I hissed as bruised muscles shuddered and clenched in pain.
“You still feel my punishment.” He trailed his nose along my shoulder. “Shall I retrieve the salve?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
But I wasn’t. Wrapped in his powerful arms, held against the marble slab of his chest, with his finger directly on my clitoris, despite all the pleats in the skirt, I didn’t trust my own judgment.
If he took, I would give. He wanted me, no mistake. I couldn’t feel his hardness through our clothing, but I didn’t need to. I heard his want in the consonance of our panting, felt it in the union of our sizzling energy, and saw it tremble in the fingers that now twisted in my curls.
With his grip in my hair, he spun us both until we stood face to face, eyes locked. Barely a sliver of space separated us.
His mouth lowered. Mine lifted. Straining to meet, our lips parted, floated closer, closer, and paused just before making contact.
Our chests rose in unison. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. Deeper than a lick, more divine than a kiss, we became breaths. Nothing but trembling, heating, mating breaths.
It was a magical, instinctual attraction. I pulled, and he came with me. He leaned back, and I followed. We were joined by sparks that coalesced into one entity, drawn together like magnets, bound by an invisible force.
The fire that burned inside me, deep in the heart of my innermost being, roared into a conflagration, demanding fuel, seeking him. I wanted his mouth to fan the flames. And his hands. His heavy cock.
With his gaze fixed upon my lips, he held me prisoner, a willing captive to his attention. Now he just needed to erase that last inch. It had to be him.
Then he did. He pulled me tight against his hard body. But instead of raiding my mouth, he seized my neck. Licking. Kissing. Vibrating, bone-penetrating kisses that made my heart and blood hum with satisfaction.
My fingers clutched his waistcoat and shirt, clinging to his strength. It was a miracle that my legs remained beneath me. His potency washed unbearable longing through me, rousing a craving I’d held at bay for four days. And he wasn’t finished.
Tilting my face up, he put his sculpted mouth at my ear. “You are so gratifying to the senses. So clear and absolute.” A kiss at my hairline. “Unrestricted. Unconditional.” His lips brushed across my cheek. “Ripe with temptation. Fit for eating.” He touched his forehead to mine, breathing heavily. “You’re so damn stunning it hurts.”
I closed my eyes, shivering at the mercy of desire. Heat gathered between my legs, pulsing, liquefying. If he could do this to me with only his words, what else could his tongue do?
“Ashley—”
“Silence.”
“Kiss me, then. Kiss me until I can’t speak.”
He went motionless, wooden, all signs of lust rapidly evaporating. His arms fell away, and he retreated a step.
My eyes widened, tapered, and glared.
“Don’t give me that look, Goldilocks.”
“You’re attracted to me.”
So was my wretched, cheating husband, and look what that got me.
Remember the pain, Bennett? You still feel it.
But Ashley was different. He wouldn’t betray me like that.
“Apples…” He plucked one off the breakfast tray. “They’re a rare treat during long voyages at sea. When I see one, it attracts me, makes me crave that which I don’t need. If there are several available, I always select the prettiest one. I can eat it. Or I can simply appreciate its beauty and toss it back.” He dropped the fruit onto the platter. “Because I know I can live without it.”
My nostrils widened with the seething rush of my anger. “You’re comparing me to a goddamn apple?”
“Was it not an apple that influenced Adam’s fall and introduced evil into human nature? Adam’s apple is…” He pulled down his cravat and ran a finger over the bulge in the front of his throat. “Man’s swelling.”
Forbidden fruit and temptation led to sin. And erections. Understood.
“Point made.” My cheeks rose mischievously. “Challenge accepted.”
After we shared a breakfast of fried hasty pudding, molasses, apples, and tea, Ashley strode aft toward the sleeping chamber. With a sigh, I admired the muscles flexing in his thighs beneath the hem of his blue frock.
My attraction to him was a ball and chain. There was no shaking it. His head-to-toe prettiness made seducing him a palatable plan. But what if this became more than a ruse? What if I lost my grip on what was real and what wasn’t?