Page 35 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
Hungry wantons and eager widows were not given to blushes, and certainly not after having had intimate relations in nearly every way. Why, the number of acts they’d performedtogether andonone another could, in their breadth, rival the Kama Sutra.
Cressida’s brows pinched together.
How strange. He knew the citrusy lemon scent that clung to her like the sweetest fragrance. He knew she loved to have her nipples played with and enjoyed toying with the matting of hair upon his chest when they’d rested in one another’s arms.
“Cressida,” he mused. It was all he knew about her identity.
She stared strangely at him. “Yes, Benedict?”
For every last intimate act they’d partaken in, he still didn’t have a hold of her actual identity, but she did his. That in of itself left him unnerved in a whole other way.
“Were you going to say something?” she ventured.
Wakefield blinked wildly. What is it he’d been saying? Oh, that’s right.
“I spent within you,” he said bluntly. He felt more ashamed than a lad with his first Cyprian.
Cressida dampened her lips, but didn’t add anything. Really, what was there for her to add?
“I want you to know,” he continued. “This is not something I’m in the habit of doing. That is, I do take lovers, but I do not. I am not…” He continued to stammer. “I’ve never failed to use a French letter, and I always withdraw.”
His mystery woman touched her fingertips to his lips, silencing him and setting off another round of desire within him.
Wakefield caught her wrist and brought it against his mouth; he placed a hard kiss upon the spot her pulse pounded.
Her breath caught on a soft intake.
She wanted him just as much, and there was something very gratifying in that.
“It’s all r-right,” she said, breathless. “I understand.”
Did she? he thought to himself. Could she actually make that statement and also at the same time realize the implications of what they’d—of whathe’d—potentially done?
Wakefield stormed to his feet and knocked her fingers free of his touch. She tilted her neck back and looked at him as he paced.
“I want you to be assured that in the event you do find yourself inthe way, I will be sure to see you and the babe are taken care of.” How were these words even leaving his mouth? How? When he’d spent his entire life despising the previous earl, his bastard of a father, for having sired babes with his mistress? How when he’d resolved to never make those same mistakes?
God, the old bastard was certainly laughing up at him from Hell. He knew his lover finally understood the ramifications of what they’d done. All the color fled from her cheeks. They were in a like plane of emotion and complete and utter horror.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
It could have been him uttering that same profanity or prayer. Perhaps it was both. Either way, both were justified. She briefly lost the grip she had on her sheet and bared her body before him once more.
His randy cock responded, as it invariably did to this woman.
Wakefield cursed and loudly.
Somehow the already pale beauty managed to go even whiter.
“Given my identity,” he said, determined to get this meeting done and get himself as far away and as fast as he could from the woman. “You know how to find me should you need to get word to me and…” He fumbled about. “I believe it would be helpful if I had your identity as well.”
She sank back on her haunches, and had she not been seated upon the bed, he rather thought she would have collapsed. He wasn’t even certain he’d have been able to catch her.
Horror washed over her face. “Oh, my God,” she repeated.
Shite. Bloody hell! Theyhadmet before.
You bloody dolt! Of course you’ve crossed paths with her at some point. That’s why she seemed familiar and why he faintly recognized her. He searched his mind, but this was hardly the time for him to be able to pull anything out of his rapidly spinning thoughts.
