Page 59 of Love Unraveled
He pretended to lean in for a kiss and laughed at the surprised look on Sophie’s face as he reached past her and tipped the basket lid back open. “I’m starving,” he said, and Sophie swatted him. He pulled out the food and set it on the opposite bench, closed the lid of the basket, and draped a tablecloth over it.
“Bentley directed me to Gunter’s for catering.” He moved the food off the bench and onto the basket.
“Bentley? He knows about this?” Sophie frowned and waved her hand in a circle in the air.
“He knows only I wanted to provide a picnic.” He unwrapped the cheese and the bread. “I suspect he knows who for. He’s been curiously attentive to my comings and goings.”
Sophie relaxed back against the bench. “That is Bentley. He amuses himself with the trivial to avoid anything serious.”
“Yes, he does come across as a bit of a dandy. If he rambles on one more time about that man Brummell, I’m certain I shall hit him.”
“You would not.”
“Perhaps not.” He held out a piece of cheese. “Here,ma chérie, try this. Bentley highly recommended it. If you agree with his opinion of it, then I shall refrain from punching him.”
Sophie took a bite and, looking thoughtful, chewed slowly. “I am not certain…,” she said, then burst into laughter.
“Poor man doesn’t know how close he came to a thrashing.” Gaston slipped the remainder into his own mouth. It was pungent in flavor and entirely delicious. “Enough about Bentley.” He stared at Sophie’s lips, and his hunger for food was immediately replaced with his thirst for her.
Sophie’s tongue slipped out as though to remove a stray crumb. She held his gaze as she raised her hand and tugged at each finger of her glove. She slowly slid the cloth down and pulled it off, dangling it before dropping it to the bench. She repeated it with her left hand, never wavering in her stare. She ran her bare forefinger over her lips. It could not have been more erotic. His body burned.
“I find myself hungry for more,” she said, slowly letting her finger drop and trace the valley of her breasts.
Gaston swallowed the lump of anticipation in his throat, and Sophie smiled slyly as she leaned forward and looked into the basket. The coquette knew what she was doing to him. He looked around at the nearby boats in frustration. He knew what he’d like to do in response to her taunting, but he also knew he must restrain himself. For now.
Sophie pulled out a cake and sat back on the bench, turning slightly to face him. She smiled her satisfied smile and took a bite. “Mmm,” she mumbled as she closed her eyes and threw her head back.
Gaston bit back a groan. Yes, she undoubtedly knew the power she held over him. As if hearing his thoughts, she opened her eyes and held out the cake. He leaned in and whispered a kiss along her inner arm, pausing at her wrist, pleased to feel her rapid pulse as he twirled his tongue on her sweet flesh. He watched her as he took a bite and mimicked her humming. She shifted on the bench, and he hoped her need was as great as his.
“I adore gingerbread cakes,” she said huskily before taking another bite.
“Je t’adore,mon amour,” he said, his voice equally gruff.
Shouting broke out, and the boat roughly veered portside. Gaston righted himself and looked starboard in time to catch a glimpse of the occupants of the other leisure boat, surprised to see the Duke of Salinger among the party. Gaston did not imagine his glare.
The coxswain cursed loudly enough to be heard and called out to the oarsmen. Gaston turned to Sophie, who was twisted in her seat, looking astern, a frown replacing her sensual gaze of moments before.
“Your duke seemed none too pleased to see you with me.”
“He is not my duke.” Her eyes flashed angrily. Whether her anger was directed at him or at the duke, he wasn’t sure.
Gaston took her hand in his. “But he still thinks he is, doesn’t he?”
“His arrogance does not allow him to easily accept rejection.”
“And you did reject him?” Gaston hated the sense of uncertainty creeping in despite her pledge today.
“You have to ask?”
Sophie’s haughty look told him all he needed, and he laughed loudly, the joy of the day back.
“It is not amusing that you question me.” Sophie was indignant. He loved her passionate responses. It would make for marvelous times and, he knew from experience, many arguments. He’d cherish it all as he’d promised to cherish her. He pulled her close, and she slapped at his arm until he tasted her delicious lips. She moaned and allowed him entrance, and he proved to her he was not filled with doubt. He was overflowing with passion. And love.
Chapter Forty-Four
I loved you first when young and fair, but now I love you most.
—Alfred Lord Tennyson, “Happy”
