Page 117 of The Worst of Them

His smile spread, and the effect was so unfairly beautiful that she craved the taste of it. “Is that what you were doing?”

She snorted. “No.”

Stede turned from the stove to give Jack as enthusiastic a greeting as he’d given Cecily that morning. He handed over a dinner for the first mate, as Cecily had already eaten, then Jack took her hand. Her blood sang from the simple contact as he led her through the ship and to his quarters.

Their quarters. Her body flushed with heat at the thought.

The porthole cast the last light of the evening sun over the room. It looked exactly as it had before, with the desk affixed to the wall and the small armoire standing in the corner, its door cracked enough for her to see the red coat hanging inside, along with her bag where she knew her knives would be.

In the corner was the bed, neatly made and big enough for two. It would be their first real night as a married couple, and she had no doubt as to what it would entail. She looked forward to it. She wanted it.

She was nervous for it.

This one final piece of her, her last vestige of choice and innocence that she’d guarded so closely—she was ready to give it to him. Gladly, wholeheartedly, because he loved her. He’d proven it time and again, and she wanted—needed—to be his.

She had tried not to think about it, for she knew it would make her blush like mad. But now she couldn’t help it and didn’t bother trying as Jack shut the door and locked it. He set his plate on the table, then crossed the room to light a small lantern hanging on the wall by the desk.

As the flame lit, Cecily stepped behind him. Seeming to expect her, he turned away from the lantern to take her face in his hands at the same time she reached for his coat and pulled him down to her.

They crashed together in a desperate, searing kiss.

The stubble along his jaw was rough against her palms, but his lips were soft as they moved against hers. His hands gripped her waist before he spun and planted her on the desk. Her knees fell open and he stepped between them, gripping her thighs to pull her flush against him. She gasped as her hips locked with his.

And there was that smile again, lifting beneath her lips. It tasted as fine as it looked.

She ran her tongue along his bottom lip, tracing his grin as though she could consume it, pull it into herself and keep it next to her heart. When Jack groaned, she gently sank her teeth into that pillowy lip, then slowly let it go.

Jack’s eyes were half open, his heart beating hard against her chest. The space between them was merely a formality for the existence of clothes and the necessity of breathing.

Her gaze trailed to the dinner on the table across the room—he hadn’t eaten all day, and surely he was hungry. But his hand came to her chin and turned her attention back to him.

“Let it grow cold,” he said. He ran his thumb over the seam of her mouth, pausing in the middle. He pressed lightly, parting her lips. “I want you first.”

Light danced through her veins. He leaned in, but she whispered, “You said you love me.”

Jack paused and met her gaze. “I did.” His voice was husky, and she shivered with the accomplishment of having made it that way. “And I do. What of it?”

Her gaze dipped to his mouth, as though she might watch the words come out of it again.

God, that mouth, those lips, those teeth, that voice. She couldn’t imagine loving anyone as much as she loved him. “You haven’t said it to me yet,” she told him.

His brow furrowed. “Haven’t I?” She shook her head. “I could’ve sworn I said it. I’ve thought it plenty.”

“I’ve nearly told you so many times,” she said. “But I was waiting for you to say it first.” Because loving Jack was one of the most dangerous things she’d ever done, and she wouldn’t speak it into existence until he did.

His smirk teased at the corners of his mouth, like he could already taste the declaration she wanted so badly, and savored it himself.

Then he murmured, “I love you.” His voice was velvet soft as he gave her these beautiful words for the very first time. He brought his face closer, his lips brushing hers as his eyes closed and he said it again. “I love you, Cecily.” He captured her mouth, kissed her gently, surrounding and imbuing her with heat. “I’ve loved you from the third day I knew you, when I saw blood on your teeth and realized you’d just sunk them into my wicked heart. The more you challenged me, the more you argued with me, I only loved you more and more, and I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to, even when you claimed to hate me.”

The words settled in her chest, wrapped around her heart, and buried deep in her bones. It had been far longer than she suspected.

“I chased you because I love you,” he went on, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I married you because I love you.” A kiss to her nose. “And when you were lost, I would have stayed in Tortuga until I found you, because I love you.” A final kiss on her other cheek.

Then he paused. His voice lowered. “I thought I’d fly apart when I saw you in that cell,” he told her quietly. “But I smothered my fury to get you out, to get you back, but the moment I saw Morgyn, I snapped because all I could think was how much I love you.” He met her eyes again. “She tried to take you from me, and I couldn’t let her get away with it. I won’t let anyone ever get away with it.” He held her gaze for another moment, then leaned in to lightly kiss her bottom lip, sending fire spreading through her from that simple point of contact.

“Is that enough, Cecily,” he asked, “or do you require more?”

More, her heart and body whispered. I want all of you.