Before he could even ponder what had just happened, he felt the cold pond as he plunged into it. Desire dissipated quickly when he found himself immersed in the freezing water. It was like a brutal slap. He managed to surface after the initial shock, mouth sputtering and water dripping from his hair.
“Anastasia! Why did you do that?” he roared. “Damned if I should trust you again.”
She stood on the bank, gloriously naked now. His jaw slacked. His mouth went dry. He could not think of a terrible thing to tell her now as he watched her skin glowing in the moonlight.
“You have claimed your reward, Mr. Straton. However, you have not specified if you would like to see me naked on dry land,” she declared, her laughter sounding like bells.
Growling in exasperation and desire, he lunged forward, gripped her by the ankles, and yanked her into the pond with him. She screamed, no doubt not expecting the buttoned-up duke to play her game.
Benedict caught Anastasia in his arms, watched her hair plaster to her cheeks, and thought she was still the most beautiful woman she knew. The cold water lapping at their skin could not take away the heat. He pulled her toward him and muttered, “My turn,” before kissing her once more.
This time, the kiss no longer held anger or competition. It was only hunger that was left behind, as their mouths pressed and their tongues touched. Anastasia met his kiss with as much passion, deepening it when she pulled him closer.
His hands explored her body underwater. She felt soft and firm, the sensations on his palms undeniably erotic. He touched her breasts, and they felt heavy in his palms. Her nipples pebbled from the cold and from his fingers’ attention. She explored him, too, hands traveling over his firm chest. Then, one hand reached for his tight abdomen, and then even lower.
Benedict broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. They were both panting, catching their breath. The pond undulated around them, lapping at their thighs, but nothing could cool down the heat they were feeling.
“Look at me, Anastasia,” he whispered, his voice raw and almost pleading. “What I said before… I meant it. We are not playing a game. It is not a mistake that I will take back. This is the truth.”
Her eyes gleamed, full of moonlight and hope. She looked certain, as if she leaned on his words.
“I know that this is terrifying,” she whispered back. “I am terrified. B-but I want to know one thing. Are you still running from me? Will you stay with me?”
The halting words that came from her were uncharacteristic. They made his heart twinge as he wrapped his arms around her,pressing her closer. How could he run away from this woman when he could not fathom being separated from her?
“I am here,” he reassured her. “I want you. Everything about you, including the infuriating chaos you represent.”
She might not have said the words, but peace and trust showed on her face.
Benedict walked them toward the edge of the pond, even as half of their bodies were still submerged in water. Then, he broke the kiss to appreciate the beauty in front of him.
Flushed cheeks.Dilated eyes. Droplets clinging to her lashes while her swollen lips parted.
“I have never felt like this before,” he growled. “And I want you. No, Ineedyou. Now.”
Anastasia did not flinch. If anything, she lifted her chin, defiant even with her breath caught and her body trembling against his.
“Then have me,” she said, voice low and unsteady. “But if you claim me, Benedict…” Her gaze flicked to his mouth. “Don’t leave me feeling foolish again.”
Something in his chest tightened painfully at the words, as if she had reached inside him and closed her fist around what he kept hidden.
Everything felt as if it were in slow motion. Deliberate. It was almost as if he was waiting for her to say no. Even then, his eyes burned on her as he took in every detail of her body up close. His hands trembled as he reached out to touch her cheek. It was wet from the pond, but were there tears, too? Her lower lip quivered even as her eyes gazed at him defiantly.
“What is it?” he asked. He had never seen her look like that. Anastasia always met him with her chin up and a retort ready, as if daring the world to try her. But now her mouth trembled, and her eyes held a hesitation that did not belong to her. It made him pause at once, because whatever had unsettled her, he wanted it dealt with—immediately.
“I… I have never done this before,” she said.
He would have kissed her either way, but when he lowered his head this time, Benedict did not rush. He held her face as though she were something breakable, his mouth moving against hers with careful restraint, the kind that cost him effort. Even as need pressed hard and relentlessly through him, he kept his pace measured, watching her closely.
He did not step away. He stayed against her, chest to breast, thigh to thigh, holding her as though he meant to make it impossible for her to doubt what he wanted. His hand slid from her jaw to her waist, then lower, drawing her in until she could feel exactly how much he had been fighting himself. He shifted his stance, placing himself between her and the chill, blocking the wind with his body, and when he felt her shiver, he tightened his hold, as if the thought of putting even a breath of space between them was no longer something he could tolerate.
“Are you certain about this, Anastasia?” he asked, his voice sounding strangled. He would die if she said no, but he must respect it.
“Y-yes.”
He approached her then, bare and ready. Her mouth made an “O” shape at the sight of his erection. Fear and fascination seemed to blend in her eyes. He kissed her again, soothingwhatever apprehensions she might still have. His tongue danced with hers as he explored her mouth while his hands explored the curves of her hips and buttocks.
When his fingers touched her core, she gasped. It was a sound of surprise and pleasure. She was already wet, slick, and ready for him, but he knew that he had to help her prepare for his size. He worked slowly, tracing her slit over and over, until she was moaning and thrusting her hips toward him. With each movement, one finger slid deeper and deeper into her. He worked to stretch her with that finger while his thumb rubbed at her nub.
