Page 62 of One Day for a Valet

Sofia’s head lolled to the side in invitation and she wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning into his sturdy frame. With the drapes thrown wide, the moon’s determined glow weaved through the low-hanging branches, casting soft silver light through the window and onto Christopher’s tawny locks.

“You are delicious,” he murmured into her neck. “Sweet.” He laved the tip of his tongue across her collarbone. “Soft.” He charted a course to her décolletage and nipped the fabric there. “Exquisitely tempting.”

His hand slid up her sternum and she arched into his caress, shamelessly seeking the stroke of his fingers. Instead, he pulled the creamy material down with his teeth. Lifting her breast to his mouth, he dropped a chaste kiss to her pebbled nipple before parting his lips to play with the pink tip.

“Sweet and delicious. Those are words to describe an apple tart.” Sofia struggled to press the words past her sluggish tongue.

His gaze flicked up to hers, and he smiled. “Argumentative even as you squirm against my tongue for more.”

Sofia moaned as moist heat engulfed her rosy peak. Christopher licked, tugged, and sucked with increased fervour and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of his ravenous mouth.

“I do not squirm,” she panted. “My feet were simply tired of standing.” His teeth grazed her nipple and she buried her hands in his hair, holding him in place even as she baited him further. “It’s these slippers. Violet has tiny feet.”

With a last languorous lick, he released her breast and stood erect, shooting her an incredulous look. “You most definitely squirm, particularly when you watch all the wicked things I do to your body.” Hands gliding down to her rear, he lifted her up and back until she was perched on the edge of the billiards table.

She shook her head in stubborn denial.

“You fight valiantly to keep those lovely brown eyes open.” He stroked a finger down the bridge of her nose. “So you can revel in my struggle to maintain control.” He kissed her jaw. “An impossible feat with your softness filling my mouth … your delectable peak sliding against my tongue.” He palmed her breast, kneading lightly.

Again, she shook her head in weak denial, enjoying the game they played.

Christopher dropped to his knees, removing one of her slippers, then the other. He squeezed her insole and began massaging into the muscle of her calf with both hands.

“Oh, Sofia. You can lie with your mouth, but look at the way your adorable toes curl when I speak.” She glanced down to find her toes performing in just such a manner.

He roamed a fraction higher and paused. “I’m not a betting man, but I would wager that if I slide my fingers inside your sweet quim, it will clench for me every time I describe the erotic plans I have for you.”

She didn’t doubt it. Every muscle in her body was stretched and waiting expectantly to hear what wicked words would tumble next from his mouth.

“Shall we see, Sofia?”

His hand didn’t budge as he waited for her invitation. All traces of playfulness cleared from his face, and her sweet, considerate Christopher looked upon her without demand or expectation. Her heart thrashed in the confines of her chest, and it had nothing at all to do with arousal. She could not lose this man. Whatever convoluted scheme would keep him in her life, she would figure it out and put it into place. Surely there was a way to keep both Oliver and Christopher without hurting the Ansons. Her entire life felt like a compromise, and she was tired of sacrificing one necessity for the next. She had given up quite enough.

She nodded, and he met her silent response with a dimpled smile, all sunshine and unabashed joy.

“Oh, my love.” He leaned in and nipped the inside of her thigh, chuckling when she jerked with a squeak. Raising up on his feet, he kissed her soundly on the mouth, his hands resting on both thighs. Spreading her legs wide, he rucked her skirts up to make space for his body. Sofia melted against him, meeting his mouth and opening against the nudge of his tongue. She dragged his jacket from his shoulders, sighing at the feel of tight solid muscle beneath layers of linen and satin.

“I need to touch you,” she said. It was as much a plea as had ever crossed her lips, and the answering sound that reverberated in Christopher’s chest travelled directly to the pit of Sofia’s stomach. His fingers flew to the opening of his waistcoat and shirt, tearing clumsily, buttons scattering in his haste to free himself. His clothing wrinkled and wrenched open, Christopher wrapped his fingers around Sofia’s wrists and pressed her palms to the bare skin of his stomach. His breath came harshly as he held her gaze with his.

He nodded, slowly.

“You have to let go of my wrists, Christopher, or I cannot move.” He glanced down only long enough to confirm that his fingers were still tightly clasped about her wrists, but he did not relent in his hold.

Another moment passed, and she nodded her understanding. “I will go slow. I’ll stop if you ask it of me.”

“I won’t ask, Sofia. You have to stop anyway.”

“I will.” She kissed his jaw, then pressed her cheek against his. “I promise it. I will.” Christopher’s grip began to loosen as she scattered soft kisses along his temple.. She continued until his hands fell away, finding purchase again on her legs, thumbs tracing circles along the tender insides of her thighs.

Sofia kept her touch unhurried as she explored his shape and texture, revelling in the velvety warmth of his skin, the latent power of his muscles, the rapt expression on his face. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. His entire body shuddered in response to a light graze across his flat nipple.

“You like that.” Arousal bloomed in her stomach. “Do you want me to use my mouth?”

His forehead dropped to her shoulder, and he nodded clumsily against her.

“Not so talkative now,” she teased between kisses along his chest.

Head bowed, eyes shut tightly, he let out a hiss of pleasure as she teased the peak of one nipple to hardness with her lips and tongue.