His arms were already wrapped around her, and now he moved one hand to cup her breast again. Her nipple was hard in his hand, thrusting temptingly through the thin fabric. He flicked it with one finger, then ran his palm over it.
Under him, Maddie squirmed and pressed closer. His erection was suddenly surrounded by the warmth of her thighs, and it was pure torture not to toss up her skirts and plunge into what he knew would be slick, heated flesh.
But he held back, pulling away, trying to wrest control from his body and put it back in his mind.
Oliver Cromwell. Think of Oliver Cromwell.
But she wouldn’t allow him to retreat. She moaned low in her throat and followed him, her tongue invading his mouth with sweet urgency.
“Oh, God, Maddie,” Jack growled, cupping her head between his hands and kissing her deeper. “You don’t know how much I want you right now.”
“I can feel how much,” she whispered against his lips, and then, a moment later, must have realized what she’d said because she pulled back, a horrified look in her eyes.
“What I meant was—”
“I know exactly what you meant, sweetheart,” Jack answered. The dawn, gray with a tinge of rose, was beginning to break, and the soft light played on her face. The colors dancing over her golden complexion took his breath away. She was so beautiful, so sweet, so innocent.
He shouldn’t be the one lying with her, touching her.
“Touch me,” she whispered.
“What?” Jack jerked back in surprise.
“Don’t make me say it again,” she said. “I feel how much you want me. I want you to know how much I want you, and I—I’m burning up. I need you to touch me. Hurry.”
Jack closed his eyes, rested his head on her shoulder. “Maddie, I’m not the man who should be touching you. You’re innocent. You don’t know what you’re asking me.”
He felt her smile and looked at her face. “I may be innocent, but I’m not uneducated. I know what happens between men and women.”
“No.” Jack shook his head, but bastard that he was, he didn’t move away from her. “I can’t be the one to take your innocence.”
“Then don’t take it,” she murmured into his ear. “Give me an introductory lesson. Touch me, Jack.”
And as though her words alone wouldn’t have tempted a saint, her hand found his hard length and stroked it through his trousers. Her dark blue eyes met his. “Do you like this?” she asked. “Do you want me to touch you, skin against skin?”
Oh, God, yes.
“Oh, God, no.” He’d never be able to deliver her to Dover as a virgin if he allowed that. He didn’t know how much longer he could trust himself as it was.
He eased himself away from her and grasped her hand when she reached for him again. “Speaking of fair, it’s my turn to touch you.” He raised her hand until it was resting beside her head. “Give me your other hand, sweetheart.”
He saw the question in her eyes, but she didn’t ask it. She gave a quick glance at the lightening skies, then lifted her other hand to his. Amazing. She wanted this as much as he did. He imprisoned both of her hands under one of his and held them loosely.
For the moment she was his, entirely in his power. He saw her realize it, and her breath quickened.
Keeping his gaze locked on her dark blue eyes, he lowered his free hand to her bodice. He’d been dreaming about this, and he took his time drawing the material down over her thin chemise.
The more he revealed, the faster she breathed, until her breasts heaved against the flimsy material. Jack leaned down and placed his mouth over the exposed half-moon of flesh. She jerked, and when he didn’t release her hands, she moaned.
“Hurry, Jack. More. Hurry.”
Jack frowned. Most women liked it when he moved slowly. But he wouldn’t argue. Instead, he used his teeth to lower her chemise and stays, and her breasts, already straining, came free.
In the cool morning, her dark, round nipples were hard and taut. Her breasts were large, almost more than could fill his hand, and her skin was honey-colored. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, allowing his breath to skate over her flesh.
He bent to the valley between her breasts, kissing her there, and inhaling the sweet fragrance of her skin, of her. Moving his mouth to one side, he laved the rounded flesh, inching higher and higher until she whimpered and pushed against him, all but giving him her nipple. He took it eagerly, licking the large round nub, making it harder, tighter, sucking it, until she strained against him and cried out, “Hurry!”
Jesus! Demanding little chit. How was a man supposed to employ any skill with this kind of pressure?
