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.
She eased down farther, trailing her tongue over his chest.
“Where are you going, sweetheart?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “On an adventure.”
Tristan stared at the heat in her eyes and was surprised he didn’t ignite. Although he was hot enough to do it on his own without any further prompting from her.
From the beginning he had wanted her, but nothing had prepared him for the urgency and the desire that propelled him tonight. Perhaps it was because he knew what she offered, perhaps it was because he had been denied her for so long—
Or perhaps it was because he knew he would never again have her.
He had decided this would be their final parting, and he hated the thought of it almost as much as he hated the idea of staying in England. Of being shackled to the land.
He’d been surprised when she’d not objected to his taking the ship from the harbor, to bringing them out on the sea. He had fully intended to sail through the night, to keep her with him until he was done with her. She might think she didn’t want to see the world, but she did. How could she not? Especially when it involved being in his arms every night.
But she trusted him, dammit. Believed him to be a better man than he was, a man who kept promises even when they didn’t benefit him. He’d hoped his bidding so outrageously on her this evening would provide enough gossip to discourage Chetwyn’s suit, but now he realized the selfishness of it. He couldn’t have her forever. He was a bastard to deny her a chance at the sort of life she craved.
Yet she seemed not to comprehend what an absolute blackguard he was, because wedged between his legs, she moved even lower. His breath stuttered, his hands fisted in the sheets. “Anne,” he croaked.
Once more she lifted her gaze and he saw triumph there. Then she gave him a saucy look before lowering her mouth—
He bucked as the heat of her mouth enveloped him.
“Christ!” He plowed one hand into her hair while the other kept him anchored to the bed. Pressing his head back against the pillow, he watched her working her magic. Only one thing felt better and that was being buried deeply inside of her. He wanted to beg, plead with her to never do this to another man. It would drive him to madness to envision her with someone else.
Damnation, he should order the sails hoisted. He should set a course to the far side of the world. He should keep her with him—
But she would hate him and her sweet mouth would never do such naughty things again.
Pleasure and pain rippled through him. Pleasure brought on by her energetic ministrations; pain because he didn’t deserve what she was so willing to give. He’d wanted to deny her a future with another man.
And now he knew he had to let her go.
“Anne.” Reaching down, he brought her up until she straddled his hips. He guided himself into her before urging her down for a kiss. He thought he tasted himself on her lips. No one had ever given him as much as she had. In such a short time, she’d given him everything.
She rode him as though her very life depended on it. He knew his did. Straightening, she skimmed her hands over his chest while her hips rocked in tandem to his. He cupped her breasts, stroked and massaged—