Craving the Rake's Touch (Rakes of the Caribbean) by Bronwyn Scott

Author:Bronwyn Scott [Scott, Bronwyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-12-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Let me persuade you. We’ll take it one night at a time. Benedict had a serpent’s own tongue. This was absolute madness! He’d promised marriage before and failed to follow through. Why would this time be any different? Or perhaps it couldn’t be different. Only this time, it was she who couldn’t allow it. She had to marry money and Benedict didn’t have any, not in the sums she needed. Yet, those arguments held no sway here as they ventured out into the dark hallway and mounted the staircase, her hand gripped in his.

The import that they were headed for her bedroom was not lost on her. It was one thing to couple on the moderate comfort of a divan in a library in the midst of a ball, where haste was required by two people overcome with youthful desire. It was another thing entirely to deliberately seek the sanctuary of a room specifically designed for intimacy, a place where they would not be disturbed, where no haste was required. They had all night.

The very thought of such a night spent with one of London’s most notorious lovers was enough to send her pulse soaring. That the man in question should be Benedict was positively heart-stopping. It was perhaps the most wicked thing she’d ever done. It was also quite likely one of the most honest. Maybe even the most honest thing she’d done in this entire Season of deceit and playacting, pretending to be something she was not.

But not tonight, Sarah thought as Benedict ushered her inside, a hand warm at the small of her back. Tonight was going to be different. Tonight she was not going to pretend she didn’t care a whit for Benedict DeBreed. She wasn’t going to hide behind sharp words and an armor of haughtiness. Tonight she wasn’t going to ignore the flutter in her stomach whenever he was in the room. She wasn’t going to deny herself the thrill of his touch, or the way he made her feel when he spoke to her, looked at her with those eyes—as if she was the only woman who mattered. Tonight would be for her, for all she’d given up in order to be the good girl her parents had raised her to be.

The door shut softly behind her, her gaze suddenly riveted on the bed dominating the room, but she turned at the sound of Benedict’s voice, low and intent, as he uttered four simple words. “Are you sure, Sarah?”

He leaned against the frame, his eyes twin green flames as he studied her, leaving no doubt that he was sure and yet it was the most vulnerable she’d ever seen him. He wanted, waited, for her compliance. He would advance no further without it.

But she would. The next move had to be hers and it had to be a bold one. Sarah stepped toward him, her hands resting at the waist of his trousers, her mouth seeking, her answer whispered between kisses. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure.

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