Page 46 of Captain Jack’s Woman

Jack choked. “Winning points? Is that what you call your little exhibition on the yacht the other night?”

Kit shrugged. “That was just curiosity.”

“Curiosity!” Jack hauled on the reins and brought Delia to a halt. “When you’d been waggling your tail at me for weeks?”

“Oh!” Kit shifted about to half face him, “I only did that because you were acting like a solid lump of cold stone. And you call me manipulative? Huh!”

Jack had had enough. How could he argue when all she had to do to demolish his arguments was wiggle her hips? He swung his leg over Delia’s neck, taking Kit’s along with it. Together, they slid to the ground.

Kit shook off his restraining hand and rounded on him. “When it comes to being manipulative, I’m a babe in the woods compared to you! You pretended to be totally indifferent to me, just so I’d feel piqued enough to try to capture your interest. I’m not manipulative—you are!”

Her accusation passed Jack by. One of her phrases had lodged in his brain, overwhelming it, obscuring all rational thought.

“Indifferent?” Jack stared at her. How the hell did she think he could possibly pretend to be indifferent to her? He hurt like hell, and she accused him of…He reached for her hands, still bound together with his neckerchief. “Does that feel indifferent?”

Kit’s gasp at her first overt contact with an aroused male member never made it past her lips. Fascination smothered it. Between her hands, Jack’s manhood pulsed, radiating heat through the corded stuff of his breeches. It felt hard, ridged, and curiously alive. Involuntarily, her slender fingers curled around it.

It was Jack who gasped. Unprepared for the outcome of his wild and undisciplined action, let alone her totally unexpected response, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back, hands fisting at his sides while he fought for control. In dawning wonder, Kit glanced up and saw the effect of her touch. Maidenly modesty did not rear its head as, her eyes straining to catch any change in his expression, she slowly slid her fingers up the long shaft until her questing fingertips found the smooth, rounded head.

She heard Jack’s breath catch, saw the tension that already held him tighten its grip. His breathing faltered. Instinctively, she reversed direction, following the rigid rod down to its source amid flesh much softer. Her fingers discovered the round fruit within the soft pouches; she felt them tighten.

The groan Jack gave delighted her, thrilled her. Then he moved.

Jack gripped her shoulders between his hands. His mouth found hers unerringly, all manner of wildness unleashed by her bold touch. One arm slid around her back to gather her to him. The other hand slid into her curls, dislodging her wig. It fell to the ground, a pool of shadow in the moonlight, ignored by them both.

For the life of him, Jack couldn’t regain control. Years of rakish plunder had hardened his heart; he was always in control of his senses, not the other way around. But her blatant yet oddly innocent touch had reached deep, to find something buried beneath layers of sophistication and stroke it to life, something buried so long ago he’d forgotten how it felt to be totally consumed by passion.

Urgency coursed through his veins. Experience told him the woman in his arms was far from the same state. He bent his considerable talents to rectifying the situation.

Kit was stunned. She couldn’t move; her arms were trapped between their bodies, her hands still pressed intimately against him. But she’d forgotten all that. Her lips were on fire. And the heat came from him. She tried to appease the demand in the hard, hot lips pressed to hers; her lips softened but that wasn’t enough. Then his tongue flicked along the swollen contours, and she shuddered and yielded the prize he sought.

She expected to be revolted, as she had been before. Instead, as his tongue stroked hers, flames flickered to life, warming her from within. His slow, sensuous plundering of her mouth shook her, draining the strength from her limbs. She wanted desperately to hang on to him but couldn’t.

Totally engrossed in her responses, Jack sensed her need. He raised his head and thanked heaven for instinct. Distracted by their argument, he hadn’t paid any attention to their direction, yet he’d stopped Delia beneath the spreading branches of a tree, shielded from any chance observer. Disengaging from Kit, he stepped back, lifting her tied hands around his neck. He straightened and pulled her hard against him.

Kit had no time for thought. No sooner had she been released than she was trapped again, this time breast to chest, pressed firmly against Jack from shoulder to thigh. His lips recaptured hers, and his tongue took up where it had left off, frazzling her defenses.

Defenses? What a joke! Her head was swimming, but her body seemed alive. Alive as it had never been before. Kit felt Jack’s arms ease from about her and wondered at the warping of her senses. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t hear. She couldn’t have strung two coherent words together. But she could certainly feel. His large hands came to rest just behind her shoulders. For one unnerving moment, she thought he intended to end the kiss. A shudder of relief ran through her as his palms swept her back, down over her waist, tracing her curves with authority. When his hands cradled her bottom, her fevered flesh burned.

With a low growl of satisfaction, Jack shifted his hold and lifted her, taking two steps to set her back against the trunk of the tree, bringing her head level with his. He let her slide slowly down until her feet just touched the ground, one of his thighs wedged firmly between hers.

Fire raged through Kit, leaving her scorched, parched, thirsty. Her lips clung to his, as if the passion in his kiss was her only salvation. Little rivers of flame ran through her veins, pooling in liquid fire between her thighs. She pressed her thighs hard against the muscular column between them but could find no relief. The flames flared briefly, then faded to a glow.

Then Jack’s lips left hers. Too weak to complain, she let her head fall back, surprised at the soft moan that escaped her.

“Breathe out.”

Without thought, Kit complied.

“More.”

With a deft wiggle, Jack freed Kit’s breasts from their bands. Her startled gasp was cut off as his lips returned to hers. Her mouth opened to his penetration, a honey-sweet cavern yielded like an offering. He might be in the grip of a raging lust unlike any other he’d ever experienced, but he still took time to savor her while his hands freed her shirt from the waistband, pushing the sides of her coat and waistcoat wide apart, baring her breasts for his ministrations. When his hand closed about one delectable globe, he felt a shudder of pure pleasure pass through her and knew she was his.

Kit was entirely beyond thought, her mind overwhelmed with feeling. Jack’s confident possession of her breast brought a murmur of denial to her lips, but he ignored it. She ignored it, too, as his fingers sought her tightening nipple and caressed it to aching hardness. He seemed to know just what her flesh required, far more certainly than she did. When he turned his attention to her other breast, she pressed the soft mound into his palm, seeking relief from the driving need for satisfaction.

Jack drew back slightly, the better to view his conquests. The ivory skin of her breasts sheened like silk beneath his hands; it felt like satin. The rosy peaks were tight little nubs, dusky against the ivory. She had beautiful breasts, not overly large but firm and perfectly rounded. One strawberry-tipped peak beckoned; he dipped his head to taste it, drawing the succulent fruit into his mouth, swirling his tongue about the sensitive tip.

Kit lost the fight to stifle her gasps. Her fingers tangled in Jack’s hair, pulling long strands free of the riband at his neck. He suckled, and her fingers tightened on his skull. God! She hadn’t known she could feel so intensely. Her breathing was ragged, desperate yet disregarded. Feeling was all.