A Pirate for Christmas: A Regency Novella (15 page)

When he finally raised his head, she was flushed and shaking and her eyes were heavy with desire. “Don’t stop,” she said, as she’d said once before.

When he had stopped. For her sake.

“We’ve only just started.” He seized her for a deep passionate kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She met him without shyness, although he’d seen shyness in her eyes.

He caught her nightdress around her hips and lifted it over her ruffled golden head. She raised her hands in swift modesty, but something in his face must have reassured her. Raising her chin with familiar courage, she stood naked and proud before him.

“You’re perfection,” he murmured in awe.

As if he touched something sacred, he skimmed his hands down her slender arms, feeling her warmth without lingering. Some mad corner of his mind couldn’t quite believe she was real. He’d dreamed of this moment since he’d first seen her.

He caught her hips to hold her still, and kissed her with every ounce of unspoken love in his heart. She wriggled nearer, hands trailing over him, pushing his dressing gown away from his chest, learning his body as he learned hers. He backed her toward the bed, whispering encouragement between kisses on her lips and along her throat.

“Rory…” she sighed when he scraped his teeth up her neck. She shivered. “That makes me feel…”

“Good?” he muttered, curving his hands over her lusciously round buttocks.

“More than good.”

He laughed softly, and returned his attention to that sensitive spot under her ear until she squirmed and whimpered. How he loved her wild responses, but these sweet preliminaries already melted into the next step.

Holding her shoulders, he lowered her to the bed. Then with sudden ruthlessness, he flung away his dressing gown. Her eyes widened in shock—and curiosity.

“Heavens above. Are you sure this is going to work?”

He laughed as he kneeled over her. “I’m sure, my love.”

With a naturalness that slammed his heart into his ribs, she stretched out beneath him and linked her hands around his neck. “I hope you’re right.”

He kissed her again. She was taut with uncertainty, but under his gentle persuasion, she gradually turned soft and liquid once more. He cupped her breasts, squeezing the plump flesh until she shook. She gasped when his eager hardness pressed into her belly.

“It’s all right,” he crooned, running his hand down her side. “Trust me.”

“I do,” she whispered, and lay with lovely looseness as her knees rose in invitation. Female musk filled the air until he felt like he drowned in Bess.

His hand glided lower, tracing the silky plain of her stomach, following the voluptuous curve of her hips, brushing the feathery hair that covered her sex. She jerked and a husky moan escaped her. Her hands tightened on his shoulders and she nibbled an incendiary trail down his neck. Her innocent boldness stirred him to desperation.

He slipped his hand between her legs. She was hot and sleek, and when he explored the slick folds, she jolted with surprise.

“That’s wicked.”

“Should I stop?”

“Oh, no, never,” she murmured, and spread her legs to give him better access.

He teased at her center, until she was panting and restless, but he kept her from tumbling into climax. When he slid one finger into her satiny passage, she was tight. His heart gave a mighty thump and his head swam with the need to claim her. But he clung to patience. Just.

When she adjusted to the careful invasion, he tested another finger. He worked her until she cried out in agitation and clung to him.

“Don’t make me wait,” she choked out. “I want you so much.”

He kissed her, clumsy with overpowering need. This slow awakening tantalized him to the edge of madness. “I want to please you.”

“You will.” She bit his shoulder hard enough to hurt. “You do.”

Rory raised his head to meet eyes glassy with arousal. It was time. Feeling like his life hung in the balance, he angled her knees higher and carefully lowered his hips.

Bess watched him steadily. Her lips were red and swollen from his kisses and a hectic flush marked her cheekbones. He pressed through glorious resistance.

Slow. Slow.

He couldn’t bear to hurt her. Even as his blood pulsed with the command to take, to seize, to own, he held back.

When her body opened sumptuously to his, his restraint received its reward. Every shift, every touch, every sigh, all etched themselves on his soul. Bess was exquisitely hot, so marvelously responsive. The urge to thrust flayed him like a whip.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “I won’t break, Rory.”

What a bride fate had delivered. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

Despite the moment’s extremity, she managed a broken laugh. “I feel like I’ve been ready for a month.”

“Oh, my darling,” he groaned, and unable to resist, he thrust home.

Bess bit back a cry as Rory possessed her body. But much as she tried to hide her reaction, he must have felt how she stiffened. He abruptly stopped moving and under her hands, his back went as hard as stone. As hard as that large, intrusive part of him pressing inside her.

He sucked in a shuddering breath and surged up on his powerful arms to stare into her face. “Dear God, Bess, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said huskily. She’d been unprepared for the act’s stark physicality, the way her wedding vows about becoming one flesh would feel in reality.

His smile was wry, although she read aching concern in his eyes. “I’d cut my throat before I hurt you.”

She raised one unsteady hand to his cheek. “I’d much rather have you alive and with me, Rory, thank you very much.”

“It will get better, I promise.”

When she shifted to ease the pressure, he settled more firmly. She was overwhelmingly conscious of the throbbing weight, but the initial pain ebbed with every second. And there were things she liked about what they did. She liked being so close to him. She’d definitely liked the way he’d touched her before he’d taken her. That had been wonderful.

Recalling those intoxicating caresses, she bowed up to kiss him. His fervent response banished trepidation. When she relaxed against him, he groaned and jutted his hips forward. Unexpected pleasure ripped through her and her hands curled into his damp hair, bringing him closer into the kiss. He reared over her, deep-set green eyes unwavering on hers.

As Rory pulled away, her body clung to him. Her gasp this time expressed unconditional delight. When he slid into her again, she greeted him with a liquid surge.

“Oh, I see,” she sighed.

“You will.”

Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to him. The universe closed in so that all she knew was Rory’s potent scent, the deep rumble of his praise, the sublime connection of his body moving in hers. A new sensation rippled through her, grew stronger and stronger. Until it was mighty enough to crack the sky.

The unearthly yearning coiled tighter. Surely she must shatter. It was the way she’d felt when he’d so shockingly placed his fingers inside her.

But this was…more.

Frenzied with the mysterious promise beyond the striving, she bit his shoulder again. He swore softly and changed the angle of his thrust.

The world tilted and flared into blinding light.

Bess cried out as she shuddered through the transcendent fire. He moved more purposefully, then with one fierce plunge, he flooded her with heat. Rocketed to heaven, she closed her eyes and clutched his back with frantic fingers.

Eventually the wildness receded and the world stopped reeling. She drew her first full breath in what felt like a year and opened heavy eyes.

She and Rory lay on their sides wrapped in each other’s arms. They both breathed in gasps after those volcanic moments when she’d lost contact with everything but Rory and what he made her feel.

After that extraordinary union, her body ached. She’d never felt as close to another person. And because the honesty between them cut sharp as a knife, she could no longer hold back the simple, eternal words.

“I love you, Rory,” she whispered, placing a tender kiss on his bare chest.

“What the devil did you say?” He rolled her onto her back and rose over her.

Her stomach knotted with dismay as she struggled to read his expression. He didn’t look pleased. He looked like someone had hit him with a plank.

Under that searing gaze, the lovely glow receded. “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered.

They’d never discussed love, although he’d made his desire more than clear. But desire wasn’t love. And the stark, painful truth was that she wanted Rory to love her. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

“Bess…”

“You don’t have to love me back,” she said, wishing desperately she’d kept her mouth shut.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” To her astonishment, that devil-may-care smile curled his lips. “You love me.”

Her pulses careered into a drunken gallop, and suddenly she didn’t feel nearly so bereft and uncertain. “Of course I do. Why else would I have married you?”

Rory frowned as if he only just made the connection. “I’m a complete numskull. Of course that’s why you married me.”

“Did you think I wanted your fortune?”

He shook his head. He still looked surprised, but happy surprised now. Like a man out on a morning stroll who had stumbled over a pot of gold in his path. “No, I knew it wasn’t that. Otherwise you’d have accepted my brother.”

Her lips flattened with annoyance. “People have been talking.”

“Aye, they certainly have.” The teasing light in his eyes confirmed that he was far from displeased to know she loved him. That was good. Even better would be if he loved her back. “They’ve been saying something else, too.”

She sighed. “That I’m besotted with you, I suppose.”

He laughed softly and kissed her. “I never heard that. I wish I had.”

“So what have they been saying?” It was hard to keep her mind on the conversation after that kiss which, while swift, had been thorough.

“That the new Earl of Channing took one look at the vicar’s bonnie daughter and fell head over heels.” He settled between her legs, and she became aware of some very interesting things happening to his body. “Bess, I’m trying in my clumsy way to tell you that I love you.”

Dazed she stared up at him. “You do?”

“Aye, I most certainly do.” The tenderness shining in his eyes convinced her more than mere words could. His brogue was thicker than usual. “You blazed into my life like lightning and I never wanted to live without you again.”

“I felt…I felt the same,” she confessed, and her elation in becoming his wife expanded until she felt ready to burst with the glory of it all.

“Will you tell me again?” he asked softly.

She brushed back an unruly lock of auburn hair that tumbled over his forehead and studied those beloved features. “I love you, Rory.”

Rory kissed her again, gentler, sweeter. He slid up on the pillows and settled her in his arms. “And I love you, Bess. Forever.”

“I’m so happy,” she whispered, resting her head on his chest. “I thought I was happy before. But knowing I love you and you love me, I can’t tell you how wonderful that feels.”

“I’ll devote the rest of my life to keeping you this way.”

She kissed his bare shoulder. “I never thought I’d fall in love with a pirate. Until you arrived at Penton Wyck, I’d always been revoltingly well behaved.”

Even before he spoke, she felt his sudden tension. “Actually that’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

She tipped her head back to study his expression. When they’d exchanged their vows of love, he’d looked incandescent. Now he looked troubled. And a tad sheepish.

“You don’t need to make any dreadful confessions, my love.” She paused, savoring the endearment on her lips. “What’s done is done. I love the man you are now, whatever your murky past.”

“That’s very understanding.” Rory’s lips turned down in self-derision. Bess had sounded so very proud of herself when she’d professed her love for an outlaw. How he hated to blight her pleasure. “But I’m afraid there’s one dreadful confession that won’t wait.”

Her eyes wary, Bess sat up and tugged the sheets higher to cover her breasts. “Rory, what is it?”