His Wicked Kiss (27 page)

“Oh, Miss Farraday,” murmured a deep, playful singsong, beguiling her to awaken. “Milady, your breakfast is served.”

Reality pirouetted its way into her magical dream. The morning sunlight filtered through the cotton sheet that veiled her eyes.

That husky whisper came again: “There’s chocolate here.”

Her stomach growled in answer to the lovely smells floating through the thin layer of cloth.

Chocolate… and cinnamon?

Ahhh…

She was already smiling before she was even quite awake.

Drowsily inching the sheet down from her face, she peeked over the edge of it, and saw Jack sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, his arm braced possessively across her body.

By the soft, gold, rosy light of morning, the terror of the
West Indies
was watching her with a tender, slightly doting smile on his ruggedly handsome face.

“Jack!” she said softly, and sat up, clutching the bed-sheet to her bosom.

He leaned near and kissed her cheek. “Good morning, sweet.” He swept a gesture to the legged tray waiting on the bed. “May I present this celebratory breakfast in your honor.”

“Goodness, I accept, but what are we celebrating?” she asked with a large yawn.

“The fever’s broken. Peter Stockwell is awake, and more importantly, alive.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, t
hank
God.”

“T
hank
s, also, to you, my intrepid little doctor.” He handed her a mug of hot chocolate without further ado.

She was thrilled by this rare luxury, glancing down into the cup, then at him again. “Is there sugar in it?”

“Lots.”

She sipped of its sweet, dark comfort and let out an appreciative sigh.

“Let’s see, what else have we got for you here?” he mused aloud. He reached toward the breakfast tray and lifted off the silver lid, revealing a glass of juice and a beautifully arranged plate of sliced ham, fresh grapefruit, and cinnamon rolls, still steaming warm, with raisins peeking out from underneath the white glaze that dripped down the flaky sides.

Tempted,
Eden
set her chocolate down, licked her lips, and picked up the cinnamon roll, taking a large bite. Jack’s smile broadened at her amazed exclamations of delight. After years of taking care of Papa and Connor in the jungle, she could not remember anyone ever having made such a fuss over her.

She pushed the plate toward him. “You don’t mean to make me eat all of this by myself?”

“Yes.” He grinned with a flash of even, white teeth. “Every crumb.”

She gave him a look of playful scolding and held up a cinnamon roll to his lips. He took a huge bite, and
Eden
ate the other half, then leaned forward, giggling as she chewed, and kissed him on the mouth.

“Mm.” Jack swallowed, returning her playful peck as he reached for a sip of her chocolate. “That’s good.”

“I told you so.”

“I meant your kiss.” He set the cup aside and lifted the glass of juice out of her hand. Setting it on the tray, he gave her a hungry stare. “I want another.”

Her pulse leaped with anticipation as he cupped his hand around her nape and gently drew her closer. She sighed softly as his lips caressed hers, melting into his embrace.

She had not realized how much she had been craving him and counting the hours since he had last reached for her. It seemed ages since she had last felt his arms around her, but it had only been two nights ago when he’d kissed her in his bed.

As she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kisses eagerly, he pulled her closer with an arm around her waist; his fingertips glided down her neck, the light touch causing her to shiver.

She knew she shouldn’t want this, but she did.

She knew that it was dangerous, but she wasn’t afraid.

As she stroked his smoothly shaved cheeks and the dark silk waves of hair, her world turned giddy spirals. She wasn’t sure what was happening to them, but the exquisite pleasure they took in each other was something that neither of them had expected to find. It was a pleasure that was much more than physical.

“Good morning,
Eden
,” he whispered, after a long moment of reveling in her response.

“Good morning, Jack.” Her voice was a breathless purr.

Taking hold of the lapels of his unbuttoned waistcoat, she pulled him closer, smiling, and demanded more kisses.

He gave them happily, letting her hair tumble through his splayed fingers. His breathing was deepening; her whole body tingled as she ran her hand hungrily down his waist.

“I have to stop this,” he ground out, dragging his lips away from hers.

“Why?” she breathed.

“Because I want you.”

“Well?”

He shuddered and closed his eyes at her urgent whisper, leaning his forehead against hers. “
Eden
.”

“Jack.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Then why don’t you show me?” She traced the curve of his ear with her lips. “I trust you, Jack. I’ve trusted you from the start.”

“Aye, that’s the problem.”

Sitting back, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his fingertips. His face was taut, and the aqua hue of his eyes promptly darkened to the deepest blue. He watched her, fascinated, as she took the end of his middle finger into her mouth.

All of a sudden, he leaned in and captured her face between his hands, replacing his finger with the urgent stroke of his tongue. Her heart thundered. His fine mouth slid back and forth across hers, coaxing her lips open wider. She knew the fundamentals of the mating dance, at least in theory, and he mimicked it now, with his tongue delving deep in her mouth.

Her chest was heaving when he finally ended the searing kiss.

“Lie back,” he ordered in a husky murmur.

Without hesitation, holding his fevered stare, she obeyed.

He set the tray aside and moved onto the bed beside her, his every motion full of smooth control. He traced his middle finger slowly down the center of her body, letting it snag on the low-cut V of her shimmery sea-princess gown.

She looked at him in nervous curiosity as he slipped his hand inside her dress; but she closed her eyes and moaned when he squeezed her nipple. He kissed her chin while she reveled in the sensation, then flicked the corner of her lips with the tip of his tongue. She turned her head and devoured his offering of fresh kisses. Meanwhile, his hand left her bodice and traveled lower, down to her waist.

She wound her arms around his neck in wild anticipation when she sensed him discreetly inching her skirt up her thigh.

“Oh, Jack.” She hugged him harder, her body on fire.

“May I?” he whispered, skimming his hand up beneath the gauzy blue fabric, his deft touch running slowly along her inner thigh.

Panting,
Eden
stared at him, unable to give her reckless yearning voice.
Touch me
.

He gave her a knowing half smile then bent his head to her throat, letting her frantic pulse beat against his lips. His questing fingers glided deep between her legs, exploring, caressing her, pleasuring her. She groaned, accepting his incursion in helpless yielding. Her limbs went lax, her knees weakened, and she let her thighs part in uncertain welcome.

“Tell me what you like,” he whispered, but the power of speech was beyond her.

She liked it all. He kissed her shoulder like a man in a trance as he penetrated her with one and then two fingers, making her so hot and so wet she feared she was melting. She groaned, soon given over entirely to hot, craven lust.

Oh,
God
, yes, this was what she had burned for without even knowing it. She was entranced, could think of nothing but the power of his strong body enfolding her, and his clever hands taking her to places she had never been, had never dreamed existed. She wanted to visit all of those places with Jack.

He cradled her head with his other hand and teethed her earlobe lightly, his heavy breathing raspy by her ear. “Just let it happen, my love.”

“Let what happen?”

“You’ll see.”

She moaned in helpless bliss as she held him close, one arm draped around his neck, the other hand clutching the covers. The fervent pleasure of his touch dazzled her, coaxed her ever closer toward some unknown cataclysm. She could do naught but trust him to take her there safely.

She wondered what was going to happen, like he said—and then all of a sudden, she knew.

“
Jack
!
” she wrenched out as the blinding wave hit her, washing through her core with shattering power. She shuddered and arched and clung to him like a drowning woman, gasping in the rush of wild release.

Panting by her ear, he growled her name as her pleasure spilled over into deep, sweet currents of panting joy. He kissed her temple while the throes of bliss gradually eased.

For a moment, eyes closed, she brushed her cheek tenderly against his. “Oh… Jack.”

Her ability to reason had returned—enough, at least, to deduce that he, too, had needs, and how fascinating it would be, she thought, to fulfill them.

All of her limbs felt like jelly, but she rallied the strength and the courage to reach down to offer him the same.

He flinched and stopped her before she could caress him through his black trousers. “Don’t, sweet. It would be more than I could bear.”

“But I want—”

“No, angel.” He laughed softly, though his wince seemed pained. “Just relax. Trust me.”

“I do,” she whispered.

He let out a rueful sigh. “So it seems.”

With a wide smile, she flung herself into his arms. They lay abed together for some time after that, Jack cradling her head on his chest, while his other hand, still trembling a little, trailed light caresses over her hair.

She sighed, smiling dreamily. Lord, if this was breakfast, she could barely wait to see what was for lunch.

At his desk later that afternoon, Jack was supposed to be going over the quarterly reports from the heads of each of his company’s main divisions, making sure they all were following his orders properly, executing his decisions promptly, and not letting any of the details fall to the wayside, but his mood was restless.

It had turned into a fairly ordinary day, Trahern on deck in charge of the watch, the Nipper brushing Rudy in the corner. Peter Stockwell was still in recovery.

But Jack was distracted by his awareness of Eden hard at work on her sewing with Martin behind the painted screen in the corner. No, not so much distracted, he mused. Painfully randy. Completely frustrated. Bluntly speaking, in dire need of sex.

It was no longer a question of
should
he hold back, but
could
he?

This was torture.

Of course, he realized in hindsight that he had brought it on himself, from the first day he’d kissed her fifteen hundred miles ago, back in the jungle. Then he had sealed his fate by making her strip and take a bath in front of him. He supposed he deserved this torment now for underestimating her.

Her innocence was a weapon against which he had no defense, not for all his cannons, swords, nor all his Baker rifles.

But if he had to sleep beside her one more night without making love to her, he sincerely feared he was going to lose his mind. Yes, his control was slipping, but the most alarming part was that it wasn’t just lust anymore; a very warm and simple affection for her was gathering strength in his heart.

Devil take her, all of this was utterly foreign to him. It was a most unsettling sensation. He was still in the dark, anyway, as to how a young stowaway from the cargo hold had become the queen of his ship.

The men were enchanted with her, Mr. Palliser spoke of her in tones of awe, and even Ballast had been won over. The surly gunner had whittled her a little porpoise out of a scrap of wood to show in his gruff way there were no hard feelings between them. The Nipper was now no more than twenty feet away from her at any given time, and even the dog seemed to prefer her to him.

As for Jack, he did not have a name for what he felt.

All of his sane, logical reasons not to bed her, when it was obviously what they both wanted, seemed to be wearing rather thin. It all seemed so simple: Bed her, marry her. He still needed heirs, of course, so that only left his fears to contend with.

The ones he liked to pretend did not exist.

There was so much she didn’t know about him. So much that he couldn’t tell her. But the more she came to matter to him, the less inclined he was to explain to her all of the ways in which he was unworthy.

No matter, he thought grimly. When she finally got to London, she’d hear.

On the other hand, when he thought of all she had been through, well, he could only wonder what all his strength and efficacy were for, if not for taking care of someone else? Someone exactly like her.

But she was not the kind of woman he’d ever had in mind for a wife. He had planned on some docile female who would not dare to venture anywhere near the locked doors inside him.