Page 33 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
His gaze frantically skittered about the Juno-Jupiter suite. He took in the garments littered upon the hardwood floor. His black jacket, trousers, and cravat lay all twisted and tangled up with her delicate, filmy pieces. That diaphanous gown he’d hastily removed from her body. The lace garters she’d worn which, at some point last night, he’d removed with his teeth.
Sweat broke out on his body.
A woman with her bedroom eyes, who’d moved the way she had and been so passionate in his arms, should absolutely never,ever, ever wear a look of adoration for a man she’d spent the night making love with in every possible way a man and woman could.
A prickling sensation raced along his neck.
Delicate fingers settled upon his bare shoulder.
His every muscle locked in place, but somehow Wakefield still managed to get himself to his feet, and fast. He spun so quick on his bare feet, he got tangled up in his trousers and shirt and nearly lost his balance.
His mystery bedpartner, on the other hand, was all stoic calm, completely and utterly in complete control of her faculties—unlike Wakefield who was spiraling andfast.
Without any choice left to him, he looked squarely at Cressida. This time, he peered more closely and frantically searched his mind for how he knew her.
There was something still vaguely familiar about her. Obviously, between the way she spoke, carried herself, and her very part in last night’s entertainments, the lady belonged to the nobility. For the life of Wakefield, he could not place her.
Where he’d avoided her gaze before, now Wakefield did a deep study of his recent lover. In one hand, she held tight to the white sheet wrapped about her naked body. With her other hand, she held something over to him.
His gaze skittered to the white lawn article. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
Wakefield snatched it quickly from her hands and pulled it overhead. He made it a point not to stay the night after he’d bedded a woman. He never slept beside lovers because there was nothing personal or intimate about any of the connections he shared. They were just mindless meetings of the flesh, but sleeping together added a layer of intimacy that wasn’t required of a carnal union.
In sleeping with a lover, there came the awkwardness of what one said to a lover in the morning, after they’d achieved mutual sexual gratification. It was better to leave.
But this time, he hadn’t.
Benedict went about collecting the rest of his garments.
Cressida No-Name had been the first—and would absolutely be the last—woman he ever spent a night with.
The lady’s soft voice came, hesitant, just as he stuffed one leg inside the opening of his trousers. “Have I done something to offend you?”
Bloody hell? That was not a question asked by a worldly woman who’d made Wakefield come more times than an over-sexed Caligula had in his entire libidinous lifetime, but by an uncertain innocent.
“You’ve done no such thing,” he muttered as he jammed the other leg into his trousers. Wakefield made the mistake of looking at the lady.
It proved a fatal mistake. The way she regarded him?
He blanched. This wasn’t good. It was all trouble.Shewas trouble.
“Benedict?”
Her voice emerged again, this time with a slight tremble and a hurt edge that forced him to look fully at her. She’d managed to turn his name into a query, putting some delicate, unspoken question before him.
What the lady expected of Wakefield, he couldn’t say, only that it was something he was unwilling to confront.
Bloody hell!This was precisely why he didn’t stay around. This here. If a fellow lingered, he left behind lingering emotions. He couldn’t afford to stay here, not when the very air seemed to thicken with something he dared not name. Resolved to bring their relationship to a close, Wakefield set his jaw.
“I wanted to thank you for an enjoyable night,” he said, and as soon as the words left his mouth, he grimaced.
I wanted to thank you for an enjoyable night?That’s what he’d come up with? Although in fairness, theirs had been a transaction, a business one that he knew beyond a doubt had been pleasureful for both of them.
Her eyes dimmed, like a radiant star extinguished too quick.
Wakefield couldn’t meet her agonizingly expressive gaze, not when he’d been the one responsible for snuffing out the light from those velvety rich brown irises. He cleared his throat. “More importantly, Cressida, I hopeyouenjoyed our time together?”
The lady’s consternation grew. Why, Wakefield could have sprouted a second and third head for the way in which she looked at him.
