The only flicker of movement in his entire body was the faintest stirring of his eyelashes. He didn’t even appear to be breathing—this fact was confirmed when he did eventually take a deep, shuddering breath.
‘Ben…’
‘Hush,’ he ordered huskily. His finger traced the outline of her quivering mouth before sliding inside her parted lips. The intimacy was totally devastating. ‘I love your mouth. You try and make it all prim and proper and all the time it’s just saying, Taste me, kiss me.’
She moaned out loud and pressed the back of her hand to her lips as he ran his tongue over the finger he’d just used to explore her mouth.
‘You taste so sweet. I really like the idea of you tasting me. Would you like that?’ he persisted throatily.
The erotic picture his sinful words were building made her dizzy. Her fingers tightened convulsively on the fabric of his shirt and several buttons came adrift. She felt the fabric part and even though she tried desperately not to she found herself looking downwards.
The skin over his washboard-flat belly was smooth and the tan was too dark to be attributed solely to his olive complexion. She wanted to touch him so badly, tears stung the back of her eyelids. Her body was convulsed by a feverish shudder.
‘Perhaps you’re right. I should just have sex with you!’ The words emerged suddenly, loud and harsh. She didn’t have many defences left. ‘Get it all over and done with and things can go back to normal with your giant-sized ego intact—after all, no woman can refuse Ben Arden, superstud!’
Benedict lifted his head. Melting capitulation would have been nice, but Benedict wasn’t a man easily discouraged. He knew a last-ditch effort when he saw one.
‘There’s no perhaps about it,’ he replied huskily.
The sexy rasp combined with the suggestive heat in his eyes made her want to endorse his view. Hold on, Rachel, she told herself, harnessing her runaway tongue firmly; you’re trying to defuse this situation, not ignite it!
‘It’s probably the simplest way to get this out of your system.’ She tried to imply she was nothing but a disinterested observer—it wasn’t easy.
‘Is this the point where I’m supposed to be so offended by your icy detachment that I retire, my ego irretrievably bruised?’ To her horror he looked amused.
‘I’m just being realistic. Would you prefer I got all emotional?’ Perhaps she should just confess she’d fallen in love with him—that should be more than enough to make him back off, she thought bitterly.
‘Of course this strategy of yours only works if you endow me with finer feelings. If I don’t recoil in disgust and say “Yes, please”, you’ve just shot yourself in the foot,’ he pointed out helpfully. ‘As for a superstud?’ He shook his head from side to side reprovingly and grimaced. ‘I might just have such a high opinion of my sexual prowess that I’m confident you’ll come running back for more. Or I might be callous and selfish enough to turn a blind eye to your obvious lack of interest in the whole sordid business if it means slaking my terrible lust. I really don’t think you’ve thought this one through properly, Rachel.’
‘I wouldn’t actually go to bed with you!’ she protested weakly.
‘On the other hand,’ he mused, ‘if your surrender is couched in those terms you can rationalise it as being the only logical solution to a trying problem—a sacrifice for the greater good. Can it be I was doing you an injustice?’ he wondered out loud. ‘This removes any nasty nagging problems about how you’re going to explain to yourself that you want me in your bed. And you just can’t do that, can you, my love?’
‘I’m not your love,’ she choked, using up her last reserves of defiance.
‘And you’ll probably hate me tomorrow,’ he agreed with a placidity that was contradicted by the fierce predatory glitter in his eyes.
‘I hate you now.’
‘That’s a start.’
‘Are you mad?’
‘The jury’s still out.’
‘What are you doing?’ she yelped as he swept her up into his arms. God help me, I’m enjoying playing the weak, defenceless female! she thought.
‘My office has a lock and a sofa.’
The idea of a locked door gave her a completely false sense of security. ‘And you have the key?’ she asked, breathing hard; she’d abandoned all pretence of rejection.
‘No,’ he said, pressing something cold into her hand. ‘You have.’
Rachel discovered the sofa was softly upholstered and the material was smooth against her naked back. The lacy bra she wore was almost but not quite transparent, and Benedict found the almost part incredibly arousing—at least that was what he said and his actions thereafter tended to confirm this statement.