Chapter Six
Benedict stood in El’s entrance hall, resisting the urge to fidget.
Simmons had departed not a moment ago to inform El of his presence, and the disquiet that currently plagued him was utterly ridiculous.
He’d visited El hundreds— thousands—of times, but it had never before been so he could teach her of seduction.
As he’d promised her, it had been two days since their last lesson and he’d needed every minute of it to get his head—and other body parts—correct.
He’d not known when offering himself as her tutor he would become lost in the lesson, the line between real and instruction becoming blurred.
He’d reminded himself El was his friend and she trusted him, so if his body reacted to the lure of a beautiful woman, he needed at all times to remember that woman was El.
His El. The one person he never, ever wanted to lose, because he did not think he would do at all well without her.
He heard footsteps slapping the parquetry and then El rushed into the hallway, a glorious smile on her face. His heart skipped before beginning throwing itself against his ribs. Christ, calm down, man. What had he just said to himself? She’s your friend.
Coming to a halt before him, she took his hand. Her fingers were warm and delicate curled around his. “Come with me,” she demanded.
He let her tug him forward. “You are acting like Gregory.”
“I have waited two whole days, Benedict. You are fortunate I do not wrench your arm from your shoulder.”
He laughed at that, but then she always made him laugh. “Where are we to, by the by? Are we not to your drawing room?”
“Not today.” She led him up the stairs and down the corridor, away from the drawing room they usually occupied. Halting in front of a door, she opened it and ushered him inside. “Voila,” she said with a flourish.
He looked about and then raised a brow at her. “Why are we in the library, El?”
“Because,” she said.
“Ah, yes. That age old reason.”
“Because,” she stressed. “Assignations often happen in places like libraries. Everyone knows that.”
“Oh? Everyone?”
“Yes. Do not be obtuse.”
He smirked, she rolled her eyes, and it was always as it had ever been. He and El against the world. “So why are we here?”
Turning her cheek, she bit her lip and tilted her head.
Like a magnet, his gaze was drawn to the elegant line of her neck, the delicate cord standing in relief.
Two days ago, he’d been tempted to trace the length of it with his tongue until she moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked her silky flesh.
Her light, flowery scent would wind about him and he’d growl, his cock hardening as he drew her closer and—
“Benedict?”
He jerked his gaze to hers. Brow creased, El regarded him in perplexion.
Heat rushed into his cheeks. “Apologies, El. My mind wandered.” Christ, he couldn’t allow his mind to wander in that direction. Not again. Not ever. He’d spent the last few days getting his head in order so it would not wander. He would not allow it to become undone again.
Nodding, she said, “I should like to discuss something different, if you please.”
“Of course.” He gave her an encouraging smile.
She chewed her lip, her gaze on his.
“El?” he prompted.
“I should like to know if I can deliver a kiss that devastates,” she finally said. “And, because of our lessons, you are uniquely placed to determine if I can.”
A buzz started in his ears. “Pardon?” he said, the word strangling in his throat.
“Lord Malvern will expect some experience, and I do not wish to disappoint him” she continued, unaware she had dealt him an apoplexy. “I think it best to discover now if I am bad at it.”
Thoughts still a riot, he said, “Surely those you have kissed have told you.”
Her cheeks went red. “I, well… I have not, so no one has, um…” She trailed off, her eyes pleading.
Slowly, it dawned on him what she was stammering. She had never been kissed? Were other gentlemen blind? He knew she had avoided suitors, and he had helped her numerous times to do so, but surely at some point she had…
Her red cheeks spoke otherwise. A strange satisfaction settled, his gaze drifting to her mouth. No one had touched those lush pink lips, no one had discovered their taste. No one had swallowed her moan, or felt her yield to his demand and devoured her mouth. No one.
She scowled. “Do not look at me so, Benedict. It is not odd I have not kissed anyone. There are precious few opportunities as a debutante, and there were even fewer gentlemen who I even wished to converse with, let alone kiss.”
He did not correct her. Better she not know the real reason for his satisfaction. “How then do you propose we proceed?” Christ, she wasn’t going to suggest she kiss some bounder while he watched, was she? The thought soured his stomach and made him want to punch the bastard.
“I shall kiss you,” she announced.
The buzz in his ears became a roar. Blood rushed south, and he was suddenly overwhelmingly, painfully, hard.
Bloody hell. This was a million times worse.
His feelings for El were already confused enough, he didn’t need to complicate them further by knowing exactly how she tasted.
“Your first kiss should be special,” he managed.
She crossed her arms. He tried very hard not to notice how her breasts plumped with the move. “Was yours?”
Christ, he could not think straight, but the memory of his first kiss bled through.
It had not been particularly special. He’d been too eager, the girl had been mostly disinterested, and it had been sloppy and wet and extremely awkward.
Strangely, he had thought of El immediately after and a kind of guilt had eaten at him.
However, they weren’t talking about him. “That is neither here nor there.”
She rolled her eyes. “It is only I should also like my first kiss to be with someone other than Lord Malvern.”
“Yes, but—”
“It is only a kiss, Benedict,” she interrupted. “People give them all the time. Besides, how shall I know if I am any good at it if you don’t tell me? You are the only person I trust to help me with this.”
How could he argue with that? It was a privilege and an honour she trusted him. Still, he felt compelled to protest, “This is a bad idea.”
“Nonsense.” Taking his hands, she led him to the chaise. Instead of seating him upon it, however, she led him to lean against its back. Standing back, she studied his pose critically.
Leaning against the chaise, he was only a little taller than her, their eyes almost level. Raising a brow, he asked, “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you are the right height.” Nodding to herself, she stepped forward and, reflexively, he shifted his legs so she was between them. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she said, “Now stay still.”
He tensed as El leant toward him, her gaze locked on his mouth. Less than a breath from him, she hesitated.
Recognising nerves had her wavering, he said quietly, “El, we do not have to do this.”
Her eyes flicked to his. Uncertainty lurked in their depths a moment, but then they shuttered. Scowling, she said imperiously, “Close your eyes.”
He did as she asked. Her scent wound around him, light and sweet, and he could feel her breath against his mouth, just as light and just as sweet. His hands balled to fists.
Soft lips touched his, as delicate as gossamer. His breath caught in his throat. Her fingers remained on his shoulders as she brushed her mouth over his, and he dug his fists into his thighs to stop himself from touching her. This was her kiss. He would not take over. He would not—
She made a small sound, breathy and needing, and the world disappeared.
Capturing her hips, he pulled her into the cradle of his thighs and took control. He deepened their kiss, opening her mouth with teasing flicks of his tongue, and when she responded, when her tongue hesitantly touched his, any gentleness that remained in the kiss fled.
She whimpered into his mouth, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
He wanted to consume her. Drown in her and her kiss and have her never let him go.
He wanted to do all the things he’d always told himself he’d never imagined: her stretched out beneath him, her fingers tangled in his hair, and her soft curves cushioning his body.
He licked into her mouth and groaned as her taste exploded on his tongue. She tasted tart and sweet, of the tea they had both drunk and the coconut cake he loved. She was all his favourite flavours and he wanted more. Needed more.
Splaying his hand over her back, he pulled her closer, her breasts flattening against his chest, and he cursed the fabric keeping the heat of her skin from him.
His palm ached to feel the smooth flesh of her back, to trace the delicate line of her spine.
But she was allowing him this, she was allowing him her mouth, and he kissed her as if she were his, as if he had always wanted her to be his, and perhaps, in this moment, she was.
With a gasp, she tore her mouth from his. Heavy-lidded eyes locked with his, her mouth lush and reddened, swollen from their kiss. Need shot through him, his cock heavy and throbbing. Christ. He had made her look like that.
Bending her head, she kissed him again.
This time, she dove into his mouth, her tongue tangling with his.
They kissed and kissed and kissed, and she made noises at the back of throat that drove him wild, little whimpers and moans.
Flame licked down his spine and spread through his blood.
He sucked her lower lip before catching it with his teeth, biting her and then soothing her with his tongue, his hands sliding up her back to draw her closer.
He never wanted to let her go, he wanted to stay here always, her mouth ravishing his as her confidence grew, as her tongue licked at him in imitation of his, as her fingernails raked through his hair, holding him in place as she ravaged him.
But they couldn’t kiss forever. It had to end and when it did, he had no idea how long they had been locked together.
She remained in his arms, her eyes closed and a smile curving her kiss-swollen lips.
Fierce pride roared through him, and passiveness made him tighten his arms around her.
The mouth he had made look like that with the kiss she had given him.
The one she had asked for. Because she wanted someone else.
Reality punched his chest. Bloody hell, what was he doing? El had asked him to help, not salivate over her like a rabid animal. “I do not think you need worry about your ability to deliver a kiss that devastates.”
Her lashes fluttered and passion-dark eyes captured his. “Are you devastated, Benedict?” she asked huskily.
He was. Christ, he bloody was. He needed to be away from her. Now.
Untangling himself, he took a step away and then to be on the safe side, he took another. “Lord Malvern will not be disappointed, that is certain. I do not believe you require further instruction, but if you wish it, of course we can conduct further practice.”
The dazed expression fled and she straightened, smoothing her gown over her stomach. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Benedict.”
“No need to thank me,” he said, hating that she had lost that delicious softness but he did not trust himself. Not now. “Perhaps we should leave it there for today, El. Do you agree?”
Dismay cut into her expression. “Will you not stay for tea? I can ring for a fresh pot.”
“Alas, I cannot. I am due at Colgrove House. We are dining with the children this evening.”
“Oh. Well of course you must go,” she said. “I’ll see you at the Worthington ball, yes? Or perhaps at St James Park? I meet Victoria to promenade tomorrow.”
“Yes. Perhaps.” He offered her a bow, and before she had risen from her curtsey, he strode from the room. From her.
Far enough down the hall to ensure she did not follow, he stopped. Bloody hell. It had been only a kiss. She had not ruined him.
He rubbed a hand over his mouth. He swore he could still taste her.
Exhaling, he dropped his hand. Nothing had changed between them.
They were friends, he and she, and a kiss—her first and his best—would not change that.
She wished the Earl of Malvern as her lover, and he had no business thinking of her as anything but his friend.
That kiss had been a means to an end, and now she had what she sought.
Malvern would not be her first kiss, but the earl would get her other firsts.
Lead coiled in his belly.
Straightening, he strode through the house. Ultimately, it had meant nothing, not to either of them, and it had changed nothing. He was helping her attract someone else as her lover. This had been nothing but a means to an end. It had meant nothing.
And maybe, if he repeated that enough times, he might even believe it.