Page 95 of Lord of Temptation
They’d not stayed in harbor. Instead Tristan had ordered the ship taken out to sea. Not far. Just enough so the wind toyed with Anne’s hair while she stood on the deck, just enough so all the stars were visible. Just enough so she heard a whale in the distance.
She couldn’t deny that she understood why he had an appreciation for the sea, but she didn’t want to spend her life competing with a mistress who would always come first in his heart. Nor could she blame him for wanting it when it had always been there for him. When he had needed a place to run, it had provided sanctuary.
Tristan stood behind her, his legs braced, holding her near while the ship rocked gently, the sails now furled until they were ready to return to shore.
“I can understand why you love it out here,” she said quietly.
“I think you love it as well.”
“I appreciate it. That’s a very different thing.”
“I’ve never shared any of this with another lady.”
She turned in his arms until she was facing him. “And I’ve shared with you far more than I’ve ever shared with anyone.”
“Regrets?”
“Nary a one.”
Rising up on her toes, she kissed him with all the hunger, the yearning—and yes, even the love—that she held for him. She would never utter the words that might hold him to her because she cared for him too much to deny him the sea.
Or perhaps she feared her love wouldn’t be enough to hold him.
It didn’t matter. What she felt was not to be shared or examined. They would have tonight, and then she would lock it away.
With her nestled securely against his side, they made their way to his quarters. It was not what she would want for a home, but it was his home. She was glad he’d brought her here again.
Then she had no time to reflect on anything because his mouth was on her and his hands were working quickly to divest her of her clothing. She was just as eager, grateful that he’d come to her in only boots, shirt, and trousers. She’d have him bared in no time at all.
“You’re not wearing a corset,” he said as he jerked her dress down.
“No.”
“Good girl.”
“If you dare pat my head—”
“Your head is not what I intend to pat.”
She laughed as they scattered their clothes about the floor before falling into the bed. She didn’t want to acknowledge that she didn’t sleep nearly as deeply when she wasn’t snuggled up against him. Perhaps, though, it was only that when she was with him she always went to bed sated.
She wanted a long, slow, leisurely sojourn into lovemaking, but they had been apart too long for anything remotely tame. It was as though neither of them could get enough of the other.
His tongue swirled and danced with hers. Arching against him, she ran her hands along the familiar flesh. She didn’t want to consider how right it felt to have his body bearing down on hers. She wanted to lose herself in the sensations that he was drawing to life.
Everywhere he caressed mourned when he moved on to someplace else, and he left nothing untouched. From her crown to her toes, he stroked and tasted, he kissed and nipped, he suckled and licked.
She did the same with a boldness that astounded her. He was hers—completely and absolutely. For tonight anyway. Eventually he would drift away, and she would let him go without tears or a scene. She would be grateful for what they had tonight.
Then she would settle into being a proper lady. But tonight she intended to be decidedly improper.
Shoving on his chest, angling her hips, she rolled him onto his back. “My turn,” she breathed.
Breathing harshly, he asked, “What’s this?”
“You’ll see.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair and brought her down for a kiss. She would give him that, let him have control for a moment. As though she had any choice in the matter. She enjoyed his kisses too much to give one up freely so she straddled him and sank into it, allowed their mouths to seek and claim. But when he came up for air, she slid down, kissing his neck, tasting the salty dew that was already beginning to coat his skin.
