The Devil and the Deep - By Amy Andrews Page 0,65

pouted.

His smile broadened. ‘For now.’

Stella’s heart beat a little faster at the promise in those two incredible eyes the exact colour of the tropical waters surrounding them.

Rick prowled around the bed as Vasco had done, his gaze boldly running over every delectable inch of her. Blatantly lingering on her breasts and the strawberry mark he couldn’t see from this distance but he knew the exact location of—low and to the left of her centre. Their gazes locked as he roamed, dragging out the moment.

He stopped at the foot of the bed, shoving his hands on his hips. ‘I discovered something very interesting yesterday,’ he murmured.

The timbre of his voice dragged silken fingers across her skin. ‘Really?’ She hoped she sounded nonchalant, that the vibration of her madly fluttering heart wasn’t shaking the entire bed.

He nodded as he planted a knee on the mattress. ‘It’s intriguing to say the least,’ he continued.

‘Something to do with Inigo?’ she asked as she watched Rick prowl towards her, the light of a fictional pirate in his eyes.

He shook his head. ‘No. Something to do with you.’

‘Oh?’ Her voice sounded high and breathy as he came right in close, his knees brushing her spread inner thighs.

Rick reached out and brushed his fingertips down her exposed centre. Stella gasped and bucked. He smiled. ‘You like that, don’t you?’

Stella bit her lip and nodded her head as the brush became something more purposeful. ‘Yes.’

The hammer of his heart was loud in his head as his finger followed the path of her heat and sank inside her. ‘And this?’

Stella whimpered. ‘Yes.’

‘You want more?’ he asked, sliding another finger home, using his thumb to rub the spot that was already tight and hard.

Stella was ready in an instant, balanced on a knife edge of anticipation. ‘Yes.’

Rick smiled. ‘Don’t you want to know what I discovered?’

She arched her back as he picked up the pace. ‘Yes, yes.’

Rick swallowed. She looked so bloody desirable at the mercy of his hand that he wanted to rip his boardies off and forget the damn birthmark but it was about more than the blemish.

Had she ever fantasised about them together? As he had despite Nathan’s unspoken law? Had she felt something more than friendship for him?

As he had.

He had to know.

He withdrew his fingers from inside her. ‘I found that you, too, have a birthmark.’

Stella felt her orgasm recede beyond her reach as her breath stuttered to a halt. She opened her eyes to find his blue ones glittering down at her.

‘Strangely enough,’ he continued, sliding his finger to the left, locating the blemish immediately, ‘in exactly the same spot that Lady Mary has hers. Coincidence, Stel, or are you Lady Mary?’

She shook her head vigorously. This was not what she’d expected. ‘No.’

What would he think if he knew? He’d already guessed too much about her fantasy life from Pleasure Hunt.

He quirked an eyebrow as he brushed his finger against the birthmark again. ‘Really?’

Stella panted even as she fought not to. ‘Really.’

He moved his hand from her completely. ‘I think you’re lying, Stella. Mary’s so very, very familiar to me.’

It was something he’d only just realised, too caught up in the big things to recognise the subtleties of the character. The nuances. The jut of her chin, the turn of her head, the glimpse of her humanity beneath all her starched upper-class Britishness.

Stella glared at him, now torn between telling him to go to hell and lying to him so he’d finish what he’d started.

And she felt vulnerable.

A state that had nothing to do with her nudity.

He wanted her to look at things that she’d never questioned too deeply.

‘What the hell does it matter?’ she asked in exasperation, yanking against her bonds.

‘Because...’ He looked into her simmering olive gaze, knowing that if he was demanding the truth from her then the least he could do was return the favour. ‘Because despite what your father decreed, I used to fantasise about you. Not consciously, never consciously. But in my dreams...that was different. And...’

This bit was the hard part. The bit he’d never admitted to before, not even to himself. ‘I guess I’d always wondered...hoped, maybe...that you might have done the same.’

Stella’s heart ticked away madly like a thousand halyards tinkling in a stiff breeze. There’d been a vibe between them as teenagers—not spoken about or acted upon. But if she’d known that he used to dream about her she might have ignored her father’s silent censure.

He looked so serious kneeling between her legs. Torn, surprised