Page 66 of The Pirate Lord
He drew her head close until his lips were an inch from hers, his breath fanning across her trembling mouth. “Everybody can be corrupted. Even you.”
Then his mouth was on hers, hard, purposeful . . . and yes, corrupt. His evening whiskers scraped her skin as he took her mouth wholly, thoroughly, the way a man bent on corruption ought to. She tried to gather her scattered wits, to marshal them to fight him, but it was hopeless. His mouth seduced hers to open, then his tongue swept inside with slow strokes that blanked out every thought in her head.
It was a wicked kiss, the kind calculated to make her respond wickedly. And she did. She slid her arms about his neck and returned his kiss with shameful eagerness, barely conscious of straining against his half-naked body as she rushed madly toward her own damnation.
Soon his hands were roaming her body, skimming lightly over her thinly clad ribs until they came to rest just beneath her breasts. His tongue drove inside her mouth over and over, playing with her tongue as he brought his thumbs up to caress her nipples through her dimity gown.
With a groan, she tightened her arms about his neck. At once, his kiss shifted, growing fierce and needy. He dropped his hand to cup her derriere and urge her body nearer.
A noise came from one of the hatches, and they sprang apart, both panting like two race horses in the final stretch. She glanced around, the color rising immediately in her cheeks. Thankfully, there was no one there.
When she looked at him, he was staring at her as a wolf stares at a rabbit. “Come to my cabin. Now. Stay with me the rest of the night.”
She stared at him, at first uncomprehending, her mind so befuddled by his kisses that she scarcely knew where she was. As his words sank in, however, she opened her mouth to protest. Then she saw the look on his face. It betrayed a need beyond mere lust. It belied all his insistence that he was immune to reforming. He wanted her, yes, but he needed her, too, though he didn’t know it yet.
At her hesitation, he went still, his lips tightening into a thin line. “No, I don’t suppose the proper Lady Sara would do that.”
There was so much wounded pride, so much anger in his voice that when he released her and started to turn away, she blurted out, “You’re wrong.”
He faced her once more, his eyes searching his face.
Under his scrutiny, she thought better of her words. “I-I mean?—”
“I won’t let you take back the words. Not tonight.”
He gave her no chance to protest or complain or even answer. He swept her up in his arms, the moonlight catching the intent slant to his mouth, the hungry look in his eyes. While she was still gaping at him, her heart beating wildly in her chest, he carried her across the deck and through the doorway beneath the quarterdeck.
Seconds later, when she saw the half-open door to his cabin loom up before them, she blushed furiously. Good heavens, what was she doing? Had she completely lost her wits? She was letting a pirate carry her to his bed!
Oh, yes, a pirate . . . who kissed like a god, who made her feel things she’d never felt in her life. She wasn’t mad; she was just tired of fighting, tired of craving his hands on her and having to resist her desires.
He kicked the door open and carried her inside, then kicked the door shut behind them. The latch fell into place with an ominous clunk. Shyly she glanced around the cabin she’d entered only twice before. The flame burning in the lamp by his bed flickered briefly, then glowed strong, swinging back and forth with the ship’s motion to sweep golden light across the scarlet coverlet and inky pillows . . . the same scarlet coverlet that hundreds of women had probably graced.
Her heart pounded faster. She shouldn’t be here, not with him. She couldn’t be one of those women.
Or could she? She glanced up at his face, searching for some indication that this meant more to him than yet another conquest. But once his eyes locked with hers, even that possibility ceased to matter. She was lost in his need, the same need that mirrored her own.
Keeping his heated gaze on her, he lowered her to stand before him, so close to his bed that she grazed it with her knee when she steadied her balance on the shifting floor. “Turn around,” he said thickly.
She didn’t know why, but she obeyed his command. When his hands unfastened her bodice, a shudder of anticipation swept her. He undressed her like a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Her white gown dropped to the floor, leaving her in her cambric shift.
It was only when he drew her shift off her shoulders and down to bare her breasts that she knew a moment’s panic. Though he’d bared her breasts before, he’d never done it quite so blatantly. And certainly never in such compromising surroundings. It made their union seem somehow . . . inevitable.
When he began to slide her shift past her hips, she caught his wrists with both her hands. “Gideon, please . . . I mean, I’ve never . . . that is, I’m . . . I’m?—”
“—a virgin.” He turned her around to face him, his expression so earnest that her heart began to trip faster. “Don’t you think I know that? No woman has ever fought so hard to preserve her virtue. But there’s no need to fight.”
He skimmed a hand up her body to mold her naked breast, teasing the nipple until she sighed. “You’re as ready for this as I am, sweetheart. And if you don’t believe me now, you’ll believe me shortly. I promise you’ll never regret the loss of your virtue.”
Though she suspected he was right, she colored a deep scarlet when he slid her shift the rest of the way off, leaving her naked.
He cast her a long, seductive look, lingering on her breasts, her belly . . . the thatch of hair between her legs. She couldn’t believe she was suffering his gaze, even welcoming it. But then, if anybody had told her a month ago she’d be standing next to a pirate captain’s bed, craving his touch like a dockside tart, she’d have mocked them.
A woman of character would hide herself. But she was sorely tired of being a woman of character. No man had ever looked at her like this, and though it embarrassed her, she also felt a certain feminine pride in his admiring gaze.
Under that look, her breathing grew as labored as his. That is, until he stroked one finger from the underside of her breast down her belly to her thighs. Then she stopped breathing completely.
“You have a body made for corrupting,” he said in a harsh whisper. “And I intend to corrupt it thoroughly tonight.”
