“One thing you should know about me, Miss Belmont, is that I can eat and sleep no matter what is rolling around inside my head.”
He didn’t sound angry anymore, and he was so close now his scent reached her. The air around her had suddenly changed, almost as if it was alive with something magic. “Simon, go back to bed, and we will decide the best course to break our betrothal in the morning.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you today. I should not have dismissed your sleeping problems so lightly.”
“It matters not. You were remembering your youth and were still angry with me over what you’ve been forced to do.”
“I was angry with the circumstances that were forced upon us, Claire, not with you, and I should not have spoken as I did.” He moved closer, his bare toes brushing hers. It was the briefest touch, yet she felt it as if he had wrapped his hands around her feet and stroked them. “I sometimes need time to sulk and run things through in my head, and I did not get that time until I arrived here. It is childish of me, I know, but unfortunately, I have always been that way.”
“Go to bed now, and I will follow soon, Simon.”
“Liar.”
He leaned forward slowly, and Claire could not pull away. She was mesmerized by the look in his grey eyes. Gone was the emotionless man, and in his place was danger. Heated eyes roamed her face and her body, and Claire felt a sudden hunger sweep through her that robbed the breath from her lungs. “What are you doing, Simon?”
His lips touched her neck, brushing over the skin softly.
“S-Simon.”
“I can think of nothing but how you were in my arms that night, Claire.” He moved to her chest and kissed the skin above the neckline of her nightdress, stopping when he reached her buttons. His fingers released the first one and then the next. His movements were slow and torturous, and Claire could hear the rasp of her breath as he reached the last button and slipped it through the hole. Her breath caught in her throat as he opened the bodice wide, exposing her breasts.
She couldn’t speak as he touched her. A long finger traced the outside of one of her breasts as his eyes held hers. She couldn’t pull away or do anything to stop arching towards him as that finger touched the sensitive tip of her nipple. Dear god, she felt that wonderful ache build between her legs again, that sensual heat begin to mount inside her once more. He kissed her then, seeking, teasing, and searching out her response, which she willingly gave. His large palm cupped her breast, and she shuddered beneath him. Claire had no idea how long he kissed her for–minutes, hours. She lost every thought but for the man who held her. Where one kiss stopped, another started until finally he pulled back, his breath ragged as he looked at her. Fire blazed in his eyes and was answered in her own as she reached for him again.
“I won’t stop this time, Claire.”
He pushed her back slowly to the bookshelf, then lifted her hands to wrap around the wood. “Hold the shelf.”
She did as he asked, a puppet that was his to control. Her body needed him.
“Sweet Christ, you are beautiful,” he rasped before placing his lips on her again. Claire was awash with sensual pleasure as he ran his mouth and tongue over her, caressing each curve and peak, laving and stroking until she was arching towards him again, eager for more.
His hands slid beneath the hem of her nightdress, and, placing his palms on her skin, he moved the garment slowly up her body, and then she helped him pull it off her head and throw it to the floor behind him.
“Just feel, Claire,” he whispered, kissing her ribs. “Focus on the sensations, sweetheart. I want to hear your cry of pleasure.”
“Y-your family?”
“Are sleeping and the door is shut.”
Closing her eyes, Claire rested her head on the books behind her and felt his mouth on her stomach, kissing the smooth skin and then moving lower. Biting her lip, she fought back the cries she wanted to make.
“Sing for me, sweetheart.”
She was a maiden; surely this should horrify her, yet it did not. She delighted in the sensations as Simon taught her body how to respond to his wicked hands and mouth.
“Your scent, Claire–so sweet yet spicy–it drives me wild with need.”
His hands parted her thighs, and she felt his hot breath between them. His tongue stroked the soft folds, and his teeth took the small hard bead, and she could do nothing to stop the moan that came from her lips. Her fingers dug into the wood, her knuckles white as he brought her to the brink. The pressure built and built until she was begging him to release her, and then he once again bit gently into that secret place and pushed his finger inside her dewy folds, and she was lost. Crying out his name, she shuddered as waves of ecstasy rolled over her.