Page 130 of The Sea Witch
The fear in her eyes faded.
He curved one of his hands around the back of her head. Their gazes held. She didn’t look away or back down. She never did. Even when she was afraid, she met her fear.
“Impossible, extraordinary woman,” he growled. “I’ve wanted to throttle you and bed you in equal measure. For so long, I’ve wanted you. At night, when you’re on the other side of your quarters, I lay awake in my hammock, just... just aching. For you. You’ve laid claim to each part of me, and have ever since I tried to rescue you at the tavern in St. Gertrude.”
“No one owns anyone,” she breathed, “and I don’t need rescuing.”
“And ifIneedyou?”
“For tonight,” she said, bringing her mouth to his, “you have me.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
At first, the kiss was gentle, the soft meeting of her lips to his. Alys wrapped her arms around Ben’s shoulders, holding him tightly as they kissed. She gave him tenderness and he took it.
But then they kissed deeply in rough, drugging tastes. One of his hands splayed just above her arse and the other gripped her hip.
“The chaise,” she said.
He staggered backward to the chaise, still holding her. He sat down heavily and she went with him. She straddled him as the kiss continued.
“Alys.” His voice was a growl. “I want... I need...” Yet he seemed to hold himself back.
“More,” she gasped
“Yes.”
After tugging off her boots, she hooked her hands into the lapels of his coat and pulled it down his shoulders. At the same time, he fumbled for the buttons of her waistcoat and cursed in frustration from the countless fastenings. Why the hell had she worn such an elaborate garment?
“These... damn... buttons,” he snarled.
“Tear them off,” she panted. “Just do it.”
He hesitated for a moment. She took his hands and placed them on her waistcoat.
Ben pulled on the two sides of her vest, and buttons flew in every direction.
“I’ve never done...thatbefore,” he confessed. “Wanted to.”
“You want more,” she urged. When his gaze dropped to her chest, she took his hands and brought them to her breasts.
She moaned as his hands cupped her breasts through the fine lawn fabric of her shirt.
His thumbs stroked back and forth to tease her nipples into aching points.
“Pinch them,” she encouraged.
He did so, lightly, and she arched back with a cry.
She pulled back long enough to strip away her coat and waistcoat. Warm, humid air touched her skin as she whisked off her shirt.
He bent close to her breasts, his mouth hovering over one of her nipples. “Can I?”
“Goddesses, yes.”
She cried out when he took the nipple in his mouth, tonguing it. He gave her other breast the same attention, and she pressed his head against her. His mouth was hot and wonderfully greedy as he lapped at her like a forbidden treat.
“Unfair,” she gasped. “I’m exposed, and you’re as secure as a fortress.”
