It wasn’t a fight for dominance, not anymore. It was a dance we’d been moving toward.
“Get off,” I said, laughing under my breath.
“Make me.”
My knee came up, aiming for his side. He caught my thigh with shocking ease, his hand splayed over the muscle, fingers pressing in. A gasp escaped me. It was pure sensation—thestrength in his grip, the warmth seeping through the leather of my breeches.
Pinned. The full, exhilarating reality of it slammed into me. His body covered mine, one of his legs slotting between both of mine, a firm, unyielding pressure against the apex of my thighs. The ache there was sudden, blinding.
His free hand came up, not to strike, but to cradle my jaw. His thumb stroked over my lower lip. His focus dropped to my mouth. “All that defiance… where is it now?”
I surged up, capturing his thumb between my teeth. Not biting down, just holding, a warning and an invitation. A low, rough sound vibrated in his chest. It wasn’t a growl. It was something older, more possessive. The hand on my thigh slid inward, up, his palm grinding against the seam of my trousers where I was already growing damp, hot, impossibly sensitive.
“There,” I whispered against his thumb, releasing it. My head fell back against the wall.
“Nerina,” he whispered, my name a raw sound.
That was all it took. The last thread of my restraint snapped.
I surged forward, capturing his mouth with mine.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a clash—hungry, desperate, tasting of salt and want. He met me with equal fervor, a low growl rumbling from his chest into mine. His arms banded aroundme, crushing me against him. The careful control he wore like a mask was gone, shredded by the force of this.
His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming, exploring. My hands fisting in the dark linen of his shirt. I needed to feel him. All of him.
He broke the kiss, his face close enough to warm my cheek. “These are in the way,” he rasped, his fingers tugging at the laces of my trousers.
“Then do something about it.”
His laugh was a dark, thrilling thing. With brutal efficiency, he yanked the laces loose. The fabric gave way, and his hand slipped inside, past the waistband, past the thin barrier of my underthings. His fingers, cool at first against my feverish skin.
My eyes screwed shut. A ragged moan tore from my lips, swallowed by the creak of the ship and the distant roar of the sea.
His finger slid through my folds, a slow, torturous exploration that had my hips jerking against his hand.
“Alaric,” I managed, arching into his touch. "Please"
“Please what?” He leaned over me, his body caging mine, his mouth hovering above mine again. He pressed a finger inside me, slow, deep, making my vision blur.
“More.”
He teased. A single fingertip circling, light, maddening passes that made my thighs tremble. I clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. The controlled pirate captain was gone. In his place was a man unraveling, his voice rough and uneven against my neck.
“Tell me what you want.” His voice was gravel.
“You know.”
“I want to hear it.”
I opened my eyes, meeting his stormy eyes. The restraint in them was a thin veneer, cracking with the same desperate need I felt. “I want you.”
A shudder went through him. He kissed me again, deep and drowning, as he finally,finally,pushed two fingers into me.
A perfect, burning fullness. I cried out into his mouth. He swallowed the sound, his own groan vibrating against my tongue. He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that matched the roll of the ship. In. Out. The heel of his palm pressed against my pearl with every thrust, building a coil of tension so tight, so bright, I thought I might break apart against the wall.
His other arm wrapped around my waist, hauling me even tighter against him. Our bodies were fused, sweat-slicked, moving together. The friction of our clothes, the solid strength of him surrounding me, the relentless, perfect drive of his fingers—it was too much. It was everything.
“Alaric,” I gasped, breaking the kiss, my forehead falling against his shoulder.
