Page 16 of The Pirate's Stolen Bride
Rémy didn’t recall followinga strumpet to bed, but this wouldn’t be the first time he’d awoken with a woman curled against his side—but it was the first time it didn’t send him rolling to the floor, pulling on his clothes, and running away.
Instead, he draped one arm over her waist and tucked her in closer. She barely stirred. This was very nice. Why hadn’t he ever allowed himself the luxury of sleeping with a woman before?
Right. They were usually married, to other men.
Vaguely, in the back of his mind, a sense of self-preservation told him to get up and move. He couldn’t remember why. There was a pursuer out there somewhere, but with the rain pattering against the windowpane, it hardly seemed likely they’d be discovered.
This woman was safe. What a deliciously novel sensation.
His cock twitched with interest.
She was soft and warm and smelled faintly of violets. There was an innocent undertone to her. He couldn’t quite have described it in any language, other than it reminded him of a cool breeze off the ocean on a sunny afternoon, carrying a tang of salt and stirring his senses. Calling to him.
Without thinking, he rolled the woman to her back and pressed a kiss to her lips. She made an odd motion, jerking away before settling back with a sigh, as if she wasn’t quite awake yet and barely registered what was happening. That made two of them.
His cock lengthened and thickened. That part of him was not waiting for full consciousness before pressing the advantage, and dragging the rest of him along with it. The lady was in his bed, after all, which meant she had welcomed this attention before…
When he kissed her a second time, she responded with a shuddery sigh and tangled her slender fingers in his hair. That was more like it. He rocked his hips forward, letting her feel precisely what he wanted, and trailed lazy kisses down the column of her throat. He slid his palm up her ribs to find the globe of her breast and squeezed lightly.
Nice tits, whoever she was.
She made a sound, which he interpreted as a wordless plea. It certainly wasn’t a protest. The woman arched into his touch when he pinched her peaked nipple through the thin fabric of her night rail. Each breathless gasp pulled him as taut as a rigging line.
He yanked the ribbon at her chest free and shoved the cambric aside to get to her breast. The low moan that gusted out of her was pure, sweet heaven. His cock kicked against the prison of his trousers.
Why had he slept in his clothes?
A warning alarm went off in the back of his skull. But her grip on his hair tightened, and he shut it out, too desperate for the taste of her skin. He worked his hand under the hem of her nightdress and up to her hip, intent upon giving this responsive and needy woman everything she demanded—until a sudden pounding at the door made her freeze.
With some reluctance, he released the nipple he was sucking on with an audible pop.
“Get off me,” she seethed. “We’re caught! They cannot see me like this.”
With surprising strength, she pushed him away. Rémy missed the edge of the bed and went sprawling onto the floor—not cock-first, fortunately, but he cupped his genitals protectively in case and managed to land painfully on his shoulder instead.
“Mr. and Mrs. Davies, there is a gentleman here to see you.”
The lady’s eyes flew wide. Harriet. That was her name. Rémy suddenly remembered everything. She might taste like heaven and feel like sin, but she was an innocent—and they were in a great deal of trouble.
CHAPTER NINE
DEFENESTRATION WITHOUT PENETRATION
“What are we going to do?” Harriet demanded. One minute she’d been blissfully experiencing her wildest dreams, and the next, she was fighting him off with the panicked desperation of a madwoman.
Uncle Monty couldnotsee her like this. In bed with a man not her husband. It didn’t matter that she’d been kidnapped. He would be beyond disappointed.
He would get that look on his face that said,You’ve let me down. I trusted you, and you betrayed me. You broke my rules.
What was she doing? Just because she’d decided the pirate wasn’t so bad after all, didn’t give her license to…
She couldn’t even think the word without blushing.
“Get dressed. I will go out the window. You can return to the bosom of your family with my apologies. No one ever needs to know what occurred between us.”
“Nothing occurred,” she huffed, half-complaint, half relief. Harriet had never felt so mixed up.
“Exactement, chérie. Nothing happened.” Was that a sour note in his tone or was she imagining it?
