In the Arms of a Pirate (A Sam Steele Romance Book 2) (26 page)

Aidan didn’t answer.

“He doesn’t?” She was affronted for him and he was once again reminded how generous her heart was.

“I think so, I’m not sure.” He dipped his chin. “I didn’t give him a chance to talk.”

“Oh, Aidan,” she sighed. “Why ever not?”

He saw the scene in his head again, him and Roche alone in a clearing. How the memories had come at him, slammed him one after the other. His mother being raped, her dying, and being tossed overboard. How scared he’d been. How angry that his father hadn’t been there to save them.

“I blamed him.” The truth washed over him. “He was a merchant sailor and he was at sea when Roche came ashore and attacked us. I remembered, as his men beat down the door, destroyed everything in the house, I remembered thinking, believing, my father would come. He’d save us. Then, as they took turns with my mother, I prayed, thought if I did it hard enough, he’d hear somehow and come.”

It was as though he was there, reliving it all. He felt hot and cold at the same time. Yet he continued. Ever since learning the truth he’d pushed it aside, refused to think on it. He’d used finding Roche as an excuse not to deal with things. But he’d been taught better than that. He had a problem he faced it. There was nothing to be gained by hanging on to them.

“But he never came. He never saved her, never saved me. And when I remembered, when I looked at him all these years later, that’s what I thought. ‘You never saved us’.”

With sympathy and understanding in her eyes, Sarah walked directly to him and, without saying a word, embraced him. Emotions tightened his chest. He shook with the effort to contain them. Wrapping his arms around her, he held tight, grateful for the support. She’d been through so much and could have easily told him to stop complaining, that he at least had a father who loved him. Instead, she’d recognized and understood the hurt he felt.

He pinched his eyes closed, rested his cheek against her hair and held on through the worst of the storm. Eventually, he became aware of her hands sliding up and down his back, whispering against the leather of his coat. Of her hair, which was soft as silk, beneath his cheek. Of how she fit perfectly against his body.

Feeling steadier, he kissed her head. Then, as that didn’t seem enough for what she’d given him, he cupped her cheeks, lowered his head and kissed her softly. “Thank you,” he whispered against her lips.

When he tried to step away, Sarah’s arms tightened, holding him there. And he knew. Even before her fingers skimmed across his stubbled cheek, before he saw what was burning in those beautiful blue eyes, he knew he was in trouble.

“I’ve wanted you to kiss me ever since the last time.” She smiled shyly. “Well, even before then, to be honest. Since you took me to the beach, let me touch the sand.” Her eyes traveled his face. “You’re a very handsome man, Aidan.”

“Sarah.”

She rose onto her toes, brought their mouths dangerously close to each other. “Kiss me again,” she demanded.

But Aidan was already shaking his head. “That is not a good idea.” And to his mind, more understated words had never been spoken.

“There’s nobody here to judge, Aidan.”

He sucked in a troubled breath. “That’s exactly the reason why we shouldn’t.”

She dropped back onto her feet. “It’s because I’m Roche’s daughter. Despite what you said about my being unlike him, it’s why you won’t kiss me, isn’t it?”

“Trust me,” he said. “The absolute last thing I’m thinking of is your father.”

“Then what harm is there in kissing me?”

“If I start, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

“Why would you be afraid to stop—” Her eyes widened, her cheeks went scarlet. “Oh.”

Aidan took her hand, pressed his lips to her palm. “You’re a beautiful woman and the man who claims you will be the luckiest of them all. Unfortunately, I’m not him.”

“What if I want you to be?” she asked.

Lust pooled hard and hot in Aidan’s loins. She had no idea what she was asking. She was innocent. It was up to him to keep her that way.

“Sarah.” He tried to summon some saliva. “I’m after your father and my ship. Once I have those, I intend to spend years sailing as Sam Steele. It feels as if I’ve waited my whole life for this chance.”

“I’m not asking you to give up your dream. I’m asking you to fulfill mine.”

Holy hell. He wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. “You’ve been through a lot tonight, these past few days. You’ve only discovered the truth about your father—”

Her fingers pressed against his lips. He bore down on the desire to flick his tongue over them, suck them into his mouth.

“Like you, my father is the last thing I’m thinking about.”

She’d thrown his words back at him but he refused to be swayed. She may believe she knew what she wanted but she didn’t. Couldn’t.

“Captain must have some rum around here somewhere,” Aidan said, though it sounded more like a croak. He fled to the tiny kitchen, threw open the cabinet doors. “Thank God,” he muttered when he found three bottles in the last cupboard he checked. He pulled the cork, drank until his eyes watered.

“Is the thought of touching me so repulsive you’d rather get drunk instead?”

Aidan sputtered, set the bottle down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Honesty. He’d promised her honesty. And so he turned and looked her in the eye.

“I want to touch you more than I want my next breath. I’ve had many sleepless moments thinking of you, Sarah. But you’re innocent. Your husband deserves to have you come to the marriage bed as pure as you are right this moment.”

“Right this moment,” she said fire flickering in her eyes, “more than
my
next breath, what I want most is not to feel alone any longer. I’ve spent eighteen years alone. I don’t want to wait any longer to know what it is to be held, cherished.” She drew in a deep breath and he knew she was fighting tears. “It’s already been long enough.”

He had no idea if what he was about to do made him a saint or a sinner—he suspected the latter—but he’d seen how she’d been living and he knew, better than anyone, how cold and heartless Roche could be. He’d give her every opportunity to change her mind, at any point along the way, but, Lord help them, he was going to give her what she was asking for.

A
idan didn’t know
where to start and a mild panic tickled the back of his throat. For a moment, he was fifteen again, standing in front of the brothel where Luke had taken him. His hands wanted to shake and his heart galloped so hard his chest ached. Where to begin? What to do?

He’d eventually fumbled through it, as he imagined most boys did. While his own skills had greatly improved since he’d been that eager boy, he’d only ever bedded strumpets, women who knew what they were doing and expected nothing but coin in return. When he needed to visit them, there wasn’t any lingering. He never treated them unkindly or with force but he went in, so to speak, did what needed to be done, and went on with his evening. Or afternoon, as the case might be.

But Sarah. He exhaled deeply. He’d never bedded a virgin before. More, he’d never been with someone who mattered to him. He couldn’t simply pull down her bodice, lift her skirts and bury himself inside. While his body was primed to do just that, he would take his time. He would show her the beauty of the gift she was giving him and do his damn best to ensure she never regretted it.

He’d have much preferred his own bed on the
Revenge
but he’d had worse as well. Aidan walked to the door, locked it. He took the lamp he’d lit and used it to light a few other candles on the mantel and one next to the bed.

“Is this common practice?” Sarah asked.

She’d yet to move but he’d felt her eyes on him as he’d fussed about the room. He finished straightening the bedcovers.

“Nothing about this is common,” he answered as he walked toward her.

“Because nothing about you is common.” He kissed her, tenderly. He’d show her later how he preferred to kiss, but now was about her, what she wanted and needed.

There was something about a woman’s tresses being neatly tied up that begged for a man to unravel. She’d braided and secured her hair to hide under her hat and now, with great relish, Aidan deftly removed each and every pin. He unwove the plait and sighed as he wove his fingers through the thick weight of her hair.

“I like it when you touch me,” she said.

“I haven’t started touching you yet,” he murmured.

Drawing her hair aside, Aidan brushed his lips along the side of her neck, behind her ear. He felt the tremor skim through her body and set out to do it again. And again.

He nibbled on her neck, scraped his teeth along her jaw and when her neck went lax and her head fell back, sucked on the pulse beating at the base of her throat.

“Aidan,” she gasped.

Her fingers dug into his arms, her breath rasped through her lungs. God, he’d barely started and already he felt the fever on her skin, heard the desire thickening her voice. He bit down on the lust coiling within him, writhing with a hunger he’d never felt before.

Bloody hell, he was hot.

He drew back, his own breath more than a little unsteady. He kept his arms around her back until she tipped her head up and looked him in the eye. It didn’t hurt his pride when it took a moment for her eyes to focus.

He pulled off his leather coat and tossed it onto a chair. His sash and weapons soon followed. He reached to untie the bandana but she stopped him.

“What is it?”

“I like it. It makes you look…dangerous.”

He cocked a brow. “Danger appeals to you?”

She licked her lips. He knew she didn’t do it to tease or be seductive and, because of that, it was both. “It never did before.”

If he’d been on a ship, he’d have sworn it was sinking. He was trying to go slow, keep his footing, but her every response, her every word pulled him further and further under. Still, if he was going to drown, what better way?

He started with the coat she’d borrowed, undoing each button then easing it off her shoulders and down her arms. It landed somewhere near his, he thought. He didn’t care enough to look.

Corsets, to his mind, were wondrous things. They lifted and pressed breasts together, created tantalizing offerings of creamy flesh. He enjoyed unlacing them, considered them similar to unwrapping a present, where he couldn’t wait to get his hands on what was inside. Yet as much as he enjoyed corsets, he preferred no corsets. Aidan’s mouth watered. Sarah wore no corset.

She’d chosen a dark green shirt but even the shade of the fabric could not mask what lay beneath. High, gloriously round breasts filled the garment in a way no man could. How she’d ever believed she could pass for one he had no idea. Even with his coat he’d been betting on the night’s shadows to help cover her features. That and a whole lot of rum being consumed on the part of the pirates.

But it was only the two of them now and he didn’t want anything hidden.

“I want to see you, Sarah. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

Curling his hands into the neckline of her shirt, Aidan leaned forward, kissed her once. Lingered over the second, savoring her mouth as he would a rich dessert. Her eyes were wide when he pulled back to look at her, her mouth wet from his.

“Does that scare you?”

She shook her head. “I’m not scared of you, Aidan. I’m more afraid I’ll do something, or not do something I should and you’ll be disappointed.”

He dropped his forehead to hers, touched beyond measure. “I could never be disappointed in you.”

“Then tell me. Show me.”

The water closed over his head and Aidan let himself go.

He lost himself in her, falling deeper and deeper until the sweet embraces were no match for his building hunger. Pulling her closer he showed her how a kiss should be.

She proved to be a quick learner and soon sweat beaded his back, desire burned in his loins. And still he forced himself not to hurry.

By the time he moved to the ties on her shirt, her lips were swollen and wet and both of them were breathing as though they’d just swam around the island. Through a hurricane.

Her skin was soft and warm beneath his fingers, and he couldn’t resist touching the flesh as it became exposed. He parted the fabric and a fist of need nearly sent him to his knees.

She was prettier than a pearl and even smoother. And reason was slipping through his fingers faster than grains of sand. He was desperate to taste her. He swore he needed it more than he needed his next breath. With Sarah trembling beneath his hands, Aidan opened his mouth and kissed the curve of her breast.

*

Sarah bit her
lip. Her head was swimming and it was as though her body was no longer her own. Sensations bombarded her, one after the other, so she couldn’t catch her breath. The scrape of his stubble against the tender skin of her breast, the hot flick of his tongue when his lips returned to her neck, her mouth. The ache that was building between her legs with every touch. She wanted more. She wanted it to stop.

Then suddenly his hands were at her waist and she giggled when his fingers skimmed the tender skin of her belly. The next thing she knew her arms were over her head and her shirt was gone.