Page 78 of A Devil in Silk
If she’d ever needed a definition of raw, unrestrained power, this was it.
“Clara … wait.”
But she didn’t. She curled her fingers around him, the weight of him hot and heavy in her palm, startling and intoxicating all at once.
Bentley’s breath hitched as he closed his hand over hers, not to stop her, but to guide her pace. “Clara. You undo me. Every damn time you touch me.”
How fortunate, touching him topped her list.
Emboldened, she drew her hand in long, slow strokes, each groan and jerk of his hips a small victory. He was so thick, so perfectly hard, that the thought of claiming him felt like a conquest worthy of London’s boldest adventuress.
“Clara! If you keep this up?—”
His warning died as he caught her wrist, dragging her flush against him. His mouth claimed hers, hot and hungry, hisrestraint torn to shreds. He walked her back in a fevered rush, trousers hanging low on his lean hips, the crown of his arousal gleaming in the candlelight.
He drove her back until the bed caught her knees, his hands already shoving fabric upward in a tangled rush. He kissed her like a man starved, breaking only to fight with buttons and laces, desperate to strip away every barrier between them.
Silk whispered to the floor. Gown, petticoat, each layer revealing more until she wore only her stockings.
A cool draught brushed her bare skin, pebbling her nipples.
Bentley’s gaze lingered, dark and intent, hunger simmering in its depths. His hand raked over his mouth as though to restrain himself, yet the look in his eyes told her exactly what he wanted—to bow his head and worship the rosy peaks of her breasts.
Her knees nearly gave way when he finally did.
His mouth closed over one tight bud, his tongue circling in slow, maddening strokes. A startled gasp escaped her, followed by a moan she couldn’t contain.
“Whatever you do, don’t stop.”
He obeyed, sucking gently, then harder, his hand cupping her breast, thumb teasing the neglected peak until every nerve in her body sang. A deep, pulsing need built low inside her, sharper than any thrill she’d ever chased.
Don’t let this night end.
He raised his head just enough to meet her gaze. “I could spend a lifetime learning every inch of you, and still crave more.”
She wanted to say she could stay here with him forever, but the words lodged in her throat, too raw, too dangerous to speak aloud.
“I’ve dreamed of doing this so many times.” It was the only truth she dared to admit.
“And I’ve dreamed of you,” he murmured, the words rough, torn from somewhere deep.
He reached for the jewelled comb in her hair, tugged it free, then removed each pin, setting them on the nightstand. When the last one fell away, her hair spilled over her shoulders in midnight waves.
“God above,” he breathed, sinking his fingers into the silken strands. “Do you know what it does to me, seeing you like this? Knowing I’m the only man you’d trust to see you bared?”
The truth of those words settled deep. She trusted him, more than anyone on this earth. “I’m not entirely bare.”
A sensual hum vibrated in his chest. “I’ll strip off your stockings once I have you on the bed.”
“I was referring to my eye patch, not my stockings.”
His gaze softened, not with pity, but with something much like admiration. “Then let me remove that too.”
Touching his chest kept the rising panic at bay. “Wouldn’t you rather I kept it on?”
“I want to see all of you. Every scar. Every truth.” His thumb traced her cheek, easing away her fears. “Nothing could make me want you less.”
Her chest squeezed tight, not from shame, but from the fear of being truly seen. She gave the smallest nod, afraid the truth of her flaws might shatter the moment.
