Chapter Seventeen
“I thought you said it was close,” Benedict grumbled as the raindrops sluiced down his face.
“I-I thought it was.” Her lip was already trembling. He needed to heat them up. And fast. “Maybe if you hadn’t insisted on carrying me it would be closer.” Considering her vulnerable position in his arms, he had to admire the way her chin jutted out in that small act of defiance.
But still, if she was already this cold, it wasn’t about to get better until they found shelter. His conscience wouldn’t survive if anything fatal happened to her on his watch.
“There it is.” Her teeth chattered as she pointed to a small cabin in the distance.
Not slowing down for a second, Benedict aimed his feet toward their refuge and forged ahead.
Only a second after they had crashed into the small place, he scanned the room, locating the fireplace and a few pieces of firewood.
“This place looks recently occupied,” he said more to himself than Amelia.
“I-I come here often. To think.”
He wanted to know more about that. What did she do here? Why did she like to be alone? But he couldn’t besiege her with questions right now. His priorities were exclusively focused on making a fire.
Without delay, he found the supplies he needed and perfectly placed the kindling then lit it. Soon, a small flame took to the wood.
“Y-you’ve done that before.”
“I also like to spend time alone in one of the cabins on my property. It clears my head to chop wood and be alone with nature.”
Her eyes went wide at that confession, but he couldn’t decipher the exact reasoning for why they rounded as much as they did. Like two small plates, they were so large.
But then his irritation took over his curiosity. “What are you still doing in those clothes?”
She grabbed herself protectively around the waist, but he ignored the missish gesture. “Get out of that wet garb before you catch your death.”
“I-I’m not undressing here. With you.” Her eyes narrowed in fury. Defensiveness. And possibly something else unreadable.
“You’re certainly not keeping them on your body.”
“Y-yes I am.”
“You can’t even still your teeth from chattering. Take. Them. Off.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Amelia,” he warned, stepping closer. “I will tear those right off of you if you don’t do it yourself.”
“You are an obnoxious oaf.” Her arms were crossed higher now over her chest.
“I don’t care.” It took all of his willpower to keep his fists on his hips and not immediately follow through on his threat. “Get them off. If you have to wrap a sheet around you, do it. Find something dry.”
And then she dropped her arms like two axes blasting through wood to either side of her body.
Damn. He was wet and now he was getting hard.
She was a sight to see when she stood her ground.
He knew it from the moment he first saw her.
Warned himself off of her. When they had met face to face, and again, he told himself that she was off limits.
But it wasn’t so easy to remind himself anymore as to the reasons he couldn’t have her. Shouldn’t have her.
And then of course she had to go and provoke him.
“You’re one to talk.” Her chest jutted out, and—by God—he could see her nipples. Holy hell. If that didn’t make him want to lean forward, grab her, and lick them until she screamed his name.
“Benedict,” she chided for what sounded like the third or fourth time, judging from the annoyed tone in her voice. But damn, the swell of her breasts and those perky nipples were a hell of a distraction.
“What?”
“You’re one to talk.” She pointed to his body, which he couldn’t help puffing out his chest just a little bit. “You’re just as wet as I am.”
He doubted that. But he wanted to be. He wanted to wet his—
“Benedict.” Her voice was raised and her hand was swatting him on the shoulder.
“Hmm. What?”
“I’m going to change. But if I have to get out of these wet clothes, then so do you.”
And that really shouldn’t have shocked him. It was his plan all along not to sit in soaking wet fabric until he caught a cold and died.
But he wasn’t sure she had thought through her ultimatum as much as she should have.
And the reason he knew this was because as he followed her into the back room—because really where else was he going to find long enough fabric to wrap around his torso—she came to an abrupt halt.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to use that sheet around my body.”
And then just to vex her a little more than he ought to, he started to disrobe.
Only…apparently he didn’t think through his threat as much as he ought to because she merely glared at him while starting to withdraw the clothes from her body as well.
They didn’t say a word.
Just matched one article of clothing for another.
His jacket.
Her spencer.
His cravat.
Her stocking.
Each of those pieces flew off and landed in a heap together. One right after the other.
It slowed a fraction when he pulled his shirt over his head, standing bare chested in front of her. Surely she wouldn’t continue at this point—
Her dress slid from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. His breath hitched. And his chest thumped loudly enough to give them a beat to dance to.
It was his turn, but his hand was frozen on the top button of his falls.
It was his turn. He should have gone first.
But her eyes pierced through his soul as she dropped her last layer to the floor. Standing naked before him.
And somehow, ironically, throughout their standoff, they had been taking steps closer to each other.
She was within his reach. Her full form. Fully within his reach. So close he could taste the lavender on her skin. Could see the goosebumps on her skin from the cold.
The cold.
He reached out both of his hands, drawing them up her arms. Erasing the goosebumps. Or at least, that’s what he had intended to do. Instead he found a trail of them multiplying behind his touch.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and her jaw slackened. With a soft voice, she whispered, “Benedict.”
That whisper. That plea. That promise.
It broke him.
He dropped to his knees before her, dragging his hands down her backside, pulling her closer to him.
His lips were at the perfect level to rest on her soft, smooth stomach.
So that’s what he did. Looking up at her as he pressed an anything but chaste kiss on her abdomen.
The shudder that shook her, reverberated through his fingers, and he pulled her closer.
And that’s when he caught a new scent. Her arousal.
“Amelia,” he growled. Not even sure what to say next.
But he didn’t need to say anything to invite her to make a move because her hand was threading through his hair. Gripping him for dear life. To be in control? To hold him in place? He wasn’t sure. But the tension on his scalp only increased his desire for her.
And then as she was taking a step even closer to him, he let his forehead anchor to her stomach while his breath whispered down over her mons.
The whimper told him all he needed to know.
“You like that, Amelia?” He nudged his forehead further down, letting his lips graze the top of her pelvic bone as he spoke.
She cried out his name, arching herself into him.
“You can have more, my darling. You can have it all.” He let the words, like a warm mist, hover over her.
“I-I can’t.”
“Let me give you pleasure. You deserve to feel this kind of joy. Let yourself go, Amelia.”
Her knees buckled. But he caught her before she could stumble. Lifting her up, clasping her against his body. It had to be the most euphoric feeling he had ever experienced.
He laid her gently on the bed and shrugged out of his breeches.
She gave a small gasp that plucked its way right to his heart.
When her eyes found his, he knew he would never be the same. No one had ever looked at him with such fascination, respect, and genuine admiration. But it was more than that. It was also a look of utter vulnerability and trust.
“Benedict, I want to let go. But I don’t know if I can.”
“I’ll make it my life’s mission to get you to let go, Amelia. If you give me permission.”
She nodded and whispered, “Yes.”
And that was all he needed.