Page 96 of Touched By a Traitor
His hand reached out, caressing her chin, then tilting it upward with the gentlest pressure. His dark eyes pierced hers.
“I am filled with immeasurable pride in you, Charlotte. Your strength, your passion, your unwavering commitment… these are the qualities that have captured my heart. It pains me that I realized this only after inflicting grievous harm, and for that, I am profoundly sorry.”
Andrew’s arm encircled her waist, drawing her closer. “I wish you to know that I have no desire to alter your essence. My sole aim is to support you, to stand beside you as you reshape the world. I hope you believe me.”
Feeling a familiar sting in her nose, her vision blurred with welling tears.
“I do,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Your steadfast support these past eight months has been my anchor during the most trying of times. I now place my complete trust in you.”
“My sweet, my heart,” he breathed, his voice reverent. “You are far too good to be my wife.”
When words failed her, Andrew dipped his head, capturing her lips in a tender, reverent kiss. Charlotte felt herself melting as he took his time, his mouth moving against hers with a gentleness that made her heart race. The familiar taste of him, the warmth of his breath mingling with her own, sent waves of longing through her that she’d suppressed for far too long. Her hands found purchase on his arms, her fingers reveling in the unyielding strength beneath his skin as she returned his kiss with equal fervor, pouring every ounce of her desire into the embrace.
Andrew’s arm snaked around her bottom, lifting her against him. Charlotte wrapped her legs around his hips, the evidence of his longing pressing against her. She gasped at the sheer power of his strength, his yearning. Her body trembled with anticipation.
“Christ,” he rasped, his voice rough with barely restrained need. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I fear I may become too rough from my sheer need of you. I need you, more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.”
Charlotte gazed up at him, grateful for the friendship she had cultivated with the three women and for their tutelage in the art of pleasure.
“Andrew, could you wait for me in my bedchamber?”
He swallowed and gawked as if he’d been told seven virgins awaited him. Without a word, Andrew spun on his heels and climbed the steps three at a time.
“In my bed!” she called after him with a chuckle.
“Dear God, I fear I shall expire from anticipation before you even arrive!” he replied, his voice echoing through the corridor.
Laughing, Charlotte quickly removed her drawers and washed, her heart pounding in her ears.
She hastily went upstairs and with trembling hands, opened the bedroom door. Andrew sat up in bed, his back against the headboard, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He had removed his coat and cravat, his feet bare and shirt collars open, revealing a glimpse of his sculpted chest. The room glowed with the warm, orange light of the candles, illuminating his jawline and the enticing dip between his collarbones.
She stood across from him at the end of the room, her gaze dropping to the floor as her body buzzed with nerves. Without a word, she began to unbutton her bodice, her fingers trembling, slowing the process. She stole a quick glance at Andrew, his eyes transfixed on her as she opened the bodice fully.
Remembering what the courtesans had told her about the most powerful aphrodisiac being a tease, she stretched the thin linen shift taut over her breasts as she removed the bodice with deliberate slowness. To her satisfaction, Andrew’s jaw dropped, his eyes darkening with hunger, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his cock strained against his trousers, already hard with want.
The air between them crackled with electricity, anticipation coiling tighter with each passing heartbeat. Charlotte’s pulse quickened, her skin flushed and tingling under the scorching intensity of Andrew’s gaze.
Without breaking eye contact, she turned slowly, presenting her back to him. Her fingers worked at the ties of her skirts with maddening leisure before she bent forward to slip them off, the movement deliberate and provocative. His sharp intake of breath sent a thrill through her. Before straightening, shegathered the shift tight against her curves, the fabric molding to every line of her body.
“Christ… your curves could tempt the angels to sin,” he groaned, his voice thick with need.
She turned to face him again, one hand trailing up to cup her breast through the gossamer fabric, her thumb circling the peaked nipple. “Come to me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “I need to feel you.”
“No.” The single word fell between them like a gauntlet. “You cannot touch me until I give permission.”
“Charlotte, please…” His plea was raw, desperate. “Do not torment me so.”
“I am in control now, Andrew.” Her voice was silk and steel. “It will serve you well to surrender to it.”
“Wicked creature…”
She smiled at his frustration, then slowly raised one leg, placing her foot on the bed’s edge. His eyes followed the movement hungrily as she untied her garter with painstaking care, then rolled the stocking down inch by agonizing inch, letting her knee fall open to afford him a tantalizing glimpse.
“God…” His breathing had turned ragged, his knuckles white where they gripped the bedsheets.
Turning away once more, she gathered the shift in front, baring herself completely to his view. The sound he made—half groan, half prayer—sent liquid heat pooling low in her belly.
“I cannot… I shall spend myself if you continue this sweet torture,” he rasped.
