The Seduction Scheme (12 page)

‘I wouldn't actually go to bed with you!' she protested weakly.

‘On the other hand,' he mused, ‘if your surrender is couched in those terms you can rationalise it as being the only logical solution to a trying problem—a sacrifice for the greater good. Can it be I was doing you an injustice?' he wondered out loud. ‘This removes any nasty nagging problems about how you're going to explain to yourself that you
want
me in your bed. And you just can't do that, can you, my love?'

‘I'm not your love,' she choked, using up her last reserves of defiance.

‘And you'll probably hate me tomorrow,' he agreed with a placidity that was contradicted by the fierce predatory glitter in his eyes.

‘I hate you now.'

‘That's a start.'

‘Are you mad?'

‘The jury's still out.'

‘What are you doing?' she yelped as he swept her up into his arms. God help me, I'm enjoying playing the weak, defenceless female! she thought.

‘My office has a lock and a sofa.'

The idea of a locked door gave her a completely false sense of security. ‘And you have the key?' she asked, breathing hard; she'd abandoned all pretence of rejection.

‘No,' he said, pressing something cold into her hand. ‘You have.'

Rachel discovered the sofa was softly upholstered and the material was smooth against her naked back. The lacy bra she wore was almost but not quite transparent, and Benedict found the
almost
part incredibly arousing—at least that was what he said and his actions thereafter tended to confirm this statement.

He was kneeling beside the sofa and seeing his dark head against her as his mouth closed around the outline of her nipple where it showed dark through the flimsy fabric was incredibly erotic. She wore only the lacy pair of pants that matched the bra but he was still fully clothed, although his jacket did lie somewhere at the side of the room where he had impatiently thrown it.

Without warning he suddenly touched the skimpy triangle
of lace that barely concealed the soft, protective thatch between her legs. She jerked with shock at the intimate touch and wound one pale thigh protectively over the other.

‘Don't you like that?'

She did; she liked it very much. Eyes on his, hardly able to credit her own daring, she straightened her legs.

‘Yes,' she said throatily as she parted her thighs for his touch. The act of symbolic submission felt thrillingly erotic.

‘It gets better,' he promised huskily. It did; the sight of his dark head bent over her, the feel of his mouth moving against the thin fabric was almost unbearably exciting. His fingers quested sensitively towards the hot core of her desire.

‘Stop,' she pleaded. ‘I can't bear…'

‘So long as you remind me where I was…later,' he conceded. ‘I think you could do with room for expansion up here,' he mused as he lifted his head. His thumb moved rhythmically against her flattened nipple; the burning sensation made her stomach muscles contract violently.

Holding his eyes, she leant slightly forward and unhooked the bra fastening. ‘Is this better?'

His nostrils flared and the muscles of his throat worked as he stared at the gentle sway of her pale-pink-tipped breasts.

‘It's perfect; you're perfect,' he groaned thickly. ‘The first time I saw you you weren't wearing a bra under that blue dress…'

‘Lilac.'

‘And I could see how lovely and full and firm you were then. When you bent forward I could see just enough to…' He cleared his throat noisily. Benedict Arden blushing? That couldn't be right. ‘Let's just say enough to drive me crazy. Take them off.' He hooked a thumb in the elasticated waist of her lacy pants.

‘Do it for me?' she pleaded huskily.

The agonisingly slow progress of his fingers down her
thighs was almost unbearable. Free of the confinement, her hips stirred and rotated as, eyes tightly shut, she imagined him moving inside her…filling her… The choking sound he made forced her to open her eyes. The molten ferocity of his tense features convinced her he was sharing her fantasy. He looked as if he was on the brink of losing control. The idea was both exciting and appalling.

‘Now come here and let me finish what I started,' she purred huskily.

He looked on with half-closed eyes as her trembling fingers slid free the remaining buttons on his shirt. The glitter she could see within the slits of his eyes made her even more clumsy. She dragged the fabric back to reveal the broad expanse of his bronzed torso; the faint sheen of moisture made his satiny skin glow. His body was built on truly magnificent lines, though his impressive musculature was not unduly bulky; he was built for flexibility, speed and grace, not just strength.

Fingers splayed, she laid her hands on him and sighed deeply. Mesmerised by the texture of his warm skin, she let her fingers move sensuously, delighting in the sharp contractions of his muscles. Her fingers slid under the waistband of his trousers and she felt a tiny quiver of uncertainty. She looked up and the expression in his eyes sent her confidence soaring.

His trousers had slipped down to his lean hips and she could see the line of hair that narrowed to a dark line that disappeared beneath the white cotton he wore underneath.

‘Are you all right?'

Suddenly he sounded concerned and she lifted her head sharply, sending her thick hair fanning cloud-like about her flushed face. She tried to speak and realised that her breathing had become a series of staccato, uneven gasps. She pressed
her hands to his shoulders to steady herself and tried to draw adequate breath into her lungs.

‘I'm fine.' Then, in a rush of honesty, she admitted, ‘I don't know my own body, not when you touch me, or I touch you. I don't recognise any of the things I'm feeling, Ben.'

She'd not acted on impulse since she was a green teenager but something compelled her to do so now. This was something she just had to share with him.

‘It feels as if this is happening to someone else.'

The feverish, reckless glow in his eyes deepened. ‘Perhaps I should make this more personal—more
real
.'

‘There's plenty of room here.'

‘Slow might not be an option once I join you there,' he confessed, looking at the narrow space she patted with sultry invitation.

‘It's a risk I'm willing to take.'

‘Comfortable?' he asked as he cleverly insinuated his body under hers.

‘Not really the word I'd use,' she gasped, finding herself sitting astride him. His back was against the arm of the sofa and they were eye to eye.

Then she wasn't using any words at all because he was guiding her nipple into his mouth. The slow, sumptuous friction of his tongue and lips was agonisingly arousing.

Rachel gave a deep moan and her body jerked violently before sagging against him. One of his hands rested in the small of her back and the other sank into her hair. The sweeping motion as his fingers sank into the luxuriant growth pulled her head backwards, leaving her neck sinews taut. His mouth moved upwards to the irresistible temptation of the graceful curve, leaving a trail of burning kisses. The warm scent rising from his skin made her body ache almost as much as his expert touch.
Expert.

‘What's wrong?' he asked, picking up on her sudden men
tal withdrawal almost instantaneously. His breath was hot against her cheek as his tongue moved in lazy, teasing circles over the ultra-sensitive skin beside her ear.

Chin resting against his shoulder, her body leaning bonelessly against him, she slid her arms tightly around his middle, pulling tightly as if the contact would ease the sudden flurry of insecurities.

‘I'm not exactly experienced…I haven't done this for…' Before she hadn't really been a participant at all. Her contribution had been compliance. Ben wanted more than that. What if she disappointed him? ‘My body isn't perfect…I've had a child.'

‘Do you think I'm asking for perfection?' He sounded angry and when he forced her chin up he looked it, too. His dark eyes were filled with a resentment she didn't quite understand. ‘Do you think making love can be rated on a scale of one to ten? There hasn't been a measurement invented that can accurately describe the way it feels to touch your skin.'

‘Try,' she said, intoxicated and immensely relieved by the sincerity of his words. ‘Try and tell me?'

‘It's easier if I show you.' He firmly guided her hand downwards to the painfully congested area between his thighs. His response to her light touch made her gasp and smile with greedy, erotic satisfaction. Lips parted slightly, she lifted her passion-glazed gaze to his face.

‘This thing limits our options.' He banged his head against the upholstered arm before sliding dramatically downwards and pulling her with him. ‘It's either you up there and me down here, or me up here—' her soft shriek was smothered by the erotic imprint of his marauding mouth ‘—and you down there. The choice is yours.'

‘I'm easy.'

Deep laughter vibrated in his chest. ‘Would that were true. What are you…?' He inclined his head to see her drag his
already loosened trousers and his shorts over his hips. She felt the hot, hard tip of his arousal nudge against her belly and fought hard to retain control. The gap between consciousness and dark oblivion was dangerously close.

‘I'm showing initiative,' she said, lifting her head just close enough for the tip of her tongue to lap back and forward over the dark stud of one male nipple. She reached up and pulled his shirt, which flapped around them, a couple of inches down over the flexed muscles of his shoulders. The fabric didn't give and the constriction caused him to collapse down on his elbows.

‘I'll squash you,' he warned hoarsely.

‘I like being squashed by you,' she reassured him. She hooked her legs up and around his waist, locking her ankles firmly over his back.

‘Rachel!' he rumbled in warning, the contorted expression on his face reflecting the strain he was under. He slid between her thighs because there was nowhere else for him to go. ‘I can't move.'

‘You can. You can move exactly where I want you to go.'

‘I've never made love with my shoes on. My clothes.'

‘Don't worry, we can work around them.' Only one thing could satisfy her now.

‘Work around!' A hoarse laugh emerged from his dry throat. ‘You're a very bad girl, Rachel,' he said thickly. ‘You mean I'm on top, but you're in charge?'

‘Now you come to mention it…' The air was expelled from her lungs in one long sigh as he slid firmly into her body. All thoughts of domination and control vanished at the precise moment her body expanded to accommodate his pulsing masculinity.

‘You're—' She gasped, sliding her arms beneath his shirt to grip the slick, warm flesh of his back.

‘I'm what?' he asked thickly, his voice almost unrecog
nisable. Rachel was beyond words; she only wanted to absorb him, feel him move within her.

He couldn't resist her pleas and any restraint he had vanished under the onslaught of her inarticulate entreaties and encouragements. He could no longer control the aggression of his thrusts as he gave her what she asked for—all of him.

‘Oh, God, I didn't use a condom!'

As post-coital sweet nothings went this really ruined the mood.

‘Don't worry, it's not a fertile time of my cycle.' If the sofa had come supplied with sheets she'd have used them to cover her vulnerability. And a whole lot more than her vulnerability was showing just now! She edged as far away from his sweat-covered body as possible.

‘That's not the point.'

‘It isn't?' She wanted so badly to touch him. Would it be so bad? she wondered wistfully.

‘I wouldn't want you to think I'm normally reckless.'

‘Relax, I don't.'

‘Next time—'

‘There won't be a next time.'

She felt the sofa groan as he raised himself on one elbow. Under the circumstances it was impossible to avoid his eyes. ‘Oh?'

His eyes ran slowly over her slim body, still flushed from their strenuous lovemaking.

‘I'm not blaming you.'

‘That's good of you.' The droll smile that lifted one corner of his mouth wasn't reflected in his eyes.

‘But it can't happen again.'

‘If you're willing to give me ten minutes and some encouragement I think you'll find it can.'

The heat tore through her body as her imagination re
sponded to the vivid images conjured up by his words. ‘I need to go home.'

‘Let me guess, I'm not the sort of man you want to take home to Charlie.' He didn't look or sound amused.

‘I don't want to raise her expectations, Ben. She's fond of you…'

‘And her mother?'

‘You're a very attractive man.'

‘I can hear a “but” in your voice.'

‘Don't be like this,' she begged unevenly. ‘It's not as if you're planning to share your life with me, is it? We've nothing whatever in common and I've not the mental attitude that makes a happy harem member.' She dredged the light laughter up from somewhere when he didn't respond with a firm proclamation that she was the one and only girl for him—she hadn't really expected him to.

‘It's better for everyone concerned if we return things to a professional basis. I'd like to get dressed now.' It was probably too late even now to save herself from all the classic symptoms of addiction, but she had to make a token effort to escape.

‘At this point am I supposed to avert my eyes while you make yourself decent? Sorry, Rachel, I like looking at you nude. Surely you don't begrudge a man something to remember when we're back to a professional basis?'

‘Do you always make situations like this so awkward?'