He straightened a fraction so her hands fell from his shoulders and his eyes were no longer level with hers; she had to look up to meet them.
And his wolfish smile. “I’m the pirate captain. What are you going to offer me to save your life?”
She blinked, then realized this was the point where she could choose how to react. She remembered her pearl necklace, the pearl drops at her ears. Lifting one hand to her throat, she touched the milky strand. “My pearls?”
He gave her a disgusted look. “I’m a pirate captain—I’ve just looted a Spanish brig. I have chests full of jewels.”
She frowned at him. “What then?”
“Well…” His gaze lowered. First to her lips, where it lingered until they throbbed, then lower still. After a moment, after her breasts had swollen and peaked under his gaze, he murmured, “I might be amenable if you offered me…pearls of a different sort.”
She drew in a breath, faintly scandalized, wholly fascinated, while her mind skittered and raced. “You want me to…?”
He lightly shrugged, his eyes lifting to meet hers. “You have to offer. You have to decide.”
He held her gaze, his unwavering, waiting. She could read nothing in his eyes; in the darkened room, he quite easily could have been the pirate he’d described…and she couldn’t think of any alternative but to offer him what he’d suggested.
She exhaled, her breath tight and shaky, and looked down. Raising both hands, she set her fingers to the tiny pearl closures running down the center of her bodice.
As she slipped them free, the bodice gaped, then slid lower; the tiny fragments of sleeves set off the shoulder provided no anchorage.
Her character in this play was untouched…as she was. The haughty Spanish lady baring her breasts to a pirate captain was her.
A thrill, insidious, illicit, shot through her as her sleeves sank to her elbows and her gown slithered to her waist. Her hands were shaking as she tugged the bow securing her chemise undone, then she loosened the gathered neckline and drew the fine fabric down.
Leaving her breasts exposed, nipples already furled in the cool night air. In the weak light, her skin shone, pale, pearlescent.
She glanced at his face, but he wasn’t looking at hers. She glanced down as he raised first one hand to brush, then cup one mound, thumb cruising the fine skin; her nerves leapt and tingled, her skin heated and flushed as her breast firmed and grew heavier. Then he repeated the gesture with her other breast, as if he truly were a pirate captain assessing captured treasure.
“Very nice.” His voice was deep and gravelly, low enough to make her shiver. His eyes lifted to hers. He caught her gaze and slowly said, “These are mine, now, to do with as I please.” His hands firmed, his thumbs caressed. “To enjoy as I please.”
Trapped in his gaze, his hands hard and hot on her naked flesh, she swallowed, her throat constricted, and nodded.
Chapter 10
He moved closer, nudging her thighs wider as he did. His hands firm about her breasts, he ducked his head, found her lips, and drew her into a long, increasingly ardent kiss.
She caught his shoulders and leaned back, tipped her head back the better to engage with him.
He broke the kiss briefly to say, his voice a dark murmur, “Lean back on your hands.”
She did, and instantly felt steadier—instantly felt more exposed as his fingers closed about her nipples, and tightened…with a gasp she arched her spine, pressing her breasts more firmly into his hands, blatantly offering them up to him, to his artful ministrations.
It was the pirate who chuckled through the kiss, then drew back to look down at his hands, freely possessing, stroking, lightly kneading.
She didn’t dare look; it was all she could do to watch his face, to see the familiar planes grow more angular, more hard-edged. More ruthless.
“Now let’s see…”
The low words shivered through her, then she gasped again, arched again, head tipping back, eyes closing as his fingers tightened, the pressure on her nipples increased, and sensation streaked like lightning through her veins.
Her lips parted; she was panting, then he covered her lips with his, filled her mouth with his tongue, and settled to plunder her senses.
Her wits were reeling, her senses giddily spinning, her nerves heated and alive when he drew back from her mouth. He didn’t lift his head but trailed nipping, hungry kisses over her jaw, then down the taut line of her throat.
Arms braced, head back, eyes closed, as if from a distance she heard her own gasp as his lips touched, then cruised the flushed, taut skin of the upper curves of her breasts. Then his hand firmed about one heavy mound, raising it. She cried out when his mouth closed over her aching nipple.
Whimpered as he stroked his tongue across the peak.