“Christ, Ellie,” he groaned, the muscles in his neck taut as a bowstring. “I don’t want to hurt you.” If the squeezing in her chest was any indication, she feared it was too late for that. He grabbed her wrist, but she did not release him. “I can’t give you what you want.”
The hope that had made her bold fizzled. She released her hold on him and drew her hand away.He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t care.Pain clenched her heart. She hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.
But part of her refused to give up.
If this was all he was going to give her, then she would take what she could.
With renewed determination, she started to work the ties of his braies, but the fabric was wet, so it took some effort. When she’d opened him to her hand, she glanced up at him. His face was as hard and unyielding as granite.
“What I want? All I want is this.” When he didn’t respond, she wrapped her fingers around him, feeling a low stirring of arousal in her belly. The velvety-soft skin pulled tautly over the thick, turgid steel. “Just a little pleasure, one last time.”
Damn her. What the hell did she think she was trying to prove? No matter how much fun they’d had together, he was going to sail away later tonight and forget all about this. They both would.
It didn’t matter how incredible she felt in his arms, how he couldn’t seem to get enough of kissing her, or that he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman in his life. It was simply because he knew he couldn’t have her. The pounding in his heart, the visceral attraction, the primal need to be with her—it would all fade. It always did.
But nothing had ever felt like this. He wanted her so badly that for the first time in his life he didn’t trust himself.
Why did she have to push? Why couldn’t she leave it alone? He didn’t want to hurt her. He was trying to do the right thing. But the feel of her hands on his body, touching him, stroking him … ripped all his good intentions to shreds. He could still feel the damned imprint of her hand on his chest.
He knew what she was trying to do with her little game, but it wasn’t going to force him to change his mind. This didn’t mean anything, damn it. And he was going to prove it. If she wanted pleasure, that was exactly what she was going to get. More pleasure than she could stand.
She might have started this game, but they were going to finish it on his terms.
He dug his fingers through her sodden hair and dragged her face to his, covering her mouth in a long, deep kiss. Relief surged through his body in a hot, heavy rush.
He devoured her with his mouth as she stroked him. Tongues twisting deeper and deeper in the frantic need to consume. Yet it did nothing to take the edge off the hunger still pounding inside him.
He shouldn’t be doing this. Not when he felt like this. Angry and teeming with a strange, frantic emotion he didn’t understand. He didn’t feel like himself. Something wild and uncontrollable was building inside him. He felt the pressure in his chest. A heaviness expanding with nowhere to go.
He sensed the danger, but didn’t heed its warning.
It’s only pleasure. Lust, nothing more.
Yet every wicked stroke of her hand increased his frenzy, his body already primed to the breaking point by her teasing touch.
One last time.
He sure as hell was going to make it count. He pulled her hand off him before it was over too soon and drew her against him, easing her down on the stone under him.
His hands covered her body. Her breasts, her bottom. Squeezing, clutching, pressing her closer to him, desperately trying to ease the hunger and the dangerous emotions coiling inside him.
She melted into his hands, arching and pressing her body to his. If there had ever been any restraint in her responses, it was gone. She met each stroke of his tongue, each touch, with a wild abandon he couldn’t have imagined.
But like oil to a flame, it only fueled the fire raging inside him.
He was kissing her. Touching her. Molding her body to his. Hip to hip. Chest to chest. The hard bead of her nipples raked his chest as she moved against him.
But it wasn’t close enough.
He wanted to feel her warm skin sliding against his. He wanted to see her naked—completely naked—for the first time. No chemise, no tunic, no braies to come between them.
Clothes. He needed them off. He wrenched his mouth away and tore off his shirt. Her eyes widened, taking in every inch of his naked chest and arms. She shouldn’t look at him like that. The raw hunger in her gaze was only making him hotter.
His braies came next, and then, before she could object, he shimmied her chemise over her head.
Jesus.He sucked in his breath, feeling as if he’d just been poleaxed.
She was beautiful. Not skinny, but lithe and delicate. His eyes gorged on every slender inch of creamy skin. Small, pert breasts. Slim waist and gently curved hips. And her legs … her legs were perfect. Long and trim, with smoothly shaped muscle.
