Pirate's Pleasure (Sentinels of Savannah)

by Lisa Kessler

  She poked at her ice cream goo, unsure how to answer or what to say. “I guess what I want doesn’t matter.”

  He arched a brow. “That depends on what you want.”

  “It’s not a family, I can tell you that much.” She shook her head, poking at her ice cream again. “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but you told me your secret, so it’s only fair, I guess, right?”

  He didn’t take the bait and talk. Fine.

  “My parents split up when I was a kid, and my dad moved back home to Texas. My mom did her best to support us, but it was tough. We ended up in a studio apartment all sharing one room, and I got in fights defending my little brother when kids teased him about his secondhand sneakers.” She cleared her throat, refusing to allow her voice to crack. “There were nights we went to bed hungry.”

  She broke eye contact, uncomfortable with the weakness smoldering in her stomach. “I made lots of late-night promises to myself that someday I’d be rich and I wouldn’t need anyone. Nobody was ever going to make me feel small or unworthy, and I’d never be worried about money again.”

  She swallowed the emotions and forced herself to finish. “I worked my ass off in high school to get a scholarship to college, and then I majored in finance so I’d understand how to make money and invest it. I haven’t slowed down since. There’s this insatiable hunger inside me, like no matter how much I make, it’ll never be enough.”

  Her unexpected confession left her feeling exposed, like those dreams when you realized you were back in school and forgot to wear pants. The need to change the subject swamped her.

  “Okay, my turn to ask you…I’ve always had you pegged as uptight and maybe more than a little controlling, but I’ve recently discovered there’s this…wild side that I never knew existed. Why do you hide it?”

  His phone buzzed, but before he could reach for it, she grabbed it. “You are not being saved by a text.”

  Her pulse skipped as his lips curved into a crooked grin. “All right. Two hundred years is a long time to never see a change in the mirror, yet the world around me becomes unrecognizable. Technology makes my head spin, but as the boatswain, the crew looks to me to keep us afloat.” He stroked his chin.

  “I might lean too heavily on routines sometimes because it helps me have control over some things. It keeps me sane.” He shrugged. “I didn’t realize how civilized I had become or how much I missed the thrill of privateering until we lost the Grail. Now that I’ve tasted the adventure again, I can’t give it up.” His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. “I’m sure you can relate.”

  “Definitely.” Her toes curled in her shoes. She sipped her drink and slid his phone back over to him. “I found out I enjoyed the rush while I was still in college trying to scrape together money for my brother’s medical expenses. I even sold my sailboat. I worked and saved so hard for that tiny boat. It killed me to sell it, but it was worth it to help Max.” She shook her head, forcing the memories back into the shadows. “What made you become a pirate?”

  His eyes darkened. “I was in the King’s navy.” He stared at the empty cup of ice cream. “Our ship was taken by pirates, and I was given the choice to join the privateers or die for my king.” He lifted his gaze. “I chose to live.”

  She took his hand and squeezed it. “Good choice.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Aye.” He glanced at the message on the phone screen and back to her face. “Agent Bale is done. He’ll meet us on the water tonight.”

  Her heart thumped with anticipation of sailing again. “Let’s grab that box and weigh anchor.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The air settled heavily on John’s shoulders, and the scent of rain filled his lungs as they walked toward his house. Thunder rumbled overhead. He glanced up at the dark clouds, sensing the inevitable as the first drops of rain began to hit the sidewalk.

  They were five blocks from his home when the heavens opened and rain pummeled them. Harmony’s laughter made the unexpected fury of mother nature magical as they splashed through the puddles, racing from one block to the next.

  When they reached Wright Square, he took shelter under one of the huge live oak trees, bringing Harmony with him. She grinned up at him, her wet black hair stuck to her tan skin, and the joy in her eyes took his breath away.

  He cupped her face, surprised to find himself laughing. “My gods, you’re beautiful.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh please, I’m sleep deprived and completely soaked.”

  “I stand by my statement, lass.” He bent to taste her lips, enjoying the way her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, her breasts pressing tight against his chest while the summer rain stormed around them.

  Thunder cracked, matching the pounding of his heart in his ears. This woman drove him to distraction, and he was powerless to resist. The warmth of her mouth, the softness of her body, and the fierceness of her spirit called to a part of his soul he’d never realized existed. She coaxed him into treacherous emotional waters he’d avoided for centuries.

  He broke the kiss and scooped her up into his arms. She laced her fingers behind his neck as he hurried through the storm, carrying her toward his house. Instead of cowering from the rain, she threw her head back, grinning as the drops pelted her face. He didn’t have words to sufficiently describe the reckless abandon and pure bliss in her smile.

  When Chippewa Square came into view, she shouted over the rain, “I can walk.”

  “Aye.” He grinned, glancing her way for a moment before focusing on the wet sidewalk ahead. “But I’ve got longer legs.”

  Her lips brushed his neck, shooting electricity through his veins. “Are you calling me short?”

  He jogged across the square to his front gate and lowered her feet to the ground. He punched the code into the security box and took her hand. “Just wanted to get you back as soon as I could.”

  She dropped his hand and splashed through the puddles on his walkway. “I’m not afraid of being wet.”

  His gaze wandered up from the water squishing through her tennis shoes, to her shapely legs, to her drenched shirt that stuck to her curves like a second skin, and finally to her face. Even soaking wet, she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen.

  “What?” She examined herself and peered his way.

  He cocked his head, getting his hair out of his face. “Wet looks good on you.”

  She caught her lower lip in her teeth, gazing up at him from under her thick, dark lashes. “Looks even better off.”

  The organized part of his brain, the part warning him about collecting the box and meeting the crew soon on the deck of the Sea Dog, didn’t stand a chance against the typhoon of desire this woman inspired in him. He sprinted forward, catching her around the waist and hoisting her over his shoulder like a sack of gunpowder. Her laughter made him grin as she gripped his ass. Jogging up the stairs, he carried her through the front door and kicked it closed behind him before lowering her feet to the floor.

  Her gaze searched his as he tipped her chin up and claimed her lips, moaning when her hands slid underneath his wet shirt. He kissed his way down her neck, caressing the enticing curves of her body. Half of him wanted to explore every inch of her and discover every secret pleasure, while the other half ached to lose himself in her, now.

  She lifted his shirt, and he tugged it free, dropping it on the floor of the hallway. The cool air teased his bare skin as he fed on her lips again, pressing her against the wall. Her leg slid up the outside of his, and he caught her knee, grinding his hips against hers.

  He couldn’t get close enough. Her body was made for his, and the hunger she stoked consumed him, silencing the whispers of warning from the shadows of his old soul. She was beautiful chaos in his well-ordered world.

  As she moaned into his mouth, her fingers made quick work of his pants. The urgency in her touch ignited fire through his veins. He pressed hot kisses along the side of her neck, his teeth grazing her shoulder as his fingers
moved up underneath her shirt. Her cool skin made him ache to warm her. Holding her breasts in his hands, his thumbs toyed with her taut nipples through the soaked fabric of her bra.

  “I need you,” she whispered against his ear as she stroked his erection.

  Desire swamped him as he unfastened her jeans and pushed them down her legs. The wet denim resisted, sticking to her cool skin. He knelt in front of her, sliding her black satin underwear down her tan thighs. Her cool hands gripped his shoulders, and he helped her step out of her wet clothes. He ran his hand up her soft inner thigh, his fingers finding the heat of her core.

  He stared up into her eyes and growled, “I need you, too.”

  He trailed hungry kisses along her leg to the juncture of her thighs, groaning as she gasped and grabbed a handful of his hair. Her moans encouraged his exploration, his tongue finding her sweet spot. He’d never get enough of her.

  Her knees started to buckle, and he cupped her ass, bracing her as he feasted on her, insatiable. She cried out his name, tipping her hips forward as her body trembled, surrendering to her orgasm. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman more.

  In one fluid movement, he stood, bringing one of her legs to his hip. Their gazes locked as she gripped his shoulders and he entered her slowly, savoring every inch as he buried himself in her.

  The heat of her body was a stark contrast to his cool, wet skin, intensifying the pleasure. He bent to taste her lips, grinding his hips, penetrating deeper. He couldn’t get close enough to her, and while he never wanted this to end, the temptation to surrender was too strong.

  She broke the kiss, breathless, and he rested his forehead against hers. Staring into her dark eyes, he suddenly ached to learn all of her secrets. He wanted more than her body, more than just a physical connection. Risky.

  He slid his free hand between them, his fingers rubbing her in time with the urgent pounding of his hips until her eyes drifted closed, her lips parting.

  “Come with me, Harmony,” he growled against her ear.

  His thrusts came harder and faster as her inner muscles clenched tight around him. He erupted deep inside her, holding her close while every muscle in his body tensed. Unsure how long they gasped for air in the hallway, he finally lifted his head.

  She smiled up at him. “That was…” She shook her head, lowering her leg back to the floor. “That was…”

  “Aye.” He nodded, understanding her perfectly.

  He stepped back and pulled his wet pants completely off before bending over to scoop up the pile of their soggy clothes.

  Harmony gasped. “Your back.”

  Aw, fuck. Usually he lied about the scars with a story about a fire, but she already knew his secret. No sense lying now.

  “I served under a flogging captain.”

  A crease marred her brow. “Someone whipped you?” The sultry sparkle in her eyes dimmed as concern stole the fire. “Your entire back is scarred.”

  “Standard practice for some of the captains in the King’s navy.” He shifted the clothes to his other arm, fighting the urge to put his wet shirt back on.

  “Did the pirate captain that took your ship beat you, too?”

  “Aye.” Pained memories gathering dust in the back of his mind rose from the shadows, but he forced them back. “I channeled my rage to help Ian Flynn lead a mutiny. Never been flogged since.”

  She raised a brow. “Shouldn’t those have healed when you took a drink from the Holy Grail?”

  He shrugged. “My scars are a part of me. The cup keeps me whole, and I guess that includes the scars I had before I took a sip. Come…” He took her hand. “We don’t have time for old stories right now. We need to get to the Sea Dog. Dry clothes are the first priority.”

  “There’s a flaw in your plan.” She smiled up at him from under her lashes. “I don’t have any extra clothes here.”

  “You’ll have to wear some of mine, then.”

  She chuckled, shaking her head. “Not sure you’ve noticed, but you’re a little bigger than me.”

  He took a step back, his gaze wandering over her naked curves as he tugged at his chin playfully. “Well you’re damned sure not boarding the Sea Dog dressed like that.”

  “No?” She stared down at her wet bra, and an unfamiliar wave of possessiveness swelled inside of him.

  “Definitely not.” He took her hand, leading her back to his bedroom. While he entered the closet, she sat on the edge of his bed.

  “John?”

  “Yes?” He swiped hangers across, searching for something they might be able to modify to fit her.

  “We were so hot and heavy in the hallway, we forgot to discuss something.”

  He turned around, cocking a brow. “We did?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t remember you putting on a condom.”

  Shit. He was usually so careful. There were rumors amongst the crew that Captain Flynn had fathered a child, leaving the rest of them to assume that the cup granted them immortality, not infertility. That was part of the reason Colton declined to take another sip. The quartermaster wanted children and he didn’t want to outlive them.

  John stopped in front of her. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

  She put her hand up to stop him, then flexed her bicep. “I’m protected. Norplant, but that only covers pregnancy, it doesn’t protect either of us from—anything else.”

  “Oh.” He shook his head as understanding settled onto his shoulders. “I’m clean, and even if you weren’t, I would heal.”

  “The Grail.”

  He nodded and took her hand. “I’m a fool when it comes to you. I don’t forget things like condoms.” He cleared his throat, shaken. “I’ve never been so consumed.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his heart pounding as he struggled for words. He’d never been so careless, so lost in passion. She made him forget everything else. The realization startled him. His grasp on the passage of time relied on his methodical plans. Spontaneity was an unwelcome enemy.

  His phone rang, bringing yet another reminder that he’d lost his mooring in the storm of desire. He’d forgotten his phone inside the pocket of his wet pants. At least his new phone was water resistant.

  He dug it out and answered. “Colton?”

  “Where the fuck are you?” his quartermaster grunted.

  John checked the time on his phone. Damn it. It was almost seven o’clock. He pulled his wet hair back from his forehead. “We got caught in the rainstorm. Be there in a few minutes.”

  Colton’s voice dropped a notch. “Cap’n Flynn is coming with us tonight.”

  John frowned. “Why?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. Get your arse over here and bring the box.”

  The box. Damn it. John ended the call, a tremor running through his hand.

  He’d forgotten all about the box of evils hidden in his floor.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fog rolled in off the river, driving tendrils of mist up through the mast, coaxing the sails to drop. Harmony imagined the large sails begging for the freedom of the wind to catch them, to fill them with the power of the gods. Her heart raced with anticipation. The bustling sounds of the tourists on River Street faded away as she followed John up the gangplank onto the deck of the massive Spanish galleon.

  His shirt strained against the muscles of his biceps and shoulders as he carried the box on board. Earlier tonight, she’d seen the mass of scars hidden underneath his clothes, and the knowledge helped drive the truth home.

  John and his crew were the same men who sailed the original Sea Dog in the 1700s. It was still tough to wrap her brain around it.

  A very tall man approached with a woman with a long auburn ponytail at his side. All his attention was on John. “What kept you, mate?”

  Harmony almost smiled as the memory of sex in John’s hallway filled her head.

  “We had an unexpected intruder with a serpen
t ring in my garage. Agent Bale’s crew came in for clean-up. Since the Serpents were obviously close by, Bale thought our plan to return the relic on open water was the safest option. I had to wait for his men to leave before we moved the box.” He handed the cargo to his tall friend and stepped aside to make introductions. “Harmony, this is our quartermaster, Colton.” To the quartermaster he added, “Our thief is also my best broker at the firm, Harmony Andrews.”

  Colton took her hand, his gaze wandering over her attire. Shit. She’d forgotten she was wearing a pair of John’s jeans, rolled up at the ankles and cinched with a belt, and to complete the ensemble she had on an oversized sweatshirt with sleeves that matched the bottom of the jeans.

  She forced a smile. “John left out the part about getting caught outside in that rainstorm. My clothes are still drying.”

  A knowing smile curved Colton’s lips as he glanced at John, but he didn’t say anything more about it. He turned to the woman beside him. “This is my fiancée, Skye. She’s our ship’s psychic.”

  The auburn-haired woman had stunning violet eyes and a warm grin. She offered her hand with a chuckle. “Great to meet you, Harmony.”

  Colton clapped John’s shoulder. “Let’s get this cargo stowed. If the Captain’s not on board in ten minutes, we’re weighing anchor without him.”

  John turned to Harmony. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time. I’m fine.” His care for her was sweet, but she’d been on her own for years, and sailing was a passion she’d been repressing for far too long. “I’ll make myself useful.”

  He started to smile and nodded before following Colton to the lower decks.

  Harmony enjoyed the view of John’s ass for a moment as he disappeared below the deck with Colton, then turned to Skye. “You and Colton are getting married?”

  Harmony bit back a chuckle when she realized Skye had been watching the exact same thing.

  “We are.” Skye met her gaze. “Nothing big, but we’re trying to work out a time to get the whole crew together so we can have the ceremony at sea.”