He could not help but let his gaze travel over the exposed skin, as if he had never seen anything like it before. His eyes traced even the curve of her calves and the often-neglected indentation behind her knees. Even the one that taunted him, hiding beneath the bunched fabric. His fingers itched to touch her skin once more. No, this close to her, it was not just an itch but a hunger and a physical demand. The hunger felt like something clawing out of his disciplined exterior.
The duke watched her for a long time, savoring how the moonlight transformed her into nothing less than a goddess. He was done fighting against his feelings. He had spent weeks trying to regain some semblance of control. But now, there was no denying that he wanted her. It was a sudden roar within his chest, loud and proud. In that moment, it drowned his uncle’s voice. It blurred the list of rules, continually taunting him in his head.
“What business did you have in my study, scribbling nonsense on my papers?” he said instead, his voice dangerously low.
Control was barely at his helm, but he tried to keep a firm grip. The woman before him, however, was unbelievably calm. She looked up at him as if she had no care in the world.
“I thought you might find it amusing, Mr. Straton,” she teased. Her eyes danced, illuminated by the moonlight as if the verystars were in them.
“I did not,” he lied. He could still remember how his mouth had curled into a smile at the thought of her mischief and her words. “I find it highly infuriating, like everything that you have done so far. You like breaking rules and challenging order. Nothing is sacred to you. Even my life is a jest to you.”
“I am not sure I believe you,” she murmured, still unshaken. “If you really thought that, you would not be here in the middle of the night. Or is it that you like chasing the chaos that you do not have?”
She rose from her position slowly, the hem of her dress dipping into the water. She approached him, with her dress dripping water onto the grass and her bare feet. He was reminded of Aphrodite Rising.
“I won at chess the other day, Miss Dawson,” he reminded her. “Do you recall the deal? The loser must follow the winner’s command.”
Benedict was shocked at his own words. This was far from what he was thinking, what he was dying to tell her. But his castle of cards was tumbling down, and he was grasping at some control.
“Of course, I recall,” she breathed, her chest heaving and her eyes widening slightly. “After all, I set the terms. What would you have me do?”
“I am here to claim my reward,” he said, his voice suddenly husky. He should not have said it.No, stop it.Yet, the words tumbled forward, growing more confident with each beat. “I want you to strip naked before me. Right now. Out here.”
He could hear her sharp intake of breath. He had managed to shock her and himself.
“My goodness, Mr. Straton. Spending time with me has truly managed to corrupt you.”
“Corrupt me?” he echoed as he took another step toward her. “Perhaps you have merely released a side of me I was keeping hidden.”
She flushed as the challenge floated between them, like the urgent flutter of fireflies. However, the weight of its pressure was more of a gauntlet, right there where they stood on the dewy grass.
Her moonlight eyes revealed surprise more than the gentle parting of her lips. It was satisfying to see Anastasia look uncertain. Hesitating. For a moment, the temptress looked caught off guard, like in the final moments of a chess game.
But the woman knew how to play her game, revealing a knowing smile. Still, she did not undress as he had asked her to. He suspected she no longer wanted to do what was asked of her, but would do so for herself.
“Is that so?” she asked, her voice a low thrum. He liked that she did not sound like the debutantes he often met, with their overly high-pitched voices, designed to please. “Do you like what you see now that is not quite as hidden?”
Anastasia, confident goddess that she was, did not wait for an answer. She edged closer until she could place a hand on his chest. His heart pounded beneath her palm, hot and searing into his soul. He started this flirtation this time, but it was his control that was threatening to unravel.
“And when you are done, when we are both breathless and satisfied, will you again leave me and claim this is yet another terrible mistake, Your Grace?” she asked, openly challenging him, even as her heart trembled with the rest of her body. Her voice dropped low as she played what she thought of as the most dangerous game she had ever played in her whole life.
The question seemed to fuel his desire, as she saw his eyes widening. His touch, and even his mere nearness, spread heat all over her body even though she should be feeling cold. She should be shivering.
“No,” he rasped. “Not this time. Not anymore.”
Then, he kissed her.
He was not gentle. A savage need to claim her overtook his being. She was right. He was no longer quite hidden in the way that his lips and tongue met with hers. She was as ferocious and desperate as he was as she pulled him closer to her.
Closer and closer, even when it was no longer possible, his world had significantly narrowed, anchored in the heat and sounds coming from her mouth.
Soon, he could feel more of her: the weight of her body, the scent of her skin. It was all about her, and she had not even stripped her clothes off. It reminded him that he needed to get her out of her clothes, propriety and common sense be damned. So, he reached for the damp hem of her dress and fumbled with the fabric. His usual precision was gone. What was left behind was need.
Anastasia fumbled with his cravat and waistcoat, hands trembling with urgency. Soon, their layers of clothing fell to the ground, and they were oblivious to the chill. Benedict felt thewarmth of her bare back. She was hot even against the night air. A finger traced the length of her spine. She shivered.
He wanted more of her. More. His hand reached for her backside and pulled her against his hard length. She moaned. He kissed her to stifle the sound. Her hips began moving beneath his hands, seeking contact.
But then, she broke the kiss and pushed him squarely on his chest with a strength nobody would expect from her small frame. He did not expect that at all. The kiss was so intense, and they were so close to consummating the burning heat between them.
