Fourteen - Conniving Mouth

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A few hours later, William still lay rigid in the bed the same as when he had first got in. A short distance separated him from something his body had begun to burn for, that he had not even know he had wanted.

Something...or Someone. Her.

He wiped a hand over his face, looking up at the heavens for any rationale. None came from the silence of his mind. Madness! That's what it is. He turned his head to the right and watched her silent form. The rise and fall of steady breathing indicated she was asleep. Raising himself up on his elbow, William observed her.

She had rolled onto her back in her slumber and rested peacefully. A pretty picture in the calm of night. Or naked in the tub. He groaned at his lewd mind. Which kept returning him back a few hours past to witness the mesmerising delights of her body once more.

Her dark ebony locks lay in a mess around her head. Having escaped the bun, and framing her face. The unruly wisps of hair matched her fire. She was a vixen, through and through. Of that, he had no doubt. She had worked her way into the hearts of all his household servants, and especially that traitorous Colin! Most days he had spied the servants happily attending to her, only to turn cold on his approach. He had an inkling that the talk between the servants was predominantly taken up with his blatant ignorance to his new wife's existence. Many a time Gerty had, with all the subtlety of a rampaging bull, commented on how she would not tolerate a man to simply use her as a trophy wife; an inanimate object or accessory to his title. Her words had not been lost on him, but he had found little time to consider them greatly for business matters had been his primary concern. Not the Wife he did not want.

What is it about you that enchants all my servants so? Many whom raised me from a child! What is it...

William reached out a hand, tentatively through the air. The sudden need to touch her undeniable. His fingertips brushed aside the stray hair from across her forehead. Tracing down her sharp cheekbones and eventually resting at her chin. His thumb traced her lips. The bounty here sweet and sinful. He savoured the plush warmth beneath his touch and the velvety softness. Only a limited taste had him hooked onto her tether. Needing and wanting for more. He scowled at her peaceful expression. Hating the way his mind reeled at touching the smooth contours of her face. Memorising the layout of her features to build a map in his mind. One he'd no doubt frequent, he thought miserably.

Mia's nose twitched in her sleep as William traced down the sharp bridge with his index fingers. A small smile appeared on his face at the innocent action. He groaned again at himself. Why. Why. Why! No such feeling should attach itself to her! Had he not promised to hate her? Where was that earlier, he wondered. He deduced himself a rather pathetic man. One controlled by his physical needs and primal desires. No better than his hunting hounds during mating season. Mindless beasts consumed by the need to copulate and give in to the instructions of their base biology and loins.

He knew she was playing a game. As to the name of that game, he was unsure. But he'd been around enough vixens in his time to know that her intent was not sound for him. He would come off shredded by her claws that she had begun to sink into him. It was torment. She was using her body as bait for him. He had deduced as much. As if she were out fishing, dangling on a hook right before him, but always just out of reach.

She sighed softly and sweetly in her sleep. The sound elicited unspeakable images and thoughts of bringing forth a different kind of sound from that sweet throat of hers. William gritted his teeth and threw himself back down onto his side of the bed; thinking to himself. How dare she sleep so peacefully while i lay awake in torment. Unable to rest because she plagued him at the ungodly hours of night. Her presence drew him to her like a magnet. He found he rather didn't want to leave her alone. The bloody chit.

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