Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance (19 page)

Humor, so unusual for him, caught her attention more than his words did. She peered at him over her shoulder.

“I want you, Grace. And if you haven’t changed your mind, I plan on having you. But it won’t be with half our clothes on. We’ll both be naked.”

Her stomach clenched into a fist. “Naked?”

“Completely. And,” he added, the lantern catching the gleam in his eye, “I’ll be the one doing the undressing.”

Her nerves fluttered at the image but, before she could dwell too much on it, he scooped a hand beneath her knees and another around her shoulders and lifted her in his arms. It wasn’t until he was nearly at the stairs leading to the main deck when panic took over.

“What are you doing?”

“We’ll be more comfortable in my cabin. What I have in mind…”

His words trailed away as visions of pawing and groping in a dark room filled her head. The ropes beneath the mattress squeaking faster and faster with the increasing thrusts. The smell of sweat in a confined area…

“I can’t!” Grace struggled in Cale’s arms. “I can’t!”

He stopped, kissed her temple. His beard rubbed over her cheek.

“We don’t have to,” he murmured as he set her down.

Grace took a few deep breaths while shoving aside the horror of Roche’s abuse. He wouldn’t ruin this. He
would not
ruin this.

She wiped her palms down her skirt. “What I mean is, I can’t do this below. There are too many…” She shook her head. “If ’tis to your liking, I’d prefer we do this here.”

His eyes widened. “Here? It’s not private. The crew could come back at any time. I’ll not have them finding us naked.”

His discomfort brought a smile to her lips. He might consider himself a fearsome pirate, but his true nature wouldn’t be contained. Cale was a good man. Any woman who stole his heart should count herself among the luckiest on earth. Her heart squeezed and, for a moment, she wished she were the kind of woman who would be happy locked in marriage. But she’d made herself a promise. She wasn’t going to let anyone control her again.

Giving herself to Cale, however, was harmless. Once in Santo Domingo, they would go their separate ways. There was no commitment here, no bonds to her afterward. Still, she considered herself fortunate to have him tonight. She could have gone the rest of her life with only Roche’s touch in her memory. Thanks to Cale, she’d now have something better.

From the beach, came a butchered version of a salty pirate song. It was loud, if off-key, and most of the lyrics were wrong. She smiled. “Even if they come back, they are far too deep into their rum to be quiet. We’ll hear them coming in plenty of time to make ourselves decent.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure ’tis you I want.”

His teeth shone from between his curved lips. He wrapped her in his arms, kissed her until she was once again breathless. Then he pulled the shirt she wore over her head. His fingers crept under the scoop of the gown’s bodice and the touch was hotter than blue flames. Then, without warning, his hands tugged. The gown slipped off her shoulders, the bodice fell. He lowered her shift and exposed her breasts.

Surprise rendered her speechless. She’d never been uncovered in such a way. Aye, he’d said they’d be naked but this…

Her every thought vanished when he drew a pouting nipple deeply into his mouth.

Blessed Mary, Jesus, and Joseph! Her fingers dug into his scalp. Not to push him away. Heavens, no, not when what he was doing felt so exquisite.

His tongue laved her sensitive nipple, suckled it as though he were a babe. But there was nothing motherly about her reaction to his touch. She felt the pleasure clear to her toes and would gladly let him remain at her breast until they both died from the pleasure. And it was pleasure for him as well; his murmured appreciation; the way he opened and closed his mouth over her was a testament to his that.

Everywhere he touched, heat consumed her. If it wasn’t his mouth, it was his hands. Strong, capable hands that tugged, flexed, and drove her mad. Surely, any minute now, she’d burst into flame. But then, as though sensing she was overheating, he blew on her skin, a cool breeze spinning senses.

Far away, the festivities on the beach reached her ears. They seemed as distant as the stars dotting the dark sky above her. A storm of sensations bombarded her. As fast as she could acknowledge what he was doing—destroying her with his kisses and caresses—he moved again, his mouth on a quest which seemed to have only one goal—to taste her. All of her.

He moved to her neck, eased the braid she’d refashioned earlier aside, and opened his lips against her flesh. It was more, all so much more than she’d imagined when she’d acknowledged her attraction toward him. There was nothing in her experience which prepared her for this. For feeling his every breath against her skin, every slide of his rough palms over her flesh, every beat of his heart against hers.

There were no similarities to what it had been like with Roche. Cale’s loving didn’t resemble Roche’s crude manhandling and fumbling to jam himself within her. No, it was nothing like that, thank Jesus, and she wouldn’t think more on Roche. He had no place here. Not with Cale’s touch healing her soul.

This was what sharing one’s body was supposed to be. She felt beautiful, desired. Cherished. She’d never been drunk in her life yet she thought this must be what it felt like, to have the world blurry around the edges and her legs watery beneath her. To have the taste of something so fine on her tongue she couldn’t resist going back for more.

Gathering two handfuls of the soft cotton of his shirt, she pulled the garment from his trousers and slid her hands underneath. They weren’t anywhere near a fire and yet his skin radiated heat. His back was firm and strong. She left no part of it untouched. Curving around to his belly, she smiled against his mouth when she felt him tremble.

Happy to explore, she skimmed her palms upward. Her thumbs brushed his nipples and she stopped, amazed, when they hardened. She drew back, waited for his eyes to open and meet hers.

“Does it feel the same for you as it does for me?” she asked.

He grazed one of her exposed nipples, stealing her breath once again.

“What does it feel like?”

“Aching, exciting.”

His eyes darkened. “Then it feels the same.”

“I want to see.” She grabbed his shirt but he grasped it from her, yanked it over his head.

Moonlight bathed his chest in soft light and glinted off the pendant he wore around his neck.

“Do you always wear this?” she asked, reaching for the angel hanging from a thin strip of leather.

He grabbed her wrist. With one hand holding her he swung the leather over his shoulder so the pendant hung over his back instead. She raised her eyes to his. He’d been intent before but it paled in comparison to the purpose filling his eyes. ’Twas as though he was determined to block out everything but her.

She’d seen his chest once before but now it was hers to discover. His torso was sprinkled with dark hair and she explored it first, as she’d been curious to know what it felt like. It was much the same as his beard, coarse but not uncomfortable. She found the round discs of his nipples. They needed no more than a fleeting touch to once again pebble beneath her fingers.

Leaning forward, Grace circled her tongue over them. Beneath her mouth, she felt as much as heard his hum of appreciation. The sound encouraged her.

Grace skimmed her lips upward, pressed her mouth into his neck, and moved along his shoulder. Her hands flowed over the firm contours of his back and shoulders, lingering over the warmth of his flesh.

Her fingers bumped down the ridges of his spine until she stopped at the dip in his lower back, a breath above the band of his trousers. His body tensed and Grace bit her lip. Should she? Did women do such things? If she were too bold, would it taint her in his mind? If she weren’t, would he be disappointed? Would she?

The answer came quickly. She’d chosen tonight to make new memories and she would not leave with regrets. Somehow, she knew if she were to stop, she’d always wonder.

Rising to her full height she moved her hands to his shoulders. Cale released a breath and she felt his muscles ease. Smiling, Grace flitted her hands down his back but this time she didn’t stop. She didn’t stop until she’d spread her hands wide and filled them with the taut muscles of his backside.

*

Cale didn’t move.
Not only didn’t he want her to stop—not until his last breath—he also wanted her to feel in control, to know he wasn’t forcing anything upon her. But his chivalry had a price. Lust gnawed at him, filled his head with visions of her, and visions of what he wanted to do to her, with her. His hands twitched to reach and touch, to taste her mouth, to lift those breasts and bury his face within their lush valley. To slide into her and feel her body acquiesce.

Sweat dampened the hair on his forehead. Cale hadn’t caught his breath since she’d told him she wanted him. He’d been hard and eager ever since, pulsing with a need that had him grinding his teeth to keep under control.

The need ignited when she circled around, pressed herself fully against his back, when he felt those luscious breasts on his skin. Her hands snuck around his waist, traveled over his skipping heart, up to his dry throat, then slid straight down. Down his chest, over his navel. And lower still.

“Yes.” He hissed.

She fumbled, touching him with one hand, then two, as though she couldn’t decide which way was best. Either was fine, so long as she kept her hands on him.

Her fingertips grazed him, teased until he couldn’t bear the torment. Placing his hand over hers, he increased the pressure, wrapped both their hands over his engorged cock and showed her how to stroke him. His trousers were a barrier, but they wouldn’t be for long. His body could only take so much torment.

When she had the rhythm he released her, letting her caress him. His eyes closed. She wrapped her hand tighter. It wasn’t until his hips started to thrust that he grabbed her hand and turned to face her.

“Did I—”

He kissed her fingers. “It was perfect, but a man can only take so much. I don’t want to make love to your hand. I want to make love to you.”

Her gaze fell to his erection, which poked sturdily at his trousers. “It—you—” She swallowed. “I thought a man needed to be inside a woman.”

Lord, how had he managed, at this stage of his life, to find a woman so innocent? He caught her chin and raised her gaze to his. “There are many ways to seek pleasure, Grace. Many bold and wonderful ways.”

“Show me.”

He’d given her time to be sure and he’d give her more yet before he was inside her, but those two words were more powerful than an armada of ships with its guns aimed straight at him. Here, now, he was surrendering. To her, to him, to whoever had brought her into his life. He was through fighting.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go below? It would be more…comfortable.”

“I want it to be here, with the stars as our ceiling and the breeze as our music.”

“I forgot the Irish are a fanciful lot. Don’t you believe in faeries?”

Grace smiled. “Don’t you?”

“At this moment? I’ll believe almost anything.” Then, taking his discarded shirt, he spread it on the deck. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had nearby. He blew out the lantern, then, holding out his hand, he said, “Lie with me, Grace.”

Her touch was warm in his, warm and solid. As was the look in her eye when he laid her down onto his shirt. Her braid spread out to her side and he wished he’d have thought to untie it, to unwind the rope of her hair so it could spread like an onyx veil behind her. Next time, he thought, as his gaze spilled over the woman lying before him.

He helped her shed her gown until she lay before him in only her shift with the neckline of it still gathered beneath her breasts. Aroused nipples jutted forward, all but begging to be suckled. She’d asked him to show her and show her he would.

Settling in beside her, Cale pulled her close, leaned in and kissed her. Her mouth met his, but Grace clearly wasn’t interested in gentle, easy kisses any longer. Her tongue slipped inside his mouth, slick and wet, and all he could think was he wanted more than her mouth to be slick and wet.

Sliding his hand from her waist, he cupped a plump breast in his palm, kneaded it with his fingers. Dipping his head, he made a slow, long pass of his tongue over her nipple. Her back arched. Opening his lips, he sucked the pebbled tip into his mouth, rolled it over his tongue while his other hand moved between them to tease her other breast.

With one nipple glistening in the moonlight, he nudged the other with his nose. He flicked his tongue, wet swipes that drew fevered murmurs from her lips. Neither of their hands was still. His were on her exposed flesh, pressing, squeezing while hers scraped through his hair, across his shoulders. He delicately closed his teeth around a sensitized peak.

“Cale!”

He would have thought he’d hurt her if she hadn’t arched her back further, pressing her breast more firmly against his mouth. Heat raged through his blood, roaring as though fuel were added to a fire. It engulfed him, poured through his very soul.