She skimmed her hand up and down along his length, working him into a frenzy of need. His hips moved, practically of their own volition, seeking more and more of her. Her thumb grazed the tip, smoothing the moisture there over his skin. He groaned, desperate to be inside her.
He claimed her mouth once more, driving his tongue into her as he longed to do with his cock. Gathering what little remained of his sanity, he put his hand on her sex and stroked her folds, finding her wet and ready. She whimpered into his mouth, and it was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard.
He circled his thumb over her clitoris, then speared his finger into her. She cast her head back, breaking their kiss to cry out his name.
He grasped her hip. “Lift your leg and wrap it around my waist.”
She did as he said, curling her leg about him with his assistance.
“And the other,” he managed to rasp through gritted teeth. He helped her once more. “Now put me inside you.”
She positioned him so he felt her heat. Thrusting upward, he buried himself deep. She clutched his shoulders.
Kissing her again, he didn’t go slow this time. He couldn’t. There was a wildness within him he’d never experienced, a primal need to claim her. To completely possess her.
And to be possessed by her.
One of her hands tangled in the back of his hair, pulling hard on him as her legs squeezed around him. He thought he might die from the pleasure of it all.
He let go, driving into her with a relentless pace that brought her quickly to release. Her muscles spasmed, her body tightening against him as her orgasm slammed into her.
His came roaring behind. Christ, he had to pull out. He would have given anything not to.
Somehow, he removed himself—just in time—and managed to set her on the floor before taking himself in his hand and making a terrible mess. A moment later, she gave him a handkerchief, then he bent to clean the floor.
“My apologies,” he murmured, feeling like an ass, but not regretting a single moment.
She pulled her glove onto her right hand. Bennet hadn’t even realized she’d removed it, but her hand had definitely been bare when she’d touched his cock. God, he thought he could easily go again.
“I should apologize,” she said, smoothing her hair, which still looked flawless. “I dragged you in here.”
He finished buttoning his fall, then swiftly kissed her, his hand cupping her nape. “Don’t ever apologize for this, for wanting me, or anything else.”
“Anything else?”
“To do with sex,” he clarified, smiling. He took in her slightly amused expression, the familiar tilt of her chin, the lush sweep of her kiss-reddened lips. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” she said softly, her gaze darting away, as if she were embarrassed to admit it. Or that it made her vulnerable—he understood that. She’d seen him at his absolute worst and somehow managed to like him. Perhaps that was why he was so drawn to her and couldn’t stop thinking about her.
She looked back to him. “That was a poor idea, however. We can’t repeat it.”
“I suppose not. In our defense, I don’t think we really thought it through.”
She cocked her head. “Then why did you ask to see me?”
He blinked. “You thought… You thought I wanted to have sex?”
“You’re right. I didn’t think it through. I saw you, and I actually stopped thinking.”
A giddiness swirled in his chest. “I confess to feeling rather the same,” he murmured, taking her hand and stroking her wrist with his thumb. “I wanted to see you so we could talk privately without drawing attention. I just had to see that you were all right, that I hadn’t ruined anything for you.” While she seemed fine, he held his breath.
“I’m more than all right. I was fortunate to be hired as Wexford’s sister’s companion. Speaking of Wexford, you seem on good terms with him now.”
“I apologized to him and Lady Wexford the other night—for hiding the reasons behind my interest in her and for my behavior at the boxing match. The night I fell into villainy.” He grimaced and let go of her hand.
“Thankfully, it was a brief plunge,” she said with a wry smile. “Where have you been these past weeks?”
Had she been looking for him? Or at least paying attention to whether he was in town? “Did you know I wasn’t in London?”
“You’ve been a popular topic of gossip,” she said sheepishly.
He laughed. “That was to be expected. I stayed in Hersham another couple of days because Logan managed to find me a coach I could afford. Then I went to Aberforth Place to lick my wounds.” He winked at her, then immediately sobered. “Not really. I needed to check on some things—and sell a painting to pay for the coach,” he confessed wryly, wondering why he felt so comfortable sharing the depths of his financial woes with her.
Because she cared. She listened to him, comforted him, and gave him hope—something he realized he’d been rather short on.
“I’m glad you have a coach, but sorry you had to sell a painting.” She looked at him with such sympathy. He would never understand how she’d been able to forgive him.
And he was grateful it wasn’t pity, for there was a difference. Lucien’s expression had been tinged with the latter. As had Wexford’s and Lady Wexford’s.
He leaned toward her and whispered, “It wasn’t an attractive piece.”
“Ah, well, that’s a relief.” She paused, seeming hesitant. “I suppose we should return to the assembly. I shouldn’t be gone too long. Kat is dancing, but the set is likely almost done.”
“Yes, of course.” He gestured for her to precede him from the bedchamber.
They left her friend’s room, and she closed the door firmly behind them.
“What friend of yours has an apartment at the Phoenix Club?” Bennet asked.
“She’s the bookkeeper.”
He didn’t ask more since she didn’t seem keen to offer it. After so many days together, he’d learned to read her quite well.
“I’ll let you go downstairs alone,” he said, stopping in the corridor.
She nodded. “Thank you. I’m so glad to see you well. You’ll recover from this.”
He only hoped it would happen in time to save his family from ruin. If he couldn’t pay for Aunt Agatha’s care at the hospital—
He refused to even think it.
“Good night, Ben.” She kissed his cheek, then disappeared through the door to the stairs.
Bennet leaned back against the wall, his shoulders drooping. He ought to feel wonderful after their tryst—and he did—but he also felt unsettled. And sad, because he knew he couldn’t see her again. Not like that.
Probably not at all.
As Prudence climbed the back stairs at the Phoenix Club the following morning, her mind filled with thoughts of Bennet, specifically with the memory of last night. She’d caught a few glimpses of him at the assembly afterward before leaving at midnight with Kat. He’d been dancing. And he was so elegant on his feet.
It was almost painful to watch him smile at his dance partners knowing he’d been kissing her—been inside her—just a short while before. But she had no time or space for jealousy. He wasn’t hers nor would he ever be.