Page 61 of When a Lady Desires a Wicked Lord
Squirming a bit on his lap, she looped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his throat. Her lips moved to claim his.
“Hush, darling,” she murmured. “I do not expect promises. I do not expect tomorrow. All I want is tonight.”
Deep within his chest, his heart throbbed with longing. God in heaven, if she’d wanted to disarm him, she could not have devised a better way. The way she’d uttered the words, without a trace of guile, made her all the more tempting. He pulled in a breath, immersing himself in her scent.
He wanted her so badly. Damnable shame he did not deserve her.
“I want to feel your skin against mine,” she whispered against his lips. “All of you, Benedict. Without reservation. Without restraint.”
Her words were like an incantation, freeing him from years of exile. “Darling, are you sure?”
“I have never been more certain of anything in my life.” A delectable little smile played on her lips. “Tonight, all I want is you.”
Chapter Nineteen
Without a word of warning, Benedict swept Alex off her feet. Her legs dangling over his arms, she gasped. At the sound, he grinned down at her, smug as a lion bellowing to proclaim himself king of the jungle. What on earth had come over him?
It wasn’t like Benedict to resort to primitive displays of masculinity. She certainly hadn’t expected him to carry her up the stairs to the bedroom. The practical voice in her brain wondered at the necessity of the act. After all, she had two legs that worked quite well. She’d never entertained a fantasy of playing the helpless female swept away by the bold seducer. Yet, as the sensation of being held in the arms of a strong, vital man washed over her, she drank in his raw desire. Searching his features, she sought a powerful truth mere words could not express.
Wicked promise gleamed in his eyes. Within the depths of his gaze, an emotion far more enduring than desire darkened his hazel eyes to a rich forest hue. He wanted her. Body and soul.
Her reservations fell to the wayside.
Deep inside, something within her feminine psyche responded to the maleness he’d brought to the forefront. With a sigh, she relaxed and savored the feeling of being treasured. Of being seduced by this man she adored. She needed him as desperately as a hummingbird craved nectar.
I’ve loved him—for such a long time.
She’d lain with him when they were so very young, in those days when she’d believed he was meant for her. Of course, that had been a long time ago. Before he’d set out for Egypt. Before he’d embarked on his quest for riches. They’d been so desperate for each other. Back in those days and nights of delicious discovery, he’d seemed not quite a boy, not quite a man.
Now, there was nonot quiteabout it. He was a man. Hardened and, at times, jaded. And yet tender. So very gentle. Wanting her pleasure, even if it meant taking none for himself.
Holding her to his heart, he regarded her as though she were quite precious, a woman to be cherished.
He loved her. In her heart, she knew that.
As much as he could love anyone, at least.
Somehow, in ways she never entirely understood, Benedict had been scarred. Mentally. And physically. He bore marks on his body, long-healed wounds in places his clothing concealed. When she’d lain with him, she’d spotted the lacerations on his back that had gone deep and mended crudely, evidently without a physician’s intervention.
Once, he’d shown up at her home in the middle of the night. One eye had been blackened, and his mouth had been cut and bleeding. He’d attributed the wounds to a brawl with another youth.
But even then, she’d known better.
Those scars had been inflicted by someone close to him. A family member. Or someone quite close to the family.
He hadn’t grieved when his father died. He’d returned to London for the funeral, then promptly settled his mother in a country house far from his Mayfair residence. Afterward, he’d returned to Egypt. Roderick remained the only enduring connection to the life Benedict had led before his sire had been interred in the family plot.
Had his father been the one who’d driven him away?
She banished the questions from her mind. She would savor this night. She’d drink in the pleasure to be found in his arms. They’d create memories that would comfort her when he took his leave and left her behind.
She relaxed as his body cradled her. His chest was hard and powerful and warm, his arms sleekly muscled and strong. She was safe with him. A soft sigh escaped her as her eyes fluttered shut.
“Oh, Alexandra, I want to love you tonight,” he whispered against her lips. “All night.”
He pushed the door to her chamber open and carried her over the threshold.
“You’re sure of this?” he asked, placing her upon the bed. Moonlight streamed through a window, gleaming gold against his hair as he sat down beside her, on the edge of the bed. Leaning over her, he smoothed a tendril of hair from her cheek. Desire gleamed in his eyes, tempered by concern. Was he afraid he would hurt her?
