Craving the Rake's Touch (Rakes of the Caribbean) Read Online Free PDF Page A

return to the hallway.”
    “Not for an hour or so.” Benedict chuckled irreverently. Once, she’d loved that laugh, irreverence and all. “Come back around one and I imagine you’ll see all nature of clandestine maneuverings.”
    “This is not that sort of house party,” Sarah replied, trying to ignore the shivers down her spine, the heat pooling in her belly, the race of her pulse. She would have thought she’d be far more immune to him after all this time, after having her need slaked just hours ago. She had to hold on to other memories, too, less pleasant ones.
    He’d bedded her, and left her with nothing more than false promises. Surely she’d learned her lesson about toying with such a man. Yet, her body didn’t seem to agree. It was all too ready to play with Benedict’s brand of fire again even when it knew better. This afternoon should have been proof of punishment, not pleasure.
    Benedict ignored the comment. “I wouldn’t be so certain of that. I’m sure Devonshire has a little something lined up at the very least.” He kissed the tip of her earlobe, sending a frisson of want down her spine. Did anyone touch as well, kiss as well, as Benedict? She should move away and make it impossible for him to touch her. That had always been her undoing. Once he started, he was unstoppable.
    Summoning all her reserve to pull away, Sarah stepped inside a small sitting room off the hall. It was a room her mother used for personal business on occasion. At least now they’d be out of plain sight should anyone wander by, and there would be some distance between them.
    Her efforts didn’t stop Benedict. He leaned an arm against the wall above her head in casual gesture that trapped her between him and the wall, making her acutely aware of his maleness. His catlike eyes, alert and predatory, glinted in the dark. “How was Brisbourne, Sarah? Was he all you thought he’d be?” She did not feel intimidated by such a show of power. She felt aroused by it; all that primal possessiveness focused on her.
    “Could you imagine him in your bed?” The question brought a blush to her cheeks. How had he known? Even her private thoughts were not sacrosanct when he was around.
    “Ah, I see you were contemplating it. As rightly you should.” Benedict gave a wicked grin. “Marriage demands one be comfortable granting intimacies to one’s partner, after all. I seem to recall we were once quite comfortable with such intimacy between us.” His eyes lingered on her lips in fair warning. She had only moments to recognize the signal and no time to react before his mouth slanted over hers, his desire evident in the press of his body against hers.
    He kissed with his entire body—his mouth, his hips, his hands all worked in concert in those heady moments of contact. But what her mind had tried to forget, her body remembered with shocking clarity. Sarah felt herself respond as if his last kiss had been yesterday instead of years ago. Her mouth parted, her tongue flicking out to taste him. Her arms were around his neck, hands digging into the depths of his hair, her hips arching in to his in answer to his intimate press. This was sin at its most sensual, futility at its finest. How dare he dangle such temptation in front of her when he knew she could not do this, not now when so much was on the line. “What you are trying to prove, Benedict? What do you want?” she managed to ask between kisses.
    “Isn’t it obvious?” Benedict nipped at her ear with his teeth. “I want you. And you rather want me, too, if I’m not mistaken.”
    That was when she slapped him.

Chapter Seven
    “Bloody hell, Sarah! What was that for?” Benedict stepped back, a hand going automatically to his wronged cheek, his other hand going immediately to the door and shutting it. It was too late to stop the resounding smack of her hand across his face, but it would certainly muffle the ensuing row.
    “That was for kissing me!” Sarah fairly shouted.