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“Bra.” It was a command. But Tia wasn’t about to be bossed around. Instead, she put a hand on his chest, pushed him backwards gently. So gently that it was his choice to step away, which he did. Then, she turned, deliberately pulled her plait over her shoulder.

“Participate,” she commanded.

She held her breath, only letting it out when a few seconds later his fingers collided with her skin and he was undoing the clasp, so slowly she knew he was taunting her, tormenting her with the release of her breasts from the tight fabric, his fingers inching higher to the straps, sliding them down her arms, gliding over her skin and then adding the bra to her shirt on the floor. She sucked in a breath when his hands returned, cupping her breasts from behind, mouth pressing to the curve of her neck, kissing her in a place that was unbearably sensitive.

She pressed her palm to the wall for support and cried out, “Oh, God.”

“Pants,” he instructed. “I’d help, but I like my hands where they are.”

“I do too,” she mumbled, pushing impatiently at her pants—too much elastane and yet they fitted like a glove so she cried out with frustration with the effort and then with euphoria when she was finally free.

“This I can help with,” he said, kissing her again on the side of her neck, one hand shamelessly teasing her breasts, the other creeping lower, over her stomach and then, into the waistband of her thong, then, over her sex. She cried out as his fingers brushed over her sensitive cluster of nerves, as he moved them harder, faster, until she was pushing her ass backwards, seeking him out and he was plucking at her nipples, first one, then the other, in the same frantic rhythm as his touch. His arousal dug into the groove of her bottom and still he brushed her sex until she was crying out, uncaring for who heard, pleasure tearing through her like a tornado.

“Perfection,” he said under his breath. “You are perfection.”

And then she was coming, hard against his hands, her muscles clenching, her body rejoicing at his touch. She could hardly draw breath and then he was lifting her easily, cradling her to his chest as he carried her to the armchair and sat her in it.

“You’re not naked yet,” he reminded her, kneeling as he removed her lace underwear, his eyes on hers probing, as if to see that she was okay.

“Is that better?” she asked, fully undressed now, and uncaring, even when he was at eye level with her most intimate parts.

“Not yet.” He touched her sex again, eyes dropping, marvelling at her body, and then, his hands hooked behind her knees and pulled her forward slightly, he bent his head, and moved his mouth over her, his tongue flicking where his fingers had just been, stoking the fires of heat in her body until she couldn’t do anything but moan and cry his name out, over and over, waves of satisfaction unlike anything she’d ever, ever experienced.

Chapter Thirteen

IT WAS ALMOST TWO hours later when a knock sounded at the door to Hamish’s suite and Tia’s breath hitched on a wave of remembered satisfaction, and the hope that it would be him. Only, why would he knock on the door to his own room? And even if he did so out of courtesy—so Hamish—why would he still be out there?

Another knock.

She glanced down at herself, half-fearing she might still be naked. God knew it had taken her long enough after his departure to pull herself together and get dressed. She’d just sat there, staring at the wall, wondering what the hell had just happened?

Sure, tension had been simmering between them since that first meeting but this had been something else. Something superhuman. Out of this world.

Another knock. She stood quickly, swept across the room and pulled it inwards. Benson was on the other side.

“Ma’am,” he said, smiling.

“God, I’m definitely not a ma’am,” she said with a laugh. “What can I do for you?”

“Lady Ashcombe has organised for lunch to be served in the gardens near the pool. She said something about a swim cooling down tempers?”

Tia arched a brow sardonically. “Do you think that’s likely to work?”

“Oh, definitely not, but the pool is quite lovely.”

“Yes, I saw it already.” She furrowed her brow. “Erm, is Hamish coming back here?”

“He’s been taken to the stables by the Earl.” Benson’s expression showed an apology. “He asked if you’re happy for me to take you to the pool?”

“To babysit me?”

“I got the feeling it was more about babysitting everyone else so they don’t bother you.”

She smothered a smile. “Acerbic observation.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“Oh, no, I like it.” She looked around the room. “I really don’t need help though.”