Page 9 of Breath From the Sea
She shouted something in Gaelic and her men stopped their fighting.
“Cease fighting,” Titus bellowed to his own men.
The deafening roar of battle ceased and a charged silence surrounded them.
“I want the ring—” she started to say, but Titus wrenched forward, grabbing her arm and whipping her around so her back was pressed to his chest.
“You’re not getting anything,” he growled against the shell of her delicate ear.
Upon seeing their captain captured, the barbarians each grabbed the nearest sailor and held a blade to their throats. Their menacing glowers, bared teeth, all facing him.
“Tell your men to stand down,” Titus said. “Or I will kill you. And you won’t have the pleasure of chasing after me to get what you want.”
“I won’t chase you, I have you now.” Her voice was filled with an intriguing and baffling confidence.
“Still in denial about this situation, aye?” Titus said.
Antónia huffed. “Fine.” She shouted an order in Gaelic and though her men grumbled, they unhanded the sailors and then leapt toward their own ship.
Once each and every one of them was off his vessel, Titus whipped Antónia around so that her chest was pressed to his. What he’d thought to be small swells before was wrong. Her breasts were ripe and plush and pressed hotly up against him.
He leaned down, perhaps a moment of insanity, wanting to taste those luscious lips, but she snapped her teeth at him.
Titus chuckled and pinched her rib. “Feisty, wench.”
Anger flashed in her eyes, her cheeks flaming red. “Let go of me, you bastard.”
“Shall I toss you in the water as you wanted to do with my sailor?” He started to drag her toward the rails.
“Ye can go to the devil.” She wriggled against him, managing to jab an elbow sharply into his ribs.
Titus ground his teeth. “I could do it, make no mistake, but what fun would that be?”
She let out a disgusted snort, rolling her eyes and stomping on his foot. “I will get that ring.”
Titus jerked his boot back, wincing at the sharp pain in his toe. “Over my dead body.”
“I will be happy to oblige,” she snarled, twisting.
Titus did bend to kiss her then. If only to shock her. To stop her fighting. Oh, good heavens… He delighted in every angry snarl that issued from behind the press of her velvet lips. He swiped his tongue along the seam, breaking her lips open. Her teeth were bared and he licked those, too, until she gasped, and then he dove in for the kill. Titus was a good kisser. Damned good, if he didn’t say so himself. The ladies at court all wanted a kiss from him and yet he was bestowing it on this Irish rebel. Antónia, punched his arms, fisted her hands in his shirt and doublet, and then tugged him closer. Giving in to passion, she let out a growl and kissed him back just as hard. Good God, ifshewasn’t a devastating kisser. He’d never put his lips to a woman so fierce, so full of passion.
Titus’ blood ran hot, pooling in his groin. If they weren’t standing on the deck in the middle of his ship, surrounded by both their men, he’d have swept her up to his captain’s quarters and shown her exactly what else he could do with his mouth. His hand brushed gently over one breast—aye, a wastrel thing to do, but he couldn’t help himself. Her nipple was hard and her breasts heavy.
Just as suddenly as she’d kissed him back, the heel of her boot slammed down on his foot—harder than before.
Titus groaned, gripping her tight. Begrudgingly, he pulled his mouth from hers and glared down at her.
Fury filled tension occupied the space between them. “Unhand me, ye buffoon. I’m no morsel for ye to be tasting.”
“Might I remind you, you were just as much tasting me, sweet lass.”
“You English disgust me.”
Titus grinned and loosened his grip. “Not too much I’d say.” He lowered his gaze to her breasts where he’d felt her hardened nipples, where her chest still rose and fell with heightened breaths.
She pinched him hard on the back of his arm. “Ye’re going to pay for taking liberties with me.”
He pinched her back. “I hope your punishment is just as fierce as your kiss.”
She slapped him hard, the sound cracking.
Titus grabbed her wrist and leaned down close to her face. “Get back on your ship. Go back to Ireland. Else, I’m forced to throw your pretty little arse in the brig.”
For a split second, she looked surprised. But she quickly recovered, that fury and arrogance returning. “Don’t close your eyes at night. Don’t get comfortable at your supper table. Don’t think that I’m not watching you when the horizon is clear.”
Once more she wrenched from his grasp and then she was running across the deck, grabbing hold of a line and swinging over the sea toward her own ship.
Bloody hell, but Titus looked forward to the chase.
