Why did her simple invitation seem to be one of sin rather than common sense? Shall we sit? Why the devil would he sit when he wanted nothing more than to lie down, plunder, possess… Truly he could think of any number of actions he would rather give his full participation to than sitting.
Alas, he was in public, and though his reputation laughed in the face of propriety, he couldn't bring himself to ravish the girl in public, no matter how badly he desired it. Katherine's eyes crinkled at the sides as she offered a small smile and brought her hand down her neck to her chest.
Minx.
Dessert, yes she would be his dessert if he made it through dinner. But about the likelihood of accomplishing that, he had his doubts.
By the time the third course was served, Benedict had imagined all sorts of ways to kill oneself with a fork.
There was of course, the slow death of pounding one's head against the sharp object. Naturally, he could slice his skin with the knife if he felt so compelled. And his personal favorite, trying to swallow the thing and hoping death would come swiftly in the form of asphyxiation.
None of those options, however, provided him a fast enough escape from his current predicament.
It had all started with the soup.
And went downhill from there.
There was nothing particularly wrong with the soup. It was hot, and he was hungry, but his damned eye had the ridiculous notion that it needed to pay attention to the woman on his right.
Katherine, to be exact.
And hell if that eye didn't train on her very lips as she held the spoon near them and closed her eyes in ecstasy.
He had shifted in his chair.
Deuced uncomfortable dinner to be honest.
He prayed the soup would be taken away and fifteen agonizing minutes later, it was replaced with something new.
Ah! Yes, at least roast goose would give him respite. For what woman in all creation could make roast goose look erotic?
Oh, how wrong he had been.
Even now his body tightened at the thought.
And he wasn't quite sure eating dinner would ever be enjoyable again, at least not when he had guests surrounding him and Katherine dropping pieces of meat into her delicate mouth. He nearly wept as she would close her eyes and moan when no one was looking, no one but him unfortunately. Her vulgarity knew no end, yet he found it fascinating as the low rumble would start in her throat and spread until he nearly dropped his fork each time she brought food to her lips. Finally, she would swallow and take a sip of wine, what he wouldn't give to be glassware in that moment.
Well, he hadn't eaten anything at all, which of course caused a ridiculous amount of questions. Was he not feeling well? Had the ride from town been rough? If only, he thought, if only it was anything but demure.
Voice hoarse, he had merely shook his head and prayed for Katherine to spill her wine or do something clumsy.
Instead, his unsteady hand hit the wine causing it to topple onto the white cloth. Once dessert was served, the women retired away from the men, and he was finally at peace with his cheroot and brandy out on the balcony.
And then he felt her.
Benedict couldn't help but think it had to be some sort of sixth sense, that every time she was near, he would begin to shake and lose control of his calm exterior. His body would heat, thinking on her until he wanted to begin stripping his clothes.
"Am I interrupting?" she asked, lightly falling beside him, her dainty arms leaned across the balcony, breasts spilled over her dress, and again he was struck dumb. Why in blazes hadn't she worn a coat?
"You'll catch your death out here," he grumbled, disgusted with his lack of bodily control. As it was, he was having a devil of a time keeping his arousal in check, and he hadn't even touched the girl.
"Well, good thing I have my fiancé nearby to warm me up." Katherine looked up at him with merry eyes and patted him lightly on the shoulder.
It was his undoing.
That one touch.
The one gaze from her eyes.
And again he found himself falling, as if he could no longer see straight or stay in balance if his life depended on it. His need was so great that he wanted to yell and laugh at the same time.
Instead he just kissed her.
But to say it was just a kiss would be like saying the ocean was just a mass of water, or the sun was just a star. No, this kiss was unlike any other kiss he had ever experienced in his lifetime or hoped to experience.
Because, he thought as his lips danced with hers, it was shared with his other half.
And in that kiss, as she sighed into his arms, as his tongue dove deep into the velvet moisture of her mouth, he knew he wanted to continue to fall if it meant she would be the one to catch him.
In the end, was that not what everyone else wanted?
With the strength of a god, he pulled back and muffled a curse before raising his eyes heavenward. "She's won, by Jove, she's won."
"Pardon?" Katherine's lips were still swollen from their kiss, her eyes barely visible through her thick lashes. "Who won?"
"The devil."
"I thought you were the devil?"