Her Perfect Match (13 page)

He got to his feet and moved toward her for the first time since he had begun to recite his plan. He saw her tense with caution, but there was also invitation and pleasure in her stare. She wanted him, despite her need to keep him at arm’s length.

“You know, if you like you could be the one to nail his coffin,” he said, tone seductive.

She hesitated before she responded. “How?”

“I am invited to a fete where Mr. Beecher and Miss Felicity will be in attendance. In fact, I have heard they intend to announce the betrothal at this very party. If you accompanied me,
you
could plant the seed with Beecher that will destroy all of Dersingham’s hopes.”

He expected the joy that had been on her face to double at this last suggestion, but instead her smile fell and she backed away with a hurried step.

“Go with you to a Society party?” She paled three shades. “No, no, it would be highly improper.”

He looked at her in true wonder. Vivien was a host of contradictions, at once so certain and yet so tentative.

“But oh-so entertaining,” he responded, his voice calm in order to sooth her.

“I wouldn’t belong there,” she insisted.

“Men take their mistresses to Society gatherings from time to time, surely you have been taken to them before. But if you are suddenly frightened—”

She caught her breath. “I am not afraid of anything!” she snapped, rising to his bait perfectly.

He arched a brow. “You are afraid of any feeling deeper than desire.”

He hadn’t meant to say such a volatile thing, to tweak her about that subject, especially not when they had just reached a new level of comfort between them.

Just as he expected, Vivien turned her face with a sigh. “Benedict—” she began, her voice soft and tired.

He shook his head and reached for her to keep her from walking away from him.

“But it doesn’t matter, does it?” he pressed gently. “We are sharing passion, not anything more. So I ask you for your body if you won’t give anything deeper.”

Her gaze lifted with a wickedness that jolted to his very core, hardened his cock and made him achy with desire.

“That is one thing you don’t have to ask for,” she teased, moving closer so that her breath brushed his lips. “We can retire to the other bedchamber right now and—”

“No, I’m afraid that will not do,” he interrupted. “Here. I want to make love to you
here
.”

Chapter Eleven

Vivien was reeling, though she felt she was doing a reasonable job of keeping that fact to herself. From Benedict’s demands to see this very private place, to her strange desire to give him what he asked for, to his detailed plan on how to destroy an Earl, to his declaration that she feared emotion…

None of it made her feel safe or settled. All of it left her confused and trapped in the corner by his boldness.

“Make love here?” she asked, and her voice shook against her will.

He did not respond with words, but merely nodded his head slowly.

She freed her arm from his gentle hold and backed away. “But this is
my
chamber.”

He smiled. “We’ve made love in your chambers before.”

She pursed her lips, for he was purposefully mistaking her meaning. Forcing her to say out loud words that were best kept unspoken.

“Not in this chamber,” she said, lifting her gaze to meet his with the dignity she kept no matter what her station or situation. Sometimes that dignity had been all she had.

“And why not?” he asked, equally quiet.

She shook her head, partly in frustration and partly in continued refusal.

“Here I am different. Here I’m…” She struggled for a way to explain herself, but could only manage the truth. “Here I’m me.”

He seemed surprised by her candor, but then his expression softened. “Don’t you know that
you
is who I want to make love to, Vivien? Unfettered by whatever masks you wear for others, uncontrolled by the rules you make for yourself. I wish to make love to
you
.”

She could scarcely breathe as she swallowed past a suddenly thick throat. He was asking her for more than she had ever given anyone. From his expression, he recognized that fact, saw the seriousness of his request as he patiently waited for her to stop fighting this private war inside her and give him an answer to his appeal.

And the worst part was that deep inside, she wanted to say yes to this request. She wanted to give herself to him in a way she had never done before. To tell him the secrets he wanted to hear, the ones that could destroy her, because he would keep them safe.

But it wasn’t fair to either of them to do that.

Was it?

She bit her lip with anxiety and avoided his stare as she whispered, “Not now. Not…yet.”

He moved forward slightly. “But perhaps someday?”

She heard his hope and it both inspired a brief vision of a future she could never have and broke her heart.

And yet she did not refuse him. She couldn’t, somehow, even if it was best for them both. She would leave soon, so the unnamed “someday” would never come. What harm would it do to leave that dream alive awhile longer, for both of them?

“Perhaps,” she whispered. “But for now, why don’t we go to the other chamber as we always have? There will be pleasure there, I promise you.”

He cupped her chin and tilted it up to stare into her eyes. She shivered at how deeply he seemed to see. There was a connection there that terrified her. Thrilled her.

“There is always pleasure, Vivien,” he said softly. “And one day I think there could be even more. If you let me in even a little.”

She pulled back and moved to the door. She motioned him out, but as she followed him down the hallway toward the other bedchamber, she couldn’t help but ponder the fact that his words mirrored Mariah’s. Both encouraged her to allow someone past the walls she had built, into the heart she had long left cold and empty.

If only both of them could understand how impossible that request was.

He pushed the door open and briefly looked around at the false bedroom. She did the same and felt a curious emptiness that had never touched her before. There was nothing special about the big bed, the sensual lighting, the soft colors meant to seduce. There would be pleasure here tonight, but she feared she might regret not taking the other sensations Benedict had offered her a moment before.

Her regret softened, though, when he turned toward her, drew her to his chest and brought his mouth to hers in a kiss that melted her very bones with its heat and intention. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself against him as she prayed he would feel how much she did truly want and feel for him. That was all she could give him at the moment and it would have to be enough.

If he sensed the desperation behind her touch, he didn’t speak of it, but merely guided her back to lie her across the bed. She watched as he slowly removed his clothing, tossing each item away until he stood totally and gloriously naked before her.

She leaned forward against her will, driven to touch him as if she had never touched a man before. She quivered with excitement, her body humming with a need to please him, taste him, claim him even if she never spoke words of love out loud.

Reaching out, she caught the smooth perfection of his cock in one palm, stroking him from base to tip. He let out a growl of pleasure, thrusting into her hand a second time as his cheeks flushed and cock hardened even more.

She licked her lips and then took him deep into her mouth, deep enough that he touched her throat and filled her entirely. She groaned at the sensation, how good it felt to give him this pleasure. It had always excited her to do so, and never with anyone more than him.

She pumped him deep within her mouth, rolling her tongue around him, feeling him twitch with pleasure he battled to control. She fought just as hard to steal that control as she added the pumping grip of her hand to her pleasuring.

He reached out and gripped the headrest, his eyes shut, and he moaned out her name low and sweet. His hips began to move in time to her strokes, maneuvering him closer and closer to exactly where she wanted him to be.

She smiled. Yes, she could still manipulate him when it came to sex. And that gave her some solace that her power remained.

But just as her smug satisfaction allowed her to relax, he tugged his cock from her lips and pushed her back to lie on the bed. He covered her body before she could protest and his mouth came down on hers with as much insistence and drive as she had exhibited a moment ago.

She melted into the kiss despite herself, lifting to be closer as he shoved her dress around her waist and covered her sex with his hand. He began to tease at her entrance, dragging his fingers across the weeping slit, just dipping their tips into the warmth there.

She gasped at the sensation and a sudden realization that flashed into her addled mind. This was a war. Both of them were battling for supremacy, control, surrender. In most relationships, those terms would be violent, but here they were about passion and emotion. She wanted only one, he demanded the other. She feared she was slipping, losing their battle, for feelings were creeping into her heart that gripped her with terror and regret.

She gasped as she shoved the thought away and instead opened her legs wider and lifted to force his fingertips inside her clenching sheath. He laughed.

“Always demanding,” he whispered before he lowered himself over her, pinning her to the bed as he positioned his cock at her entrance.

Instead of taking her, though, he merely stared down at her, tenderly stroking her cheek.

“Don’t you know, Vivien? You never have to demand from me. Simply ask for what you desire and I would give you anything.” He kissed her. “Anything at all.”

Unexpected tears leapt to her eyes as he slid deep within her in one slow stroke. She buried her face into his shoulder and lifted her hips to him, giving him with her body what she could not afford to share in her heart.

The electric explosion of orgasm hit her suddenly, without warning, so powerful that she screamed out against his flesh, digging her fingers into his back as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. He grunted in response and clutched her closer, his hips jerking erratically before she felt the hot splash of his seed inside her.

He went limp over her, cradling her to him as their panting breaths merged into one over seconds, moments. She clung to him, smoothing her hands over his back, pressing her lips to his flesh and knowing, more than she had ever known anything, that what she felt for him had gone too far.

She loved him. That fact was so clear that she couldn’t believe she had ever doubted it. She loved him, just as she had loved him when they parted three years before. Just as she had loved him all throughout the interim of years that separated them.

And yet, even knowing that, she also knew that she could never have him. All the reasons that kept that from being possible still existed. Would always exist. So she would have to find a way to let him go, to cross him off her list, even though she would leave her heart with him in London when she finally swept out of the city for the last time.

Chapter Twelve

Vivien sat at her dressing table, staring at the list before her. Her list of unfinished business, which she had stuffed into a drawer when Benedict stumbled upon it three nights before. She hadn’t dared to look at it since, knowing that she had not truly completed any of the items written on the heavy paper.

Knowing that certain items, like Benedict, would be left unfinished thanks to the foolish beating of her heart.

“Tonight I
shall
cross an item off,” she said, looking at herself in the mirror.

Her appearance was the same, but how could that be? She was irrevocably changed now—how could it not be written all over her face?

“Foolish girl,” she snapped as she got to her feet and smoothed her gown. “You will not become a ninny because of this man. Just because you feel something does not mean it will change you.”

She stormed from the room and down the stairs to the parlor. She knew Mariah was waiting for her there and she refused to show her friend any difference in her demeanor.

Forcing a smile, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Mariah was wearing a pretty gown, dark blue and covered in a fall of lighter flowers along the skirt. She looked…like a lady, which was, of course, what she was by marriage, but also by something deeper.

Suddenly Vivien felt quite out of place, even with her best friend.

“Oh, I do love that gown,” Mariah gushed as she crossed the room to give her friend a quick squeeze.

Vivien looked down. Suddenly her green dress felt too low-cut, too revealing of both her body and who and what she was. Everyone would look at her, everyone would see…

“Thank you,” she said, but her voice cracked.

Mariah stepped back to look at her closely. “What is it?”

“Am I so transparent?” Vivien asked on a sigh as she extracted herself from her friend’s embrace and walked to the sideboard to pour herself a drink. “This does not bode well.”

And it didn’t. The last thing she wished to do was reveal too much of herself to the other guests at tonight’s gathering or to Benedict, who was always looking for a revelation. She was teetering on a very dangerous edge now. She couldn’t afford to fall.