Free Eye of the Beholder by Emma Jay Page A

taste of the skin between her breasts before he
stepped back, breaking contact.
    She stared up at him, eyes, wide, dark with
desire, breasts lifting with each breath, nipples peaked against
the silk of her dress. He could smell her arousal, and his own was
excruciating.
    But he wouldn’t take a virgin in the entryway
of his home. He shouldn’t take a virgin at all, but a man with his
disposition had only so much strength.
    She’s in love with you , the voice in
his head warned. If you take her virginity, you owe her more
than an affair.
    He knew that. He knew that. He was no
cad to deflower a virgin and cast her aside. After all, hadn’t he
been the man pursuing her, sending her the dress, attending balls
he knew she’d attend? She’d fascinated him for weeks. Was it love?
He didn’t know—he’d never experienced love. When he’d bought the
dress, he’d had every intention of courting her, but that had been
when his reputation was intact. Now, did he want to risk bringing
her down with him?
    “I’m not the man for you,” he said, those
words the hardest he’d ever had to say.
    “You are the only man for me,” she countered,
taking a step toward him.
    He stepped back. “My reputation—society will
no longer embrace me, Sarah.”
    “You believe that’s important to me? Does it
embrace me now?”
    “It welcomes you. It may not be important
now, but in time--”
    “In time I don’t wish to be here. I want to
be in Europe or the Americas, somewhere, anywhere, I can experience
life. And I want you to show me.” She reached behind her head to
unfasten the dress, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. He
watched helplessly as the fabric loosened around her shoulders and
she shrugged to let it fall to her waist, like the most experienced
courtesan. Her breasts thrust, full and firm, against the silk of
her chemise. His hands itched to feel the weight and texture, his
mouth longed to close over a dark nub and draw it into his
mouth.
    She kept her gaze steady on him and waited.
With a growl, he crossed to her, swept her into his arms and
carried her up the stairs to his bedroom.
     
    ***
     
    Sarah quivered with anticipation as Grayson
sat her on her feet in a bedroom decorated in dark colors and
dominated by a massive bed. He coursed his hands down her back and
made short work of the blue dress, which pooled at her feet. He
bent to sweep it up and folded it over a chair as she stood
awkwardly in the middle of the room, uncertain what to do next.
    He turned to face her, tugging off his jacket
and placing it over her dress before he returned to take her in his
arms, his hand curving under her jaw to lift her mouth to his.
    His kiss was warm and thorough, his tongue
teasing, then sliding deep, filling her with the taste of him,
making her whole body heat. His cock pushed against her belly, his
fingers toyed with the tip of her breast. She unbuttoned his shirt
and spread the fabric open over his broad chest. Her fingers danced
over the defined muscles, glided down his belly until he drew in a
sharp breath and grabbed her hand.
    She pulled free and eased toward the bed,
knowing what to do now, drawing the chemise over her head and
tossing it aside. His gaze riveted to her as he shrugged out of his
shirt and unfastened his pants, his sex jutting toward her. For a
moment she thought about going down on her knees and taking him in
her mouth again. She could feel the texture of his skin against her
tongue, could taste his musky essence. But before she could act, he
was beside her, having removed his boots, but still wearing his
breeches.
    She didn’t hesitate, and closed her hand
around his erection, eliciting a groan from him as she slid her
fingers up and down his length. It was unnerving, actually, knowing
what to do but not what to expect. He shucked off his pants and
closed his hands over her shoulders to ease her back onto the bed.
The duvet beneath her was soft and she sank into it, for a moment
thinking she’d