tilt of her hips, and sending a jolt of pleasure through them both. Their gazes met. “I liked that,” she said, shy and teasing.
“Mmm. Let’s see if we can find it again.”
They did, the thrum of desire fading into laughter. Was this what it was like for everyone? Was it always so bright? Like the sun had risen and cleared out all the darkness?
“Hattie,” he whispered. Her gaze snapped to his. “Tell me again.”
You shall lose your heart.
He rocked into her. “Please.”
Her heart was already gone. “I love you.”
He thrust into her. “Again.”
“I love you.” She clung to him, and he reached between them, finding the straining bud just above where they were joined. “Yes. Whit.”
“I can’t wait much longer, love. I’m desperate to come in you.”
“Don’t wait,” she said, his touch winding her tighter and tighter, sending her higher and higher. “Please, love. Please, don’t wait.”
“Again,” he whispered. “Just once more.”
“I love you.” She gave him the words a heartbeat before she was lost to the pleasure, flying apart beneath him and the London sky, and she was crying his name and clinging to him as he worked her in a beautiful, undeniable rhythm, carrying her through one release, and then another, before he gave up his own with a low, loud groan, the most delicious sound she’d ever heard.
When they returned to the moment, their breath in harsh symphony, the river tide lapping against the side of the ship, Whit pulled her tight against him, turning to put his back to the deck and cover them with his greatcoat. He pressed a kiss to her temple and exhaled, long and lovely. “Beauty.”
The word sent warmth through her, and she cuddled nearer to him.
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I do not deserve you.”
She smiled at the words. “I think you can agree that I am almost as much trouble as I am delight.”
He did not reply, his broad, rough fingertips painting designs across her bare shoulder, soft and sure and mesmerizing enough to make Hattie forget where they were, and who they were, and all the reasons they could not be together. She tracked those movements, the slow slide of his fingers and the feel of his breath in her hair, slow and even, until her eyes became heavy, and she wondered what might happen if she fell asleep here, in his arms, on the riverfront.
And just as she decided that she didn’t much care what would happen if she did just that, because he didn’t seem to be interested in moving, either, he spoke, the words a soft rumble beneath her ear.
“Marry me.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Of course he was going to marry her.
He’d been planning to marry her from the moment he stepped onto the damn ship and saw her standing on the raised prow, looking every inch a warrior, waiting to do battle. His warrior, waiting to take him as spoil.
As though he wouldn’t go willingly into her arms. Especially after she’d told him she’d like to murder both his father and his brother. And capped the whole thing off perfectly by telling him she loved him.
She loved him.
If Whit never heard it again, he would remember that moment forever. When he took his last breath, it would be with Hattie’s indignant fury in his memories, and the man I love in his ears.
She loved him, and that changed everything; it made her his, unquestionably.
And then she’d tied him to the mast and made him hers, after making him wild with desire and filling him with pleasure and satisfaction and calm certainty. For the first time in his life, Whit hadn’t doubted. He’d known.
He was going to marry Henrietta Sedley.
Nothing had changed, and somehow everything had.
So it was unfortunate but expected that, when he suggested the idea, it was less of a question and more of a command, but he certainly hadn’t expected what came next. He hadn’t expected her to go still against him, as though the words had been a blow. And he hadn’t expected her to lift her head slowly, moving the way one might around a rabid dog.
And he certainly hadn’t expected her to say, simply, as though he’d asked her if she would like tea, “No.”
What in hell?
“Why not?”
“Because I love you.”
His breath caught at the words, the ones he’d wanted so desperately earlier, but he could not bask in the pleasure of them. He was too concerned about the rest. “Dammit, that’s a reason to marry me, Hattie.”