Page 53 of Captain Jack’s Woman

He had her balanced perfectly; her knee on his shoulder let him steady her with that hand alone, leaving his left hand free to caress her bottom. Her skin was damp, but not from the rain. His hand skimmed one ripe hemisphere, then his fingers sought the cleft between, sliding down to find the spot where a little pressure went a long way. Kit’s shuddering gasp told him he’d found it. He moved her knee, opening her fully, pausing to circle the swollen bud of her passion with his tongue before plundering the delights of her honey-filled cave.

He wondered how long she could take it. How long could he?

Sensation after sensation crashed through Kit. She felt battered by the volleys of passion rocketing along her veins. Hypersensitized, she was agonizingly aware of every erotic move Jack made. Wantonly, she abandoned herself to delight, reveling in the shocking intimacy. Again and again, he brought her to the point where she could sense those odd ripples of tension building within her. Then his attention would wander, slowing her down when she wanted to rush headlong to her fate. When he did it again, she moaned her displeasure. She struggled in his hold. “Damn you, Jack!” But she couldn’t tell him to stop; she didn’t know what she wanted.

But she was quite sure he did. She heard his deep chuckle, and felt its reverberations through her hands. He drew back to look up at her, his eyes alight with a searing silver flame. “Had enough?”

“Yes—no!” Kit glared as best she could, but it was a weak effort.

Jack laughed and let her knee down. He got to his feet and Kit swayed into him. His lips found hers and she tasted her nectar on his lips and tongue. The flames started to build again.

Then Jack drew away. Kit slumped against him, too weak to protest. He held her, his hands roaming her silken back, marveling at the texture of her skin. She was well and truly primed, ready to explode. And, thank Christ, he was still in control. God knew how long that would last.

Kit moaned her disapproval and lifted her face for his kiss. Jack obliged but kept the kiss light. He disengaged, and his lips brushed hers. “I take it that means you want me inside you?”

Kit blinked.

She couldn’t believe her ears. After what he’d just done to her—after what she’d just let him do to her—he wanted her to say it. Aloud. She set her lips mutinously.

He raised his brows.

“Yes, damn you! I want you to put that bloody sword of yours inside me. All right?”

Jack crowed once in triumph, then swept her up into his arms. “Far be it from me to disappoint a lady.” In two strides, he reached the bed. It wasn’t his bed at the Castle, with its silken sheets, but it would do for now. The wind howled about the eaves as he laid Kit down, pulling the covers from under her. They wouldn’t need them for an hour or two.

Deposited in the middle of the bed, Kit fought an automatic urge to cover her nakedness. But Jack’s hungry gaze dispelled her inhibitions. She stretched, catlike, settling herself on the pillows, and watched him undress.

His boots came off first, then he stood and peeled off his wet breeches. Kit’s heart leapt to her mouth when she saw what she’d previously only felt. Jack reached for a towel and dried his legs. When he turned his attention to what hung between them, Kit’s mouth went dry. It had to be impossible, surely? But it was patently obvious that Jack had been accommodated by other women, although she couldn’t imagine how.

A log settled in the hearth, sending sparks flying, recalling Jack to his duties as host. Dropping the towel, he crouched to tend the fire.

Kit drew a deep breath, then another. It would work—he knew what he was doing, even if she didn’t. He wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that. How was it going to feel, having that pushed inside her?

She forced her mind to other things—to the sheen of the flames on his skin, to the sculpted muscle covering his large frame. Her gaze was drawn to a number of scars scattered randomly over him. One in particular held her attention, a long gash on the inside of his left knee, highlighted by the flames as he stood and turned toward her.

His weight bowed the bed, rolling her into his arms. Kit lost all hope of retaining any degree of lucidity the instant his lips met hers.

Jack savored the taste of her, relishing the ardor he sensed beneath her calm. She’d cooled somewhat, but all that meant was that he’d have the pleasure of stoking her flames yet again. Regardless of her previous experience, he had every intention of making sure this was one night, one time, one man she’d never forget. He set his mind and his hands to the task.

His knowing fingers searched and found all her points of passion, those particular areas where she was most sensitive. The lower curve of her buttocks quickly became his favorite—she heated in an instant at the lightest caress. Anything more definite brought a moan to her lips. Satisfied she was safe from any chill, Jack gathered her to him, pressing her slim length to him, from shoulder to knee. But before he could roll her beneath him, he was seduced by the sensation of hot silken skin sliding sensuously over him.

Kit responded instinctively to the novel texture of Jack’s body. She’d never felt anything like it before. Consumed by curiosity, she rubbed her soft thighs against his rough hardness, marveling at the friction of his hair against her skin, at the contrast between his lean muscle and her yielding flesh.

She sensed the hiatus in Jack’s attention and assumed it was her turn to explore. She’d made her decision; there was no reason to shortchange herself. Whatever penance she’d pay would be the same. Opening her eyes, she spread her hands across his chest and wondered at the width of the muscles that spanned it. She glanced into Jack’s face and found his eyes shut, his jaw set, his lips thin.

Smiling, she moved her hands lower and watched the tension in his face, his whole frame, grow. Tentatively, she reached for him, taking him between her hands as she had two nights before. Her fingers moved up the throbbing shaft and found the rounded head. A bead of moisture clung to her fingers.

Jack’s control snapped. He forgot all thoughts of slow mutual torture, consumed by the need to douse the flames she’d set raging through him. His heat needed hers to come to fruition. In one smooth move, he pulled her beneath him, coming over her to settle on his elbows.

Kit’s gasp was lost as Jack’s mouth took hers in a relentless plunder of her senses. His ringers laced through her curls, holding her head steady while he ravished her mouth, sending heated longing down every nerve. His hips were heavy on hers, pressing her into the bed. She welcomed his weight and wanted more but he ignored her tugging. She felt him shift slightly, then his hand slipped between them to expertly caress the soft flesh between her thighs. Kit moaned and opened to his fingers, her breath catching as they slid slowly into her. She felt his thumb flick against her and sparks flew. The furnace deep within her ignited.

His hand withdrew and she frowned and shook her head, too breathless to find words to protest. She writhed, searching mindlessly for fulfillment. Then she felt his thighs press heavily between hers, nudging them farther apart. Smooth, hard pressure eased her aching flesh.

That was what she wanted. Kit moaned and tilted her hips in instinctive invitation.

Despite the mists of lust clouding his mind, Jack’s faculties still functioned. They registered the unexpected tension in the ligaments of Kit’s thighs and passed the information on.

With an effort, Jack drew his lips from Kit’s. His head bowed, he drew a deep breath, then shook his head to clear it of the irritating niggle that was threatening to spoil his evening. But that only made the evidence more obvious. Dammit! It was as if she’d never spread her legs before. He frowned, and Kit moaned impatiently. Jack shook aside his ridiculous fancy. The woman writhing in urgent entreaty beneath him had most assuredly been this way before. He flexed his hips and entered her, slowly, letting her heat welcome him, the slickness of her arousal smoothing his way.