Slowly, Jack shut the door, his eyes never leaving the woman silhouetted by the flames. Without turning, he slid the bolt home. He crossed to the table and laid his pistol down before shrugging out of his coat.
Held immobile by his silver gaze, Kit watched, helplessly transfixed. When he pulled his shirt over his head, she blinked free only to be mesmerized by the play of light over the muscles of his chest. She didn’t notice him pause to release his hair, but it was swinging free, brown streaked with gold, brushing his shoulders, when he knelt on the towel beside her.
His hands closed on her bare shoulders. Gently, he drew her to face him.
Kit looked deep into eyes of brightest silver burnished with passion. Desire burned, a steady flame in their depths. Her mouth went dry. She shuddered, swept by a force beyond her experience.
Jack watched burgeoning passion turn Kit’s eyes to glowing purple. When her tongue came out to moisten her lips, he judged it safe to reach for the towel. She relinquished it without protest. He glanced down at the treasure now completely revealed and watched as, caressed by his ardent gaze, her nipples crinkled tight.
With a slow smile of satisfaction, and anticipation, Jack returned his gaze to her face, noting her wide eyes and the lips already parted for his kiss.
Kit could barely breathe as Jack brought his hands up, skimming the contours of her neck, to cradle her face, his long fingers sliding into her curls. For a moment, he paused, his eyes holding hers, an unanswered question in their silvered depths.
She wanted this, she realized. Every bit as much as he did. In that instant, Kit made her decision. She put aside all the precepts of twenty-two years of training and reached for her heart’s desire.
As Jack bent his head, she rose on her knees to meet him.
Jack took her mouth in a burning kiss, slanting his head as she opened to his penetration. Kit braced her hands against his upper chest and leaned into his caress. In seconds, her blood was alight, ignited by his fire.
Thank God her hands were free—free to roam the warm expanse of male skin, to caress the bands of hard muscle, to tangle in the springy brown hair. Kit’s questing fingers found a hidden nipple. To her delight, she felt it harden to her touch. Hands spread, she explored the ridges of muscle above his waist before moving on to his broad back. Her hands found water. He was still wet.
Kit drew back from their duel of tongues. Jack’s brow quirked. He reached for her, but she stayed him, one small hand braced against his chest as she reached for a towel.
A droplet of water fell from his hair and trickled, unheeded, down his chest. Kit saw it. She smiled, then leaned forward and licked it off. Jack shuddered and closed his eyes, his hands fisting by his sides.
Kit’s seductive smile grew. She set to work drying his chest, working the towel in small circles, moving with a deliberate lack of haste. She stood and moved behind him to towel his back.
Jack sat on his heels and let her, held in thrall by her sensuous attentions. The tantalizing play of the towel would have melted a statue. Or at least sent it up in flames. His body was nearing that state.
When she reappeared before him, he caught her hands and drew her down to her knees again, taking the towel and tossing it aside. But he didn’t pull her into his arms. He reached for her breasts, taking one luscious mound in each hand, squeezing gently, then circling the taut nipples with his thumbs.
Kit’s eyes closed. She swayed toward Jack, her senses overloaded.
Jack kissed her, letting his hands drop to her waist. She was going too fast—he wanted to spin out her time as long as he possibly could. He didn’t want her reaching her peak just yet—he had other plans.
The kiss slowed Kit down, easing her from a full boil to a bubbling simmer. Instinctively, she realized Jack wanted her in that state. She didn’t know why, but conundrums were beyond her. His hands had moved to the fastenings of her breeches. The wet fabric trapped the buttons. It took the combined efforts of them both to win through. Once the flap was open, Jack eased the breeches down, running his hands over the cool skin of her buttocks.
Kit wriggled her hips free of the clinging folds, thanking all her angels that her riding breeches were not as tight as her inexpressibles. If she’d been wearing them tonight, she felt sure he’d have ripped them from her. At Jack’s urging, she stood. He drew the breeches to her feet and helped her from them. But before she could sink to her knees again, his hands fastened about her hips, holding her where she was, totally naked before him.
For one long moment, Jack surveyed her beauty. Then he bent his head to pay homage.
Kit’s gasp when his lips burned her navel echoed in the quiet room. Her fingers threaded into his hair; her hands clutched his head. She felt the thrust of his tongue, languid and rhythmic, and her flesh caught fire. When his lips finally moved on, her sigh filled the room.
She waited to be released, but Jack hadn’t finished. His tongue explored the curve of her hip. Kit felt his hands shift down and around until each large palm cupped a firm buttock. His fingers gripped her, holding her prisoner. She smiled—she wasn’t about to try to escape.
Then he shifted, settling lower on his knees. His lips dipped downward. And inward.
“Jack!” Kit’s shocked protest ended in a whimper of pleasure. Her knees lost all ability to support her, but Jack held her steady as his lips closed over the bright curls at the apex of her thighs and his tongue probed the soft flesh they concealed.
Kit swayed, eyes closed. She’d wanted him at her feet, but this wasn’t what she’d meant.This was beyond scandalous—it was a damned sight beyond anything Amy could even dream. Kit shuddered, and her head fell back. Her mind fragmented. Jack shifted his hold and lifted her left leg, hooking her knee over his shoulder, trailing hot kisses back up the satiny flesh of her inner thigh before settling to plunder her softness with the same unrelenting thoroughness he’d used earlier on her mouth.
Kit couldn’t think. Her entire consciousness was centered on that point where Jack’s hot mouth and even hotter tongue were drawing an answering heat from her. Her hands dropped to his shoulders, her nails sinking deep in convulsive reaction.
Concentrating on every spasm of her response, Jack knew when she approached the point beyond which her climax would become unavoidable. He changed tack, drawing her back from the brink, letting the flames he’d fanned die to a smolder before patiently stoking them to a blaze once more. From nibbling kisses about the curl-covered mound, he progressed to a slow exploration of the heated flesh that surrounded the entrance to her secret cave.
He had her balanced perfectly; her knee on his shoulder let him steady her with that hand alone, leaving his left hand free to caress her bottom. Her skin was damp, but not from the rain. His hand skimmed one ripe hemisphere, then his fingers sought the cleft between, sliding down to find the spot where a little pressure went a long way. Kit’s shuddering gasp told him he’d found it. He moved her knee, opening her fully, pausing to circle the swollen bud of her passion with his tongue before plundering the delights of her honey-filled cave.
He wondered how long she could take it. How long could he?
Sensation after sensation crashed through Kit. She felt battered by the volleys of passion rocketing along her veins. Hypersensitized, she was agonizingly aware of every erotic move Jack made. Wantonly, she abandoned herself to delight, reveling in the shocking intimacy. Again and again, he brought her to the point where she could sense those odd ripples of tension building within her. Then his attention would wander, slowing her down when she wanted to rush headlong to her fate. When he did it again, she moaned her displeasure. She struggled in his hold. “Damn you, Jack!” But she couldn’t tell him to stop; she didn’t know what she wanted.
But she was quite sure he did. She heard his deep chuckle, and felt its reverberations through her hands. He drew back to look up at her, his eyes alight with a searing silver flame. “Had enough?”
“Yes—no!” Kit glared as best she could
, but it was a weak effort.
Jack laughed and let her knee down. He got to his feet and Kit swayed into him. His lips found hers and she tasted her nectar on his lips and tongue. The flames started to build again.
Then Jack drew away. Kit slumped against him, too weak to protest. He held her, his hands roaming her silken back, marveling at the texture of her skin. She was well and truly primed, ready to explode. And, thank Christ, he was still in control. God knew how long that would last.
Kit moaned her disapproval and lifted her face for his kiss. Jack obliged but kept the kiss light. He disengaged, and his lips brushed hers. “I take it that means you want me inside you?”
Kit blinked.
She couldn’t believe her ears. After what he’d just done to her—after what she’d just let him do to her—he wanted her to say it. Aloud. She set her lips mutinously.
He raised his brows.
“Yes, damn you! I want you to put that bloody sword of yours inside me. All right?”
Jack crowed once in triumph, then swept her up into his arms. “Far be it from me to disappoint a lady.” In two strides, he reached the bed. It wasn’t his bed at the Castle, with its silken sheets, but it would do for now. The wind howled about the eaves as he laid Kit down, pulling the covers from under her. They wouldn’t need them for an hour or two.
Deposited in the middle of the bed, Kit fought an automatic urge to cover her nakedness. But Jack’s hungry gaze dispelled her inhibitions. She stretched, catlike, settling herself on the pillows, and watched him undress.
His boots came off first, then he stood and peeled off his wet breeches. Kit’s heart leapt to her mouth when she saw what she’d previously only felt. Jack reached for a towel and dried his legs. When he turned his attention to what hung between them, Kit’s mouth went dry. It had to be impossible, surely? But it was patently obvious that Jack had been accommodated by other women, although she couldn’t imagine how.
A log settled in the hearth, sending sparks flying, recalling Jack to his duties as host. Dropping the towel, he crouched to tend the fire.
Kit drew a deep breath, then another. It would work—he knew what he was doing, even if she didn’t. He wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that. How was it going to feel, having that pushed inside her?
She forced her mind to other things—to the sheen of the flames on his skin, to the sculpted muscle covering his large frame. Her gaze was drawn to a number of scars scattered randomly over him. One in particular held her attention, a long gash on the inside of his left knee, highlighted by the flames as he stood and turned toward her.
His weight bowed the bed, rolling her into his arms. Kit lost all hope of retaining any degree of lucidity the instant his lips met hers.
Jack savored the taste of her, relishing the ardor he sensed beneath her calm. She’d cooled somewhat, but all that meant was that he’d have the pleasure of stoking her flames yet again. Regardless of her previous experience, he had every intention of making sure this was one night, one time, one man she’d never forget. He set his mind and his hands to the task.
His knowing fingers searched and found all her points of passion, those particular areas where she was most sensitive. The lower curve of her buttocks quickly became his favorite—she heated in an instant at the lightest caress. Anything more definite brought a moan to her lips. Satisfied she was safe from any chill, Jack gathered her to him, pressing her slim length to him, from shoulder to knee. But before he could roll her beneath him, he was seduced by the sensation of hot silken skin sliding sensuously over him.
Kit responded instinctively to the novel texture of Jack’s body. She’d never felt anything like it before. Consumed by curiosity, she rubbed her soft thighs against his rough hardness, marveling at the friction of his hair against her skin, at the contrast between his lean muscle and her yielding flesh.
She sensed the hiatus in Jack’s attention and assumed it was her turn to explore. She’d made her decision; there was no reason to shortchange herself. Whatever penance she’d pay would be the same. Opening her eyes, she spread her hands across his chest and wondered at the width of the muscles that spanned it. She glanced into Jack’s face and found his eyes shut, his jaw set, his lips thin.
Smiling, she moved her hands lower and watched the tension in his face, his whole frame, grow. Tentatively, she reached for him, taking him between her hands as she had two nights before. Her fingers moved up the throbbing shaft and found the rounded head. A bead of moisture clung to her fingers.
Jack’s control snapped. He forgot all thoughts of slow mutual torture, consumed by the need to douse the flames she’d set raging through him. His heat needed hers to come to fruition. In one smooth move, he pulled her beneath him, coming over her to settle on his elbows.
Kit’s gasp was lost as Jack’s mouth took hers in a relentless plunder of her senses. His ringers laced through her curls, holding her head steady while he ravished her mouth, sending heated longing down every nerve. His hips were heavy on hers, pressing her into the bed. She welcomed his weight and wanted more but he ignored her tugging. She felt him shift slightly, then his hand slipped between them to expertly caress the soft flesh between her thighs. Kit moaned and opened to his fingers, her breath catching as they slid slowly into her. She felt his thumb flick against her and sparks flew. The furnace deep within her ignited.
His hand withdrew and she frowned and shook her head, too breathless to find words to protest. She writhed, searching mindlessly for fulfillment. Then she felt his thighs press heavily between hers, nudging them farther apart. Smooth, hard pressure eased her aching flesh.
That was what she wanted. Kit moaned and tilted her hips in instinctive invitation.
Despite the mists of lust clouding his mind, Jack’s faculties still functioned. They registered the unexpected tension in the ligaments of Kit’s thighs and passed the information on.
With an effort, Jack drew his lips from Kit’s. His head bowed, he drew a deep breath, then shook his head to clear it of the irritating niggle that was threatening to spoil his evening. But that only made the evidence more obvious. Dammit! It was as if she’d never spread her legs before. He frowned, and Kit moaned impatiently. Jack shook aside his ridiculous fancy. The woman writhing in urgent entreaty beneath him had most assuredly been this way before. He flexed his hips and entered her, slowly, letting her heat welcome him, the slickness of her arousal smoothing his way.
Three inches in, the truth hit him like a sledgehammer.
Jack froze. In stunned disbelief, he stared at the woman lying naked in his arms, her creamy skin flushed with passion, her features rapt, her mind centered on the place where their bodies joined. He could feel her tightening about him, even though he was barely inside her.
“Christ!” Jack dropped his head, his jaw resting on her cheekbone.
Kit opened her eyes, bewildered and bemused.
Jack didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. “Kit, are you a virgin?”
Her silence was answer enough, but he needed to hear it, incontrovertible, from her lips. “Dammit, woman! Are you?”
Kit’s soft “Yes,” was drowned by Jack’s groan. She felt him tense; his body went rigid. Then, slowly, he drew away.
The effort nearly killed him, but Jack forced his body to compliance. He pulled out of her clinging heat, then abruptly sat up and swung his feet to the floor. He dropped his head in his hands, shutting out the temptation to look at her. If he did, he’d lose the battle with his body, which was already in flaming rebellion.
He had to think. It wasn’t just that she was a virgin and he’d long ago given up deflowering the little dears. There was something more significant about the fact. With a groan, he struggled to summon his wits from their preoccupation with attaining a goal he was no longer sure it was safe to gain.
Kit frowned at the broad back, which was all of Jack she could see. Something had given her away, but with passion beating steady in her veins, she was in no mood to pander to any pecul
iar rakish whim. She’d learned from her cousins that virgins were not the favored fare of rakes, the consensus being that experienced women gave better value besides being free of potential complications. It was too bad if Jack subscribed to such nonsense. He’d brought her this far; she’d be damned if she’d leave his bed untried.
When he gave no sign of coming to his senses and instantly returning to her arms, Kit sat up. Apparently, if she wished to get his mind back where she wanted it, and his body along with it, she was going to have to make her wishes plain.
She came up on her knees on the bed close behind him. Slowly, she placed her hands on his back, spreading the fingers wide, then sliding them around, pushing under his arms until she’d reached as far as she could. She clung to him, pressing her breasts, her hips, against his back, her fingers sinking into the deep muscles of his chest.
Jack stiffened. His head came up; his hands dropped, clenched, to his knees.
Kit nuzzled his neck, and whispered softly in his ear. “Jack? Please? Someone has to do it. I want it to be you.”
The thought that this was the first time in his entire career he’d felt at a disadvantage in a bedroom floated through Jack’s fevered brain. He couldn’t think with her so close, in her present state. There was something important about her being a virgin that he should have grasped, but the elusive fact slipped further away as Kit laid her cheek against his shoulder.
“Jack? Please?”
What man of flesh and blood could resist such a plea? He certainly couldn’t.
With a sigh of defeat, Jack pushed aside the disturbing conviction that he was about to commit an irrevocable act which would seal his fate forever, and turned. Kit was right behind him, waiting, her expression anxious.