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“I’d rather kiss you in a hayloft. I have no doubt I’d prove myself there.” He flashed his fine white teeth. It was his signature smile, arrogant and beautiful.

It dropped from his face like a mask.

“Tib.” He leaned closer, laid his fingertips on her cheekbones. He was serious, focused, more beautiful than ever. “What if loving each other were the contest?”

What if loving each other were the contest?

Dear Lord. Everything snapped into place.

“I’d win!” The words burst from her, along with a laugh, the most reckless and joyful of her life.

“I mean, it is,” she said, wildness rising inside her. “And I will.” She saw his eyes flare, with elation, with defiance. Words were too flimsy to carry the point.

“I—” she said and could say no more. She launched herself upon him.

James fell back, twisting, using her momentum to propel them both into the middle of the bed. Her naked weight struck his chest. Oh, Lord, yes. He wouldn’t mind falling like this for miles. But she deserved a bold competitor. He refused to give up so easily.

He protested. “You can’t win at hating me and win at loving me.”

“Why not?” Her breath stirred against his throat.

He skimmed his hands down the dip of her back, over the rise of her bottom, the warm silk of her skin sensitizing his fingertips. He’d never felt so responsive, so attuned to a body not his own. Just this—her weight, his fingertips on her skin—and he feared his heart would burst, that desire would drive him out of his wits.

“Because I love you more,” he gritted the words, like an oath, like a dare. He gripped her arms and lifted her up. He stared into her flushed face, met her wide, clear eyes. Then his gaze slid to her parted lips. Her curving collarbones. Her gorgeous breasts, pale globes tipped with dark pink. He moved her forward, captured her nipple in his mouth.

She tasted salty from the sea, but so very sweet. He sucked, growling. Had he thought he wanted her? Need. This was raw need. He couldn’t access enough of her, not like this.

He flipped her onto her back, straddled her legs. Now he could feast his eyes on more of her flesh. He stroked the back of his hand between her breasts. She was muscular and narrow, more sinewy than slender, freckled on the tops of her shoulders. She was like . . . comparison failed him. She was like herself. So perfectly like herself.

He stroked lower, to the dark cleft at the juncture of her thighs, pressing there with his palm, the breath stopped in his throat.

“This isn’t fair.” She shifted restlessly beneath him. “Take that off.”

He fumbled one handed with the buttons of his waist coat, moving his other hand slowly, sliding his thumb into her moist heat.

She arched her back, and he watched her teeth sink into the plush of her lower lip.

His blood scalded through his veins. God have mercy.

They’d survived the sea, but this, this was going to kill him.

He jerked off the waist coat, flung it over his shoulder. She bent her leg, then, and with a sudden, shockingly strong motion, she slammed him sideways. She scrambled on top, knocking him flat, sitting astride his waist, grinning with self-congratulation.

He laughed and seized her hips, driving her down on the spot where his cock tented his breeches. The pleasure arced through him. For a moment, he didn’t notice that she was clawing at his shirt, snapping threads, popping buttons, her grin giving way to a look of fierce determination. He reared up, moving his shoulders to help her slide down the sleeves. He had to let her go to shuck the shirt entirely, and she took the opportunity to sidle down and undo the buttons of his falls. His cock sprang free. He moaned as he felt her fingers close around it. His vision was hazing. She slid her hand up then down to the base.

“Tib,” he gasped.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s bigger and harder than I credited.”

“My winky, did you call it?” He laughed, then groaned as her hand tightened. “It’s not usually quite so big or quite so hard.”

“No?” She sounded fascinated.

“No.” He fondled her breasts, staring up at her, almost frightened by the power she wielded. “You’ve done something to me.”

“Do you like it?”

“Like it?” He gasped again. “Like isn’t the word.” She was bending over him, and he felt her tongue circle the tip.