Snowflakes and Scandals

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

He kissed her again, and this time she was ready. She touched her tongue along his lips, searching for words to describe his essence. She knew about the caramel and cinnamon from the previous kiss. But she didn’t want to taste the port. She wanted to taste him .

He let her, opening his mouth, drawing her closer to him. She took a light breath. Then, there it was. Chocolate, yes, but raw. Not sweet. Like coffee with no sugar. Beneath that, cream, fresh, uncultured but bursting with flavor. She sighed, and caught one final flavor: a hint of salt. It was enough to make her lick her lips and want another kiss. Salt was simple but essential, finishing even sweet dishes perfectly.

Noel pulled back from the kiss, taking an unsteady breath, clearly thrown. “You’ve had your sample. And your verdict?”

She told him all the tastes he contained. It was delightful to watch him listen to her words, just as it was a delight to watch someone taste one of her confections for the first time. Wonder and surprise and…respect. She took a breath. Yes, that’s why she liked doing what she did. She was an artist and she wanted people to respect her creations.

He hadn’t let her go, though he’d slipped his hands down to her waist, resting comfortably there as if they’d been lovers for years. If anyone walked in now, the result would be scandal. She should tell him so.

She would, eventually. After a few more kisses.

Then his grip tightened slightly, and he lifted her onto the table, sending some of the holiday greenery flying.

“Noel, what are you thinking? Your whole household…”

“Is enjoying their day off, starting a bit early. I told everyone that they need not return to work until after Christmas Day.”

“You planned this!”

He grinned, unrepentant about it. “Of course. You don’t think I seduce women on a whim, do you?” There was a crystal bowl of honey on the table, intended to be used for tea or coffee after the meal. He dipped his finger into the honey and then laid it on her lower lip. Bea licked it off, watching his eyes flare in anticipation.

It was not difficult for him to slide her sleeves off her shoulders, and to then push it lower to reveal the chemise and stays underneath. He inhaled, taking her in.

“Loosen your stays,” he ordered.

“If I do that, I will…be uncontained.” For any generously endowed woman, struggling with stays was a daily battle. Fashions of the day favored slender, slight ladies who hardly needed any support at all. Without the nominal restriction of the stays, Beatrice would spill out over the top of her chemise.

“Then uncontain yourself, gorgeous. And get on the table. Because I want to slather this honey all over you and then lick it off.”

Heat pooled in her belly, and she knew she’d be wet between her legs.

“You want me on the table?”

“The oak came from a warship,” he told her carelessly. “It’s withstood cannon fire and hurricanes. It can certainly take a little rough lovemaking.”

“How rough?”

“However rough you like it, Bea.”

Well.

She did her best to loosen the long cords and ties, which suddenly seemed determined to stay tied. Noel evidently enjoyed just watching. Finally, she dropped the stays to the table. Her breasts immediately overtook the more fragile fabric of her chemise, the last layer between his eyes and her skin. She held her arms up to keep some of her body hidden.

He gently pulled her arms away.

Her nipples pressed against the fine lawn, and the curves of each breast so prominent it left nothing to his imagination.

“I told you,” she said. “There’s too much of me.”

“Lies,” he said, surveying her with such hunger that she couldn’t say any more. “You are endlessly beautiful, Bea. I want to paint you. I want to worship you.” Then he gave her a wicked smile. “But at the moment I’ll settle for tasting you.”

He picked up a paintbrush that he must have planted earlier, and smiled at her. He dipped the brush in the bowl, then painted the thick honey onto her skin, obviously enjoying the way she gasped when he brushed the sensitive circle around her nipples. He teased her, flicking the brush until she was almost painfully aroused, her skin pink and flushed.

Bea moaned, overtaken by the intense pleasure of his touch. He licked her breasts clean, and then put more glaze on, eager for a second course. Again, he concentrated on her nipples, suckling slowly while he wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her tightly to him.

Pressure built in her core, and she began to lift her hips to ride against his thigh.

“Mmm, you want more.” He sounded very pleased, and his voice fell like honey in her ears. “Spread your legs, sweet Bea, and let me have dessert. I’ve been dreaming of tasting you there.”

“I…I can’t.”

“Why not? You deserve to be enjoyed fully. Or are you worried I’ve run out of honey?”

She bit her lip, stifling a laugh at his ridiculous innuendo. “You’re joking.”

“About the honey, yes. Trust me, there’s plenty. Christ, Beatrice, let me eat you that way.”

“You want to? Truly?”

“Just the idea of doing it makes my cock ache,” he told her in a tone that made her ache too.

She finally nodded, letting her legs open a bit.

Noel looked exultant. “Close your eyes.” He kept kissing her as he nudged her knees further apart, eager, open-mouthed kisses that left her wanting more.

Then she felt the brush sweep across her sex and inhaled sharply. “ Oh. ”

“You like that too, do you, sweet Bea? I’ll remember that.” He knelt between her open thighs. “Lean back a little, darling.”

How could she still be surprised at this point? But he still caught her off guard, his tongue slipping lightly in and out along glazed folds, savoring her without devouring her. Yet.

Bea’s core hummed with excitement, her nerves practically dancing in time with Noel’s tongue. She’d rarely felt so pleased to be in her own body. The pulse of deep pleasure he was stirring up in her was better, sweeter, hotter…

Without warning, Bea cried out, bliss spreading out all through her. She blinked, coming out of the haze he’d tossed her into. “I…I came.”

“You sounded so beautiful when you did,” he told her, then kissed her mouth, drawing it out. He tasted like honey. “I can’t wait to hear it again.”

“Noel…I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“You are more than ready. And I am so hard it hurts.” He guided her hand to the bulge of his erection. Bea grasped at the buttons of his falls, freeing his stand.

He was magnificently hard. And big enough to make her hungry for more.

“Take off what you’re wearing,” she told him, passion making her voice raw. “I want to see all of you when you take me.”

He was very good at obeying orders, to judge by how fast he shed his clothing. He grinned. “I’ve put on weight, thanks to you. Can you tell?”

She could tell he was sinfully gorgeous, if still a bit wiry, the muscles taut under his skin, which was dusted over with curled hairs she immediately wanted to stroke and pet.

“Please,” she said in invitation, opening her hands to bring him closer.

He moved to her once more, his shaft pressing against her inner thigh. “You ready for me, Bea?”

She nodded.

He entered her swiftly, filling her so she gasped at the suddenness, at the pressure and the primal need. This was exactly what she wanted—to be fully taken by this man.

“Noel,” she whimpered, wrapping one leg around his hip. “Give me everything.”

He took her order to heart, moving in tune with her needs until Bea could barely stand the pleasure.

Bea twined her fingers in his hair. “Noel, I’m close,” she told him, urgency and desire making her voice tight. “I’m so close.”

“Then come for me,” he ordered. “I want to feel you come before I have to leave you.”

She rocked her hips in a demanding rhythm, and moments later crashed against him as she gave herself up to the beautiful ending that left her shaking in his arms.

He pulled out with a groan, and pressed his shaft against her belly, spilling seed between them, still thrusting on instinct as he murmured her name: Bea, Bea, Bea. And finally she heard Be, be, be.

She held him to her, needing the closeness more than anything else, even more than the intense pleasure pulsing through her. She sighed as she felt his lips on her neck.

Then he nibbled her ear, and whispered, “I will never have enough of you.”

“Next time I’ll make chocolate sauce,” she whispered back. “ With sugar.”

He gave a low laugh. “Temptress. I can’t wait to taste you like that.”

“Oh, the sauce will be for you,” she corrected, lust making her more direct than ever. “I’m going to drizzle it on hot and lick it off.”

“When?” he asked, then kissed her deeply. “I’m ready when you are.”

“So I’ve learned.”

He raised one hand to touch her cheek with his finger. “My beautiful Bea.”

“I’m not beautiful.”

“No? Too ordinary a word for you. Gorgeous, then. Or captivating. Or delicious.”

She looked away, shy again. “Don’t tease me.”

“You think I’m teasing? I saw you and wanted to paint in colors again for the first time in years. I need you.”

“Need me for what?” she asked. The old, wary feelings rushed back. Maybe it wasn’t respect she saw at all. Maybe it was acquisitiveness, the desire to own and consume.

“No,” Noel said, stopping her thoughts. “I can see you putting up those walls you’re so good at building. Don’t shut me out, Beatrice. Not now.”

“What’s so special about now?”

“You’re asking that after what just happened?”

“What happened? Men and women indulge their desires all the time.”

“Was that all this was? Raw desire?” He looked wounded. “You think I’d see you every damn day, paint for you every day, dream about you every day just because I want to fuck your admittedly luscious body? Is that why you kept cooking for me? Just keeping me around until I caved in to my lust?”

“No, of course not! I’ve never cooked for anyone like that, new dishes every day, new flavors, new ideas. I wanted to feed you. I wanted you to remember me, and return to me.” She choked out the last few words, not fully realizing the truth until she spoke them. “You saw me . I don’t know how. But once you did, I couldn’t stand to be unseen by you again. It would have crushed me.”

“Sweet Bea.” He kissed her softly. “You can’t be crushed. You’re far stronger than I am. But you’re also much softer than you pretend to the world. I promise I won’t tell anyone, though.”

“You’d better not,” she warned. “Lord, how am I going to get home tonight? My chemise is in tatters, my stays are sticky with honey, and my gown is on the floor.”

“I was very much hoping you’d stay the night,” he said, almost shyly. “That is, I was actually hoping that you’d be so satisfied by my wild lovemaking that you simply couldn’t stay awake?—”

She tried not to laugh but failed.

“—but I’ll settle for you simply wanting to avoid the roads at night. As a favor to me. I hate the idea of you riding back to the city in the cold.”

So did she, now that she contemplated the reality of that lonely journey, with a dark room and empty bed at the end.

“What will people say? I have to open the shop tomorrow.”

“No, you don’t. It’s Christmas tomorrow!”

“Oh.” Astonishingly, Bea had forgotten that little detail. “Your wild lovemaking drove the fact from my mind.”

He smiled. “Excellent. Stay with me, Bea. I have a lot of spare bedrooms, if you don’t want to stay in mine.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “What if I do want to stay in yours?”

Noel kissed her, then lifted her off the table, setting her on her feet. “I’ll show you, and you can decide.”

An hour later, Beatrice had decided it was a very fine bed—large, luxurious, warm, complete with an eager man—and she lay satisfied and sleepy in Noel’s arms.

“I forgive you for the cake, Bea. You gave me the perfect gift.”

“’Tis the season, I suppose.”

“I have a gift for you too.”

“Did you not just give me a gift?” she asked. “More than once, really.”

He kissed her soundly. “That was for me as well. No, this is something I’ve wanted to give you for a while.”

“A painting?” she guessed.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“You must promise not to laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?”

“Because I’ve never given this before, and I am afraid that I’ve no idea how to do so without sounding like an idiot.”

“Well, now you must tell me,” Bea said, intrigued.

He paused, locking his gaze with hers, his expression nervous. “My heart. I love you, Bea.”

Bea’s own heart leapt in her chest. “Noel.”

“Too like a bad play, isn’t it? If I were better at this, I’d have written a poem or something in French.”

“I don’t want poetry. But do you mean it?”

“Yes. I love you,” he said. “I fell in love with you bite by bite. And I worry my love won’t be enough. You’re so driven to perfection, but who are you doing it for? I want you to be happier, darling. I want you to do what you do because you love it, not because you need to.”

“I’m quite content…” she said before stopping. No, she wasn’t. She’d built something, true, but at the cost of her own joy. She was tired, and afraid the dream would end, leaving her with nothing. She said, “I’m not sure what you want from me.”

“I want you to be with me. Eventually, I want you to marry me, sweet Bea,” he said. “I want to see you every day. I’ve been alone. So have you. It might suit some people, but not us.”

“You barely know me,” she protested. “I barely know you.”

“Details,” he said. “We know how we taste to each other. What else matters?”

“Lust is not enough for a marriage.”

“It’s more than that. You’ve been disappointed by others,” Noel said. “I know I have to earn your trust. I’m happy to extend our courtship as long as you’d like. We’ll get to know each other, dinner after dinner. Polite conversation and childhood stories and little secrets spilling out bit by bit until we realize what we both already know. We’re perfect for each other.”

“You have a lot of confidence for a man who met me hardly more than six weeks ago.”

He traced her cheek and ran his finger down her neck. “And that confidence won’t waver. Every time I see you, I’ll ask you to marry me. And you’ll say yes soon enough. Then we’ll be together like we should be. You’ll dream up whatever tastes come to you, and I’ll paint you like I’ve been dreaming of doing, and there won’t be any more excuses.”

“Perhaps,” she said, though her heart agreed with every word. “To be candid, I may be falling in love with you as well. Just a bit.”

“I can work with that,” he said, kissing her nose.

“But first, I want to know what flavor you want me to use for my next challenge.”

“I haven’t given you enough?” he asked.

“Never,” she promised.

“Well, then, let’s discuss the possibilities.”

Beatrice had never had a longer, lovelier night, and when dawn came on Christmas morning, it fell sweetly on her face and his.