traveling from his shoulders to his waist then back. He hadn’t ever known such torment.

“Octavia.” His voice came forth far from steady.

“I never imagined,” she whispered in a tone of utter awe, and her hand darted out then halted. Tentatively, as though reaching into fire, she placed her palm upon his chest. Ben sucked in air, her touch tightening him. She must be able to feel the hard thud of his heart. She leaned into his shoulder and inhaled, her uneven breaths soft upon his skin. He willed his arms to remain at his sides.

“You know,” she said in that same tone, heady and thin, “Lal used to visit your house every day. The kitchen, I think. When he came home he always smelled of delicious things, spices and what have you.”

“Please tell me you have not just now compared me to a monkey.”

She laughed. “You always smelled so good, from the moment we met.” She laid her lips beside her hand. “Like a man,” she sighed against his skin.

“I should hope so.” He spoke in a vain attempt to still the trembling within him at the velvet caress of her open mouth. Her hand curved around his arm and she sighed, smoothing across his ribs to his back. Her feet followed, the tips of her breasts brushing his arm as she circled him. Only the barest intake of breath, then its release against his shoulder blade, revealed her reaction to the scars upon his back. Fully behind him, her palms slid to his waist, then she came around to face him again. Lifting her gaze to meet his, she slipped her hand over his buttock. Her eyes shone.

He forced words through his lips. “Enjoy your tour?”

“Very much.”

“Care to continue your previous occupation?”

“Yes, indeed.”

The release of each trouser button seemed to Ben an eternity of redoubled torture. He gripped his fists at his sides.

“You must relax.” Her voice hinted at her own high tension. “The veins in your arms are distressed.” Her hand paused upon his trousers, then wrapped about his wrist. She bent and ran her damp tongue along the inside of his forearm. Ben choked on a surge of desire, her mouth so close now.

He grasped her shoulders, pulled her up against his chest and kissed her hard.

“Remove my blasted trousers now, or I will.”

Her head bobbed but she said, “Perhaps you should. I— My hands are somewhat unsteady.”

He released a taut breath. “Octavia, I beg your pardon—”

“Oh, don’t.” She drew him down again and pressed her lips to his. “Only be quick about it.” Slender fingers grazed the waistband of his trousers, shaking slightly as they paused above the bulge of his erection. “I am very curious.”

Curious, quivering, but eager and as impatient as he. She stared fixedly as he unfastened the remaining buttons, her color high. Ben hadn’t any idea what to make of her. But he had never known a woman like Octavia Pierce in any other way. Why should she be like other women in this?

With his clothing gone finally, he had only one design: to be between her legs and deep inside her. But she seemed to have another idea. Her slender hand stole to his waist then behind once more, her gaze traveling over him thoroughly.

“Good heavens, Ben, you are a beautiful man,” she said breathily, but he could not respond. She stood so close he could feel the heat of her body upon his arousal. Her hand hovered. “May I?”

He could only nod jerkily.

She touched him, the lightest caress, and he was undone.

He grasped her arms. “Octavia.”

“Did she do this?” Her voice trembled.

Dear God.

“Who?” He could barely speak for the pain of pleasure.

“Her. Priscilla Nath—”

“I was with her all of five minutes.”

Her gaze flickered up to his, uncertain. “You work fast.”

“I did not make love to her. But unless you would prefer to discuss other matters first, I am going to make love to you. Right now.”

She nodded quickly, her eyes wide. “Yes. Yes. Now would be good.”

He swept her up and deposited her on his bed. Against the white linens, her skin was pale, her hair dark. Ben gazed upon her lovely arms, her long, shapely legs, the thatch of soft russet hair at their crux, her full breasts perfectly peaked, her eyes heated pools of anticipation. He had never seen anything so beautiful, never wanted anything so much.

He parted her knees and moved between them, bringing their bodies together. She gasped then moaned as he slid against her. Lightly he caressed her with his shaft, stirring her heat and driving himself mad. To touch her like this, to have her— It seemed as though he had waited all his life for this moment. Feeling her beneath him now, her silken thighs flanking his hips, her breathing heavy, might as well have been a thousand years of missed opportunity. Wasted time.

Time he must win back now.

He trailed his tongue along the slope of her neck and she gripped his shoulders, holding him, keeping him near, and Ben ached in the deepest part of him.

He whispered her name, touched her, and her body danced for him, supple woman asking for caresses he had longed to give her for years, reaching for more. Kissing her, he drowned in her flavor, her high, needy sighs, the captivating softness of her breasts and belly, and he grew hard beyond endurance. He could not touch her enough. Needing to feel her arousal in his mouth, he took her taut nipple with his tongue and she arched against him, thrusting her breasts upward, whimpering her hunger.