Page 40 of Seducing Sophia (Scholars of Seduction)

CHAPTER11

Though Sophia struggled to understand the words of the song, their meaning was not lost on her. As Adrian sang, his voice thickened with desire as his tongue curled around the words. Adelia had always said that Italian was the language of love—and seduction. And she was right. As the song progressed, Sophia’s body warmed with the heat of her own desire. Adrian’s voice might not be the most proficient, but it held a rawness born of passion and love for the music.

Though he stood behind her, she became acutely aware of his presence, the air shimmering with warmth from his body as his shadow fell across the keyboard. His voice rumbled in his chest and her body resonated with the vibrations, as if responding to the call of his flesh.

As the song drew to a close, he placed his hand on her shoulder and his finger caressed her neck, an absentminded gesture, as if affirming the connection between them. The skin tingled at the base of her neck, and a low whimper escaped her lips. His voice echoed in her mind, resonating with the words of love in the song.

His hand stilled. Unable to stop herself, she leaned back against his body and he resumed his caresses, tracing a path across the nape of her neck. A wicked heat pooled between her thighs and she shifted position to ease the ache that had been building deep within her from the moment he’d started to sing.

“Did you like the song?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. “It was beautiful.”

“Much like the woman before me.” He ran his hand across her shoulders and down her arm until he reached her hand, still on the keyboard. He teased her fingers apart, running his fingertip between them. She shifted her thighs apart, mirroring the movement of her fingers, and he blew a soft sigh on the back of her neck. Her body came alive, and she tipped her head back. Previously unknown sensations swirled in her center and she let out a whimper of need—but for what, she couldn’t fathom.

“Shall I tell you what the song is about?” he whispered.

A jolt fizzed through her body as his tongue flicked against her neck.

“Please…” she whispered.

“Ahhh,” he sighed. “To hear you ask, so prettily.” His lips curved against her skin and he placed a delicate kiss behind her ear, sending a ripple of heat to her center, where wetness was already pooling. She squeezed her thighs together and he drew in a deep breath.

“The song is about a man who admires a woman from afar,” he said, lowering his voice to a deep rumble that vibrated through her body. “He plans to seduce her, but finds his heart ensnared before he can claim her.”

“And what does he do?”

“He places himself at her mercy.”

His lips moved across her skin in a line of fiery kisses, leaving a trail of burning desire in their wake. A small cry of need erupted from her throat and she interlocked her fingers with his.

“Adrian…”

He caressed her shoulder then moved his hand lower. Her breath caught as he dipped his hand below her neckline, and his fingers circled her breast. Her nipple hardened against his fingertips, and he squeezed it gently, sending a firebolt of desire through her. She gave out a low cry.

“Do you like the song now, Sophia?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“May I continue to sing for you?”

Unable to speak, she nodded. Gently, he turned her around until she faced him. He was so close, she could discern the delicate pattern in the fabric of his waistcoat. She lowered her gaze, and let out a soft gasp when she saw the bulge in his breeches.

“As you see,” he said, “I am already at your mercy.” He kneeled before her and looked up. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, but a silver fire burned in the center. Fueled by a need she couldn’t conquer, she reached for him and buried her hands in his thick dark hair.

“Take me, Sophia,” he said. “Make me yours.”

She lowered her head and brushed her lips against his. He responded and plunged his tongue in her mouth, reigniting the fire in her. As he moved closer, she shifted her thighs apart to accommodate him and he gave a low growl of approval.

He reached for her ankles and drew her skirts up and she whimpered as cool air brushed across her thighs. He drew in a deep shuddering breath.

“Ah, Sophia,” he said. “Your need for me is more potent than the finest perfume. May I taste it?”

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

His eyes widened for a moment, then he smiled. “Do you trust me to show you?”

Dear Lord—what was she doing? Sitting with her skirts around her waist, like a wanton? Yet the tone of his voice and the look of hunger in his eyes promised such pleasure…

---