“No. A most unpleasant word. Now turn away from me.”
She frowned but did as he bade, and then she felt him cuddle up to the back of her.
A wall of warmth – the sheet so very thin.
With his muslin shirtsleeves pushed to the elbow, a bare arm slid around her waist, clutching her close. His face buried itself in her nape and she shivered, feeling his breath whisper down her neck.
She ogled his strong wrists and bronzed forearm. Maybe this idea was a dash flawed.
“Tell me a story, Jack,” she asked softly, needing distraction from his solid muscles.
“Once upon a time,” he began, “there was a rogue who had to recite the alphabet backwards in order not to ravish the innocent beautiful woman that lay in his arms. The end.”
She laughed and twisted until they were face to face. So close.
The candlelight reflected in his eyes, dancing flames that even the devil would envy.
“Why don’t you ravish me then?” she whispered. A bold question, but one which slipped from her mouth and was now impossible to retract. Mayhap, the Eggy-hot contained more than a tot of rum.
His eyes briefly closed. “I have a rule,” he rasped. “Number two. Do not seduce innocents.” Black lashes raised and revealed torrid desire, fierce and wanton.
“And do you always abide by your rules?”
She narrowed the gap until their breaths mingled, eyes blurring at the intimacy.
And then their lips met.
It felt different kissing Jack when she wore nothing but night-rail and robe. Without corset, and with the sheet being so thin, his chest rubbed deliciously against her breasts, and his heart thundered, savage and rapid as a cannon.
Fingers wrenched the ribbon from her hair, tangled in the knot, pulled the plait loose.
The kiss felt different too, needy and passionate but edged with desperation.
This wasn’t a seducer’s kiss; it was a lament.
Harder, his mouth ground, tongue darting. He grabbed her rump, tugged her tight to his body, feeling every sinew, his unabashed arousal. With fingers seeking his nape, she crushed his lips to her own, unable to prevent her hips from thrusting against his, seeking and asking.
But a hand rose to caress her cheek and the kiss gentled.
Too soon and he heaved away, panting. “My rules must govern me, Tamsyn. Otherwise, where does it end?”
Gently, he turned her body to face away and then snuggled close behind her again, arm tight around her waist, a band to prevent her movement.
His lips brushed her ear. “Sleep.” A plea.
Tamsyn’s body ached with longing but her mind, now wearied from the day and sluggish from the rum-infused drink, refused to stay awake, snubbed her efforts to hold eyelids open, to relish the sensation of Jack behind her, of hearing his laboured breathing, of feeling his powerful body, rigid against her own. And so, powerless against the beckoning call, she allowed slumber to claim her.
∞∞∞
It might have been romantic to describe dawn streaking through the gap in the curtains with a stunning ruddy hue, but it wasn’t so.
Instead, it stole in, a pale grey that delicately lightened the chamber little by little.
With eyes wide, Jack watched it stretch into the hidden corners, revealing dressing table and screen.
Who could sleep when wrapped around Tamsyn?
Womanly scent and pliant softness, she shifted in her sleep, the thin sheet no barrier to imagination.
