Forever and a Day (14 page)

She stepped toward him, took the pail out of his hand and set it aside. Meeting his gaze, she said softly, “You were pumpin’ for quite some time. How are your hands?”

He fisted them and shrugged. “Fine.”

She wagged her fingers. “Show me how perfectly fine they are. Only then will I let you go back to the pump.”

Averting his gaze, he leaned over and swiped up the pail. “You need water.”

“Not at this price.” She grabbed his arm. “You’re done.”

“There is no need to coddle me, Georgia.” He freed his arm, turned and jogged down the stairs. “I’ll be back.”

She huffed out an exasperated breath. Damn him. He was only going to make it worse. Gathering her skirts, she rushed down the stairs and hurried after him. Before he could reach the entrance leading out into the street, she darted in front of him and slammed the oak door with a resounding
bang
so he couldn’t leave.

She swiveled toward him, setting her hands on her hips. “You’re done for the day. Now get upstairs.”

He leaned down toward her. “Your mouth is much bigger than the rest of you. I think you have a tendency to forget that.” Moving around her, he purposefully bumped her aside with his large frame, making her stumble.

“Robinson.”
She darted in front of him and shoved at his muscled weight. Grabbing hold of his exposed wrist, she tried to grab the pail. “Give it to me.”

He yanked it up high into the air, breaking her grasp on his wrist with a swift tug, and stared her down with lethal calmness. “If you think that I will
ever
let you pump water in my stead, knowing what it’s done to
my
hands, you are delusional, woman.
Delusional
. You are never touching this pail again. Now bite down on that tongue of yours for one long breath and get thee upstairs.” Rounding her, he lowered the pail back down to his side and stalked toward the closed door.

Bless him for being the only man in the ward to have thought of saving a woman’s hands. She jogged after him, grabbed hold of his arm and drew him back toward herself. “Robinson. My hands are used to the work. If you want, you can go back to the pump on the morrow,
after
we—”

He jerked his arm out from her grasp. “If I want to pump water for you, regardless of whether my hand is raw or not, you have no say.” He shoved past her.

Jumping toward him, Georgia forcefully ripped the pail out of his left hand, and flung it aside with an echoing
clang
against the nearest wall. “You’re done.”

He narrowed his gaze as he rounded her to go get the pail.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Gritting her teeth, she grabbed him hard by the linen of his shirt with both hands and used every ounce of her strength to shove him hard against the wall behind them. Tipping her full weight into that muscled mass, she made him stumble back against the wall with a solid thud.

His hands jumped up to steady her and keep her from altogether falling aside and onto the floor.

Georgia glared up at him, disregarding that she was draped against him like some wanton in need of a quick dollar. “I’ve been doin’ this all my life,” she rasped, tightening her hold on his linen shirt to balance herself. “Long before you and your gentlemanly ways ever came along, and as you can see, me and my hands are still here. There’s no need for you to puss up your hands in some stupid effort to prove yourself to me. You want to prove yourself? Do so by havin’ some respect for your hand, because that’s all I want and that’s all I need from you right now.”

His eyes darkened. “Let me tell you what
I
want and what
I
need, and I can assure you, it doesn’t involve water.” He grabbed her hard by the waist and forcefully spun them around so fast, her heart popped.

He shoved
her
back against the wall, making her gasp.

Pinning her solidly into place with his body, he lowered his gaze and methodically watched his own hands trail up her waist and round up to her breasts, before sliding up to the curve of her throat. He sensually grazed her skin with his knuckles before sliding both hands into her knotted hair.

She could barely breathe against the feel of his hands.

Tightening his fingers against her hair, he tilted her face toward his. His chest rose and fell heavily against her own heaving bosom as he pressed her harder against the wall. “My hands matter not to me.
You
matter to me. Do you understand?
You
. If I wish to make my hands bleed to ensure that your life is a bit easier, allow me that. Or, by God, I will rip all of your clothes off in an effort to make you feel half of what is pounding through my veins here and now. Do you understand?”

She swallowed, her heavy breaths mingling with his in the quiet narrow corridor. Her world faded knowing that this incredible man desired not just her body, but her mind and her heart. Georgia Milton. From Orange Street.

The erotic tension in his muscled body that held her dominantly in place and the way those strong fingers dug into her hair made her want to rip
his
clothes off. “If you want to rip off all of my clothes—” she breathed out “—then do so. But you’re not goin’ back to that pump.”

He lowered his chin. “You would let me rip off all of your clothes?”

She swallowed, unable to breathe or think or care about anything but physically embracing this raw, carnal passion pulsing between them. “You wouldn’t have to. I would willingly take them off.”

He held her gaze for a long, searing moment. “Are you telling me that you want this?” He pressed even closer to her, so that she could feel all of him. “Tell me you want me, Georgia. I need to hear you say it.”

She felt herself growing wet in response to his unashamed grinding. She tilted her face up toward him despite the strong hold he had on her against the wall. “I want you.”

His hold tightened, those fingers digging into her. “You are supposed to tell me to desist, Georgia. For God’s sake, tell me to desist, before I ravage you here and now. Don’t think I won’t. ’Tis all I’ve been able to think about.”

He was such a gentleman in the most inconvenient of times. “You haven’t done anythin’ yet. Do somethin’, already.”

He stared her down before lowering his mouth to hers, crushing it against her lips. Shifting his body against hers, he pressed his erection into her corseted stomach and demanded more of her mouth, never once pausing as he tilted his head to mold and remold himself against her. They kissed more and more ruthlessly, their tongues battling and their heated breaths mingling until they were both gasping against each other’s lips. She felt herself physically unfolding to the point of trembling.

Blindly sliding her hands down his firm chest, she rounded his muscled thigh and rubbed it. It had been four long years since she’d known passion. She never thought she’d be able to cradle it again. Until now. Finding the rigid length pressing against the flap of his trousers, she achingly rubbed at the rounded tip of his hard cock, trying to feel him through the smooth wool.

His fingers tightened their savage hold, tugging on her hair, making her scalp burn. He broke their kiss. “Georgia.” His breaths were ragged as he sensually moved against her stroking hand with the slow, even roll of his hips. “Not here. Upstairs. I want to lay you out and count every freckle.”

She rubbed him through his trousers again. “Whilst counting the freckles would be fun, every man drags a woman off into bed. But you’re not every man, Robinson, and I’m not every woman. Which is why we’ll do it here and we’ll do it now.”

He captured her gaze, his hips pausing. “In public?”

She paused from stroking him. “Have you no sense of adventure, oh, Salé pirate of mine? This here be the high seas I speak of.”

“It isn’t the adventure or the high seas I’m worried about.” He glanced toward the closed door leading out into the street and pressed into her. “What if someone walks in?”

“Then they do.” She frantically unbuttoned his flap, shoved his undergarments aside and slid his warm, hard length out. A shaky breath of disbelief escaped her as she slid her fingers around that velvety hard length. She couldn’t believe that she was touching him like this.

He searched her face and tightened his hold on her. “Georgia, you can’t be bloody serious.”

She paused and drawled up at him, “You’re spoilin’ the mood, you know. I kind of feel like Eve arguin’ with a priest over what to do with an apple.”

“You mind that tongue.” He pressed her back against the wall and growled out, “You may be Eve, but I’m no priest.” He fisted and jerked up her skirt, whipping it up past her thigh. Forcefully sliding his large, warm hand up between her thighs, he spread her with his fingers. “Something tells me I should start here. What do you think?”

She gasped as he used her own moisture to rapidly flick her. She could barely breathe as his finger rubbed faster and faster.

He intently held her gaze. “More?”

“Yes. More.” Her chest tightened, her breaths coming in jagged takes as sensations rippled up her stomach and down past her thighs. She trembled and pushed her hips against that hand, desperately needing more. Gripping his arms in an effort to balance herself, she held his fierce gaze, feeling her moisture slowly slather his fingers as he flicked and rubbed, flicked and rubbed.

Georgia bit down on an anguished moan and felt herself being pushed toward that incredible edge of bliss.

Her body quaked at his heated movements. It was as if she was unleashing the man buried within. It made her feel incredibly powerful and feral knowing that she was penetrating that soul with her own passion.

“Do it,” she whispered.

Releasing her wetness, he grabbed hold of her thighs with both hands. With a wince, he yanked her up and onto his hips, straddling her around his waist.

She paused. “Your hand.”

“I’m not thinking about the hand.” He shoved her skirts out of the way and draped them back, the tensing of his long, muscled arms holding her against the wall and himself. “I’m thinking about
this
.”

The ache and burn within her exposed upper thighs increased as she tightened her straddle, widening herself to him.

Positioning the tip of his cock at her wetness with a quick hand, Robinson savagely thrust himself into her so hard, her back and body slammed against the plaster, vibrating the entire wall.

She gasped, her core threatening to ripple and burst against his rigid length as he slammed into her again and again and again, heightening each ripple to a throat-clenching crescendo.

He pounded into her, knocking the breath out of her with his large, muscled body. His wide chest rose and fell with each seething breath as he quickened each ram with the bang of his hips.

Although her back and shoulders pinched against each unrelenting thrust, sending her repeatedly into the plaster full force, it only seemed to erotically punctuate the pleasure raking through her overwhelmed senses.

Feeling herself edging and edging into her own climax, she clung to him, reveling in watching that rugged face flush against his impending pleasure. His upper lip beaded with perspiration as his square jaw tightened in desperate control.