by Kimberly Nee
“Rafe?”
He didn’t turn, but the candles on the mantelpiece offered enough light for her to see his knuckles were white from the force with which he gripped the fine marble. His shoulders were stiff, tension cording its way all down his broad back.
He was not happy to see her.
“What is it?”
“I need to leave for New York in the morning.”
“The missive?”
If he was surprised she knew, he didn’t show it. He nodded and slowly turned toward her. If she’d thought his back was tense, it was nothing compared to the tightness in his jaw. His entire body looked brittle and hard, as if a sudden movement might shatter him into a million shards. It had to be more than a problem in New York. Business problems cropped up all the time. She tilted her head to the left. “What is it?”
“I spoke to Sally.”
The pit of her belly whooshed away as if blown by a frigid wind. Her mouth felt sticky and dry at the same time, and she had to work her tongue from the roof of her mouth to ask, “What did you say?”
“I told her I had no wish to marry, that we just aren’t suited for one another.” He glanced up at her, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “She asked me if there was another woman.”
Who knew a frigid wind could grow still colder? Any last bit of warmth inside her, be it from the crackling fire or her own heated desire for the man standing before her, died. She stared hard at him, even when he couldn’t meet her gaze. “What did you tell her?”
“I never got to answer her. That was when my father came into the library to tell me about the missive.”
It was selfish, but Katie couldn’t deny her relief.
The air in the room seemed almost too thick to breathe, but she managed to whisper, “And what else did she say?”
“She was upset, but took it well. I asked her not to say anything until I had a chance to speak with the Earl. She wasn’t happy, but she agreed.”
“How unhappy is she?” Katie could imagine Lady Sally struggling valiantly to hold back her tears. She could just picture the lady throwing herself across her bed and burying her face in her pillows as she broke down in sobs. How on earth was Katie going to face her come morning? Or over the next few days? And what if her Ladyship asked her for advice? What would she say to that?
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I didn’t have the chance. She nodded and excused herself.”
Of course he didn’t know. Unless Lady Sally had fallen to the floor, wrapped herself about his knees and screamed the roof down, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. Still, the air was a little clearer now and hints of that warmth crept back.
She frowned. Shouldn’t she feel more guilty? Did it make her a terrible person that she didn’t?
No. It didn’t. The heart wouldn’t be ruled by something as rational as the mind. One couldn’t control their feelings, could they? Hadn’t she already tried to do just that?
She pushed the uncomfortable thoughts from her mind as she stepped up to touch his shoulder. His upper arm tensed, the muscles like steel beneath his skin. When she gently squeezed, there was very little give to his flesh. “So, you’re leaving in the morning?”
He drew a deep breath and nodded. “First light of dawn. The Octavius went down in a storm, taking most of her crew and a hold full of rum with her. I’ll have to contact the families…” Sorrow flashed across his face. “I’ll be replacing the rum with the stores on board the Eastwind. Which means I’ll then be making a trip to Puerto Rico to replace the cargo. And that means a rise in prices and a loss in profits. Just what Sebastiano didn’t need.”
“It sounds as if you’ll have enough on your plate.” Katie glanced at the clock behind him. She didn’t want to say the words, but she’d been selfish enough. “I suppose you’d rather get to bed early, then.”
It was a calculated risk, rewarded by his slow smile as the tension eased in his shoulders. “Not necessarily. I can always sleep on board. One of the benefits of being captain.”
Her breath caught somewhere between her chest and the top of her throat. His smile promised sin and pleasure, and his gaze raked lazily over her, beginning at her head and working its way down. It was almost a caress itself. She felt it stroke over her skin, leaving a trail of tingling pleasure in its wake.
Rafe was the only man who could make her shiver just by looking at her. He closed the space between them and caught her face in his hands. His palms were rough, but she didn’t care as he tilted her face to his. For the first time in nearly a year, her sense of loneliness eased. Words fled from her lips and her mind, and all she wanted was to lose herself in his smoky gaze for a few minutes more.
His thumbs grazed her cheeks with gentle strokes. She wanted to close her eyes, but didn’t want to miss a moment of being with him. Wrong or right, she didn’t care. This was the moment she’d dreamed about for so many months. For what felt like half of her life.
“This is far better than being beneath a dirty sheet of canvas,” he murmured. He glanced up, over her head, and smiled as he released her and stepped around her. Puzzled, she turned, watching him cross to the door to turn the key in the lock. He slid it free to toss it aside. It clattered to a rest on the small table just inside the door, and Rafe closed the gap between them again. “I’m taking no chances with anything spoiling this. Not now.”
“Rafe, I—”
He bent toward her, and her eyelids drooped as his lips skimmed along the side of her neck. He nipped gently at her earlobe. “You haunt my thoughts, Katie. Day and night.”
“Rafe…” Pleasure trickled through her with each touch of his lips. He should only know how he lingered in her mind. Spirits couldn’t haunt her more than he did. She’d tried so hard to hate him, but it was impossible. She could be angry with him. She could want to hit him over the head with something. But she could never hate him.
Especially now. The fever spread through her, filled her from within, and her muscles strained to push her toward him, to make contact—as much contact as possible. Ever since their fiery kiss in the storage room, she’d been aching to have him pressed against her again. His lips paused just beneath her right earlobe, the tip of his tongue dancing lightly over her pulse. It sent a ribbon of fire unspooling through her, twisting and wrapping its way to spread the pleasure it carried.
She pulled back and reached for him, caught his face between her hands. His skin was rough, whiskers just below the surface, prickly in a way that teased her when he bent back and nipped again. His tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of her throat, the sensation evoking a breathless cry from her lips. He kissed down, over her collarbone, crouching to bring himself even with her. His scent, a combination of sea air, a hint of musky sweat, and smoke, sent her senses reeling and her heart racing. Her lungs refused to expand, leaving her breathless and lightheaded, and when his hair brushed her cheek, she shivered, sliding her arms about his neck to pull him closer. There was the urge again, the one that sent her pressing into him, clinging to him, trying to feel as much of him as possible.
His lips smoked a path along her neck and back up her jaw. When they covered hers, she offered no resistance. She melted against him, curved against the muscled planes of his solid body. Her breasts pressed firmly into his chest, and the delicious sensations spiraled through her as he parted her lips with his tongue to slide it deep into her mouth.
The fire crackled merrily in the hearth. It was such a beautiful, spacious room, with a monstrosity of a bed dominating it, and the heat grew, billowing out to make her clothes feel too hot and heavy for her skin. She wanted to plead with Rafe to unlace her corset, to free her from its confines, to strip her chemise from her body and soothe her scorched flesh with his hands, his lips, his tongue.
Her fingers slid up into his hair, twisting into the silken threads. Her entire body did a slow ache for him, starting with her lips and ending somewhe
re around her feet. His tongue caressed hers slowly, teasingly.
Breathing was impossible. Especially in a corset. Why didn’t he just unbutton her dress and unlace her?
As if he heard her thoughts, Rafe skimmed his hands along her back, and her dress fell open. He shoved, sending it spilling from her to pool at her feet, and a moment later her corset joined it. His hands came down to cup her backside and lift her against him to meet his growing hardness. The thick bulge of him made the ache inside her even worse.
His fingers pressed into her, kneading her bottom, drawing her in to meet him in time to his hips working against her. Slow. Steady. Teasing. The way he would move inside her, if she would only allow him entry.
And dear Lord, she wanted him inside her.
She broke the kiss to whisper, “Rafe…” in a heated, throaty purr.
“Shh…” he whispered back, his fingers catching her chemise to slide it up. He finally brushed against her bared flesh, and she couldn’t help herself. She shivered against him. Heaven. Sheer, wonderful heaven.
He groaned in the back of his throat and spun, pressing her against the wall alongside the hearth, and she wrapped herself all around him, savoring the sensual firmness of his finely muscled body, delighting in how primal it felt, that he couldn’t wait to spirit her to the bed but had to have her right then. Well, he wasn’t the only one desperate for their joining. Everything in her body, in her soul, cried out for him, begged for him, yearned only to claim him the same way he’d claim her.
The wall was smooth, the heat from the fire comforting without being overwhelming, and he shifted to hold her in one arm. Her chemise bunched around her hips as he eased her up. When he pulled back, it was to gaze at her with fiery topaz eyes before he moved in to kiss his way down over her breast.
The wet heat of his tongue soaked into the linen of her chemise, into her, and when he swirled it about her nipple, she could do nothing more than moan and arch her back, her fingers threading through his hair. Back and forth, he flicked the tip of his tongue over one aching crest, then drew it into the sinful, wet heat of his mouth. She cried out softly.
As he continued the sensual torture of her breast, his free hand slid down, over her hip, to slide beneath her chemise.
“Oh, Rafe…” she breathed, fighting to keep her voice low. Her entire body writhed beneath his touch, the need for release consuming her as he flayed her to the bone without mercy. Now everything felt too hot. And why was he still wearing his damned breeches? They needed to go. Now. She tried to will him into removing the offending garment as quickly as possible.
He stroked carefully, tormenting her in the most wonderful way possible, leaving her hot and aching for him, her hips rising to meet each amazing thrust of his fingers. His thumb brushed over that most sensitive nub, and she exploded, her back arching, her body begging for him just as her voice did.
Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure scorched through her. When his hand disappeared, she wanted to protest but her voice had fled. Not that it mattered, for it was only a moment before his hips nudged between her legs and he thrust to slide deep inside her.
She clung to him, wrapping her legs about him. He wasn’t slow or teasing now, but moved inside her as if his own climax rode him hard. It must have, for no sooner did she find her pleasure again than he was groaning and shuddering against her, crushing her close as his body spilled into hers.
She sank into him, trembling as she simply collapsed against him. A breathless laugh teased her ear as he caught and held her easily, wrapping his arms about her as he staggered back and fell into the chair nearest the hearth. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, and he sighed when she pulled him to her still-damp breast.
He groaned softly, his breath warm through her clothing as he murmured, “Katie…oh, God…Katie…”
She bit down on her bottom lip as he eased himself from her, but his arms tightened about her, and he kissed the top of her head as she snuggled closer.
They stayed that way for a few more minutes, and Katie didn’t care if they ever moved. This was just fine with her, his arms tight about her, her head nestled against his chest. She could hear the strong, steady thump of his heartbeat, and it was the sweetest of music.
Chapter Sixteen
No woman had ever looked as beautiful, as sensual, as Katie did when he set her on his bed and she sank back into the pillows. Her glorious blonde mane of hair spilled across the linens, glinting like molten gold in the candlelight, splashed like sunshine itself over the deep blue pillow. Candlelight bathed her skin into a burnished ivory, silken and smooth, and he couldn’t resist bending to sweep his lips along her collarbone.
Pleasure still hummed through him, and judging by the flush in her cheeks, Katie hummed just as much. He kissed her again. Her lips were soft and sweet, tasting of tea, and her tongue slid along his in a caress that made him burn for her.
She gently rolled over onto her belly, and when she peered up at him over her shoulder, he almost groaned aloud. Her eyes—such a beautiful shade of green—were fairly radiating sensuality. She blinked, the dark sable of her lashes sweeping against her cheek. He’d imagined this scene many nights over, and even that hadn’t come close to the perfection of this moment.
Her sigh floated up to tease him. “What’re you thinking?” she murmured.
“You don’t want to know.” He caught two handfuls of her chemise, tugging it up to display her curves. The rise of her adorable backside, the turn of her hip, the dip of her waist. There was something fantastically tantalizing about torturing his senses with the slow exposure of her creamy skin. Delicious agony, really, watching her body become bare before his eyes.
She drew in a breath as the linen skimmed up to bare the outer curve of her left breast, and he ached to trace his tongue into its shadow. He wanted to urge her onto her back, to see the up-thrust rise of her breasts, their rose-tipped crests beckoning the stroke of his tongue. God, she had beautiful breasts. The perfect size. The perfect shape. Perfect breasts, indeed.
But he didn’t try to move her. Denying himself was agony of the sweetest sort, just like those teasing hints of bare skin. He did let his fingertips graze the curve of her hip, and smiled at her quick intake of breath.
She whispered, “Oh, but I do,” and it was his turn for a sharp exhale.
She rolled over to sit up, and he whisked the chemise over her head to let it fall to the floor, into the shadows alongside the bed. He cupped her right breast, his thumb slowly grazing her soft nipple. She sighed, the bud puckering into a hard bead beneath his touch.
“Do you?” he whispered, plucking the crest, rolling it gently between his thumb and forefinger as she arched her back to press her breast harder into his palm.
She murmured something inaudible, nodding as her eyes slid shut. Her lips went slack and soft, her bottom lip caught between pearly teeth. Desire surged through him, even hotter than before. Along with it came the need to tease her, to make her as hungry for him as he was for her.
Her body was soft and pliant in his arms as he bent to press a kiss into the slope of her shoulder. “I want to taste every inch of you, sweetheart,” he growled into her ear, letting his tongue lightly trace the delicate shell. “Every single inch.”
She nodded, her breathing growing ragged. “Oh, yes…”
“I’m going to start here.” He flicked her earlobe with his tongue. “And move to here. Then here.”
She shivered as he kissed her neck, nipped at the curve of her shoulder once more then pressed her back into the mattress. He punctuated each word with a kiss and followed each kiss with a flick of his tongue. He was practically on fire for her, for his Katie, and he would eagerly burn if it meant this night never ended.
He bent to capture one crest and swirled his tongue slowly about it. She gasped, and the fire shot through him as a soft plea rose to her lips. Her fingers slid
into his hair, but he wouldn’t let her hold him still. He lifted up his head. “And I’m going to kiss here.”
Here was the slope of her belly. Her skin was a delicious blend of sweet and salty, tasting of sin and delight. The muscles of her belly quivered beneath his fingertips as he skimmed down toward her hip. She let out a breathless laugh when he brushed what he knew was a ticklish spot. He lifted his head again to regard the beckoning fluff of blonde gossamer between her legs.
“Rafe?”
“And here.” He slid his fingers easily through the damp curls between her legs, finding her wet for him. His discovery sent another flaming arrow of desire through him and a groan rose in his throat. Just knowing how much she wanted him served to make his arousal that much more powerful. It almost strangled him with the need to show her exactly what he meant by kissing her everywhere. “Oh, novia…you have no idea how much I want to kiss you here.”
“Rafe…I…no, don’t…”
He shifted, settling between her thighs, and bent to nuzzle those curls. Her thigh muscles twitched, her legs closing up against his ears. He let his breath be his first caress, teasing her with the tip of his tongue. Her soft cries inflamed his already heightened senses. In turn, he sped up, he slowed down, he did whatever made her sigh the loudest and arch the hardest against him.
She was hot and wet, sweet as honey and wicked as sin. Her fingers twisted in his hair, pressing him into her, and he obliged, savoring every caress, slow and fast. Her cries went from muffled to throaty, her hips rising sharply as every muscle in her body went as taut as a bowstring. He slid his hands along the backs of her thighs, holding her still as he sampled every last bit of her. When he felt the first tremble, he knew she was close.
“Rafe!” He felt her release and pulled her closer still, wanting her to enjoy every last drop of pleasure he could wring from her body, every last pulse he could give her. She shivered against him and begged for mercy. Only then did he let up and pull away to press a gentle kiss into her left thigh. “Sweetheart…” he murmured as she sank against the mattress and fought for breath.