Her Perfect Match

chapter Fifteen


The latest party his mother had dragged him to had been a failure of nightmarish proportions and Benedict’s head pounded as he entered his foyer. He waved off his chattering butler and trudged up the stairs.

His mother knew about Vivien. She wasn’t so indelicate as to state her knowledge outright, thank God, but her desperation in matchmaking and her comments about appropriate brides made it clear that his brother had taken his concerns to a whole new level.

Now debutantes were being thrown at him like tomatoes at a street skirmish and because of his title and fortune, not a one seemed to care about Vivien’s appearance at the earlier party. He had danced until he was certain he had a blister and the empty, cloying chattering of chaperones echoed in his mind.

He pushed open his chamber door and slammed it behind him with the heel of his boot. Boots he immediately began to remove even as he made for the bell to call for his valet. Before he could do so, a voice stopped him.

“I would be happy to stand in Mr. Aubrey’s stead if you are in need of assistance.”

His hand still hung in the air, inches from the bell, and he could not bring himself to turn right away for fear he would find the room empty.

“Benedict?” the voice repeated.

He finally forced himself to move toward that voice and sighed with relief as he saw Vivien standing beside his bed, watching him. Her blonde hair was down around her shoulders and back, her dress had been removed at some point and she was wearing a thin, silky white negligee in its place. In the firelight, her body was perfectly outlined beneath it.

He swallowed past a suddenly thick throat.

“I did not expect to see you here,” he whispered.

She moved a step closer. “I hope that doesn’t mean I’m not welcome.”

He shook his head. “Most welcome, I assure you.”

She slipped closer, but he held out a hand. “I need to say something. I know I hurt you at the ball the other night. When you did not return my missive the next day, I believed you wished to end our affair. Not that I blamed you.”

She held out a hand to him. “Oh, Benedict, firstly it was I who thought up the idea of how to handle Beecher that night, to trade on my less-than-stellar reputation. I had no right to be affronted by what my own words wrought. It was churlish to do so. And the reason I did not reply to your missive was because I pondered ending our affair, for your good as much as mine.”

“You did?” He stared, confused by her openness, as much as her presence. “And yet you are here despite your thoughts about ending our affair. Unless I am dreaming.”

She laughed. “You are not dreaming lest it is a shared dream between us. I am here because what is between us has always been so much more complicated than I have ever admitted. Leaving, breaking from you…it has never been as easy for me as it should have been.”

He drew back. In the years they’d known each other, that was the closest thing to a confession of emotion he’d ever heard.

“I’m not ready to be parted from you again,” she whispered as she lifted his hand to her breast. “So please don’t ask me any more questions. Let us leave analysis for another day. Just be with me, here, tonight.”

If he had protests or further inquiries about her decisions, they melted from his mind as he slipped his free hand into her hair, tilted her face and pressed his lips to her. Being with her was the one thing he knew how to do. If she desired pleasure, he could most definitely do that for her…with great satisfaction.

His opposite hand, which she had placed on her breast, began to move, gliding the back of it up and down, brushing the nipple through the thin fabric of her nightrail until she shivered against his lips and made a sound of pleasure deep in her throat. She slid her hand up his chest, past his shoulder and draped it over the back of his neck as she lifted herself in eagerness to be closer.

He guided her to his bed and when he laid her against the pillows, he looked down at her. Closer was always what they had fought to be, at least in bed. Even when she pushed him aside emotionally, she had opened her arms to him physically.

Perhaps it was her only way of accepting him. Perhaps that was the only way he could sooth her fears and make her feel safe and loved.

He dropped his lips to hers a second time, but this time the kiss was gentled. He stroke his tongue over hers, tasting her slowly, savoring every second that he was so close. He felt her relax with his ministrations, which was in itself a movement of trust. One he intended to prove he was worthy of.

He pulled back and moved to his side, cuddled close to her. He fingered the lacy strap of her night rail. “This is beautiful.”

She looked up at him and her surprise was evident. “Thank you. I had it made years ago, but never wore it.”

“Never?” he repeated in surprise.

The corner of her lip quirked up. “No one else would have appreciated it as much as you.”

“I doubt that, but I encourage it if only so that I will be the only man ever to see you in it.” He leaned over her to press a kiss against the front of her shoulder, around the strap he had been fingering.

She let out a little sigh. “That is very nice.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, his breath coming short as he kissed lower, where the strap connected to the gown itself. “As is that.”

He pushed the strap from her shoulder and revealed the smooth globe of her breast. They were the perfect breasts, really. Sized just to fit into his hands, rounded and peaked with dark, dusky-rose nipples that currently strained and were hardened by desire.

“I have always been fascinated by your breasts,” he said as he flicked his thumb over the peak once, twice.

She shivered, but laughed. “My breasts or breasts in general?”

He glanced up at her with a playfully stern expression. “Both, I suppose, but mostly yours. Their sensitivity has long been a study of mine.”

To accentuate the words, he leaned over and stroked his tongue over the nipple, swirling it in a tight circle around the peak while Vivien cried out with pleasure that made him laugh against her skin.

“You see, my research is proven,” he teased, returning his attention to lightly thumbing the now-wet nipple.

“I can see that I must abandon myself to this, for it is quite important work,” she said, her tone playful but strained by desire. “The ramifications could be far reaching.”

He chuckled, loving this lightness between them. “Indeed. All womankind could benefit from your brave bearing of my experiments.”

“Then experiment away,” she breathed.

She smiled up at him and his breath caught. Had she ever been so lovely? Relaxed and playful, he could see something girlish in her. Something she hid from the world behind that façade of the knowing, experienced mistress to the important and rich. Tonight he truly was with someone no other man had seen or touched, a fact that gave him great pleasure.

He shook his head to clear those thoughts and while he continued to tease her nipple with one hand, he glided the other down the long, silky length of her nightgown until he caught the hem. He began to hike the dress up, past her knees, her thighs, until he rested a swath of white satin against her stomach.

“I thought your research was dedicated to my breasts?” she asked, staring down the length of her body to his hand, which now rested on her smooth, naked thigh. “Or have you moved on to a new subject?”

“Indeed not,” he said, pretending affront at such a suggestion. “But my most interesting point of study is how connected they are to your ultimate pleasure. For instance, when I do this…”

He sucked her naked nipple between his lips and began to suckle, tugging hard on the engorged flesh. Vivien gasped and then began to writhe, gripping at the coverlet, lifting her hips as she moaned out a sound of pure pleasure.

“Ah, you see,” he said, letting her nipple slide from his lips with a pop. He glided his fingers up until he lightly fingered her sex. “Very wet now. I can make a conclusion.”

She was out of breath, staring at him with wide, wild eyes. “And that is?” she panted.

“Making you wild is one of the greatest pleasures of my life,” he responded as he moved his lips over hers.

Although he had been playful, it was evident he had truly brought her to a point of pleasure that bordered on madness. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him against her with all her might, her kiss wild and passionate, drugging and seductive.

As much as he wanted to savor this moment, to play with her, tease her, he couldn’t deny that his body ached for more fulfilling games. He wanted to be inside her, joined with her in the most primal way possible. He wanted to feel the wet stroke of her sheath as he drove deep within her. He wanted to make the tremors of her release build until her body milked the same from his.

He pulled back and stared down at her. Her bright eyes held his and for a moment he saw every emotion she so skillfully hid every day. He saw desire, yes, but also fear and sadness, loss and yearning, and even a flicker of love, bright but gone before he could verify it had existed.

“Please,” she whispered.

He couldn’t deny her request. Gently, he tugged her gown over her other shoulder and dragged the entire contraption away from her body. He tossed the silk over the edge of the bed and looked at her, naked and perfect against his pillows. Tonight she was his and he intended to take full advantage of that.

He returned his attention to her breasts, pressing them together so that he could suckle one nipple, then move to the other to repeat the action. She mewled with pleasure, jolting and shivering as he thumbed and sucked the tender peaks.

“Take off your clothes,” she panted when he took a moment to pull away and catch his breath. “Now.”

He laughed. “Ordering me around, are you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Please, please take off your clothes.”

He swallowed at the need in her voice, more intense than it ever had been before. He shoved off the bed and stripped out of his clothing in record time. When he rejoined her on the bed, she reached for his cock with a shudder of need. He let her stroke him a few times before he changed position.

He pulled her to a sitting position and kissed her as he maneuvered her. She opened her legs without resistance, lifting herself on his lap at his urging until his cock was at her entrance. More importantly, she was face-to-face with him in the most intimate of positions. They looked into each other’s eyes as he slid deeply within her, encountering no resistance after all her excitement.

Her grip on his shoulders tightened and she moved to bury her face in the crook of his neck, but he lifted a finger to press beneath her chin.

“Look at me, Vivien,” he whispered, his tone caught between an order and a plea.

For a moment, her stare was pure terror, but then she nodded. They locked gazes as he began to move. With the first stroke, pleasure tore through him, ricocheting through his body with an intensity that took him off guard. She responded to the thrust, riding him, milking him, letting him feel her pleasure and see the rising tide of it in her clear blue eyes. He felt entirely joined with her, more powerfully than he had ever felt before. It was intense, passionate, and above all else, loving.

He felt the flutters of her orgasm just as the hot burst of his own rose out of his control. Together they cried out, clinging to each other, lost in the other’s stare, as their bodies jerked out of control. She pulled his seed from him with her wild thrusts and the only time she broke his stare was when she tilted her head back and let out a low, hungry cry of pleasure that seemed to fill the room, fill his ears, fill his soul with satisfaction.

She fell forward against him, clinging to him as she buried her face in his bare shoulder. He leaned back, pulling her against him as he lay down. He expected her to move, to draw back, to excuse herself. Instead, she settled in against him and held him.





An hour had passed since they made love and Vivien remained against Benedict’s side. She felt warm, safe, comfortable and for the first time in all her life, she did not want to run from those intense feelings. She sat up a fraction.

In the dying firelight, Benedict’s face was relaxed in sleep. He was so handsome, so perfect.

She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead and he did not stir with the motion. She smiled, but the expression faded as a strong desire welled up in her. A desire to do something she had never done before.

She touched him again, to be certain he was not awake. When he didn’t move or react, she leaned closer, her hands shaking.

“I love you,” she whispered.

The words sounded so foreign coming from her mouth, from her voice. True, but foreign. And yet somehow comforting to finally admit out loud what she had felt for weeks. For years.

Suddenly exhausted, she cuddled against his side and let herself drift into sleep. Tomorrow might bring a whole new set of pains, but tonight she was happy. And tonight was enough.