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Read Online Between A Rake And A Hard Place [Pirates of London Book 2] by Emma Wildes writing as Annabel Wolfe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emma Wildes writing as Annabel Wolfe
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gentlemanly one, more one based on self-preservation and good sense. Honor is an abstract concept, and I treat it that way.”
“Is that why you haven’t touched me yet? Because you have no honor?” She moved slightly closer and he took in a deep breath. “Is that why you risked your life to save mine?”
“God save me from overly romantic young ladies,” he murmured, but her mouth was so temptingly close and those luscious breasts almost touching his chest and he…
…well, he was not made out of honed steel evidently.
He lowered his head and kissed her.
The mistake of a lifetime. Her lips were soft and warm and delicious, her response unskilled but flatteringly acquiescent, and he repressed a low groan when her arms slid around his neck.
He’d lived most of his life by his wits and instincts and this was an exceedingly bad idea.
And yet he was going to do it anyway. From that first moment he saw her—never mind her state of undress and undeniable beauty—he’d reacted to her. To the courage and resilience in her part of her rescue, to the remarkable acceptance of her circumstances without complaint, she was every inch a lady, but luckily, not a spoiled ingénue like so many of her contemporaries.
Beautiful. Intelligent. Absolutely captivating.
His hands spanned her waist, balancing them both against the subtle rock of the ship. Already his erection swelled against the material of his breeches, and he angled his head to allow better access and murmured against her lips, “Let me in.”
It was clear she didn’t understand until he ran his tongue along her lower lip and then almost as if in surprise, she opened her mouth and he was able to kiss her fully, like a lover, his tongue sliding against hers, exploring, demanding and yet giving at the same time.
She was startled, but he was gratified to find she adjusted to the intimacy quickly, her hands sliding down his back.
If she thought that was intimate, he could show her something oh-so much more.
Whenhefinally lifted his head, Christopher said huskily, “If you are sure about what comes next, Lady Cassandra, I wasted my time buttoning your gown. Let me disrobe you.”
She stared up at him for a moment, her arms loosening their hold. “I’m sure.”
He touched her chin. “This will require more faith than the leap from the window of the seraglio. I am offering one last time to give you the option of asking me to leave. As tempting as you are, you have my word I will go.”
Her smile was both tremulous and full of womanly power. “And you say you have no honor.”
His answering smile was wry. “I never said that. I said that I have my own interpretation of it. Usually that includes staying as far away from the innocent daughters of influential men as much as possible.”
“But for me you’ll make an exception?” Her brows rose and she laughed. “I am immensely flattered, Mr. Ives.”
“Call me Christopher.” He backed her toward the bed, their bodies in a subtle, seductive dance. “I think formality is a ridiculous affectation.”
“Then call me Cassie. My close friends do.”
And he intended to be very close indeed.
He tumbled her on her back against the soft linens of the bed and kissed her again. She was a natural siren, no artifice, and when he settled on top of her, she gazed at him with a level of trust he found disconcerting.
And somehow arousing.
“I shouldn’t do this,” he said more tersely than he intended.
“But you want to.” She touched his face, just the merest brush of her fingers.
“Oh yes.” He moved enough she could feel the length of his erection. “I am sure you can tell I want to very much.”
“I have no idea of what to do next.”
“I am all too aware of that.” Christopher slid his hand down to her breast. “Have no fear, I’ll be happy to instruct you every step of the way.”
* * * *
She’d always thought of herself as demure and essentially the proper young English lady, but
“Is that why you haven’t touched me yet? Because you have no honor?” She moved slightly closer and he took in a deep breath. “Is that why you risked your life to save mine?”
“God save me from overly romantic young ladies,” he murmured, but her mouth was so temptingly close and those luscious breasts almost touching his chest and he…
…well, he was not made out of honed steel evidently.
He lowered his head and kissed her.
The mistake of a lifetime. Her lips were soft and warm and delicious, her response unskilled but flatteringly acquiescent, and he repressed a low groan when her arms slid around his neck.
He’d lived most of his life by his wits and instincts and this was an exceedingly bad idea.
And yet he was going to do it anyway. From that first moment he saw her—never mind her state of undress and undeniable beauty—he’d reacted to her. To the courage and resilience in her part of her rescue, to the remarkable acceptance of her circumstances without complaint, she was every inch a lady, but luckily, not a spoiled ingénue like so many of her contemporaries.
Beautiful. Intelligent. Absolutely captivating.
His hands spanned her waist, balancing them both against the subtle rock of the ship. Already his erection swelled against the material of his breeches, and he angled his head to allow better access and murmured against her lips, “Let me in.”
It was clear she didn’t understand until he ran his tongue along her lower lip and then almost as if in surprise, she opened her mouth and he was able to kiss her fully, like a lover, his tongue sliding against hers, exploring, demanding and yet giving at the same time.
She was startled, but he was gratified to find she adjusted to the intimacy quickly, her hands sliding down his back.
If she thought that was intimate, he could show her something oh-so much more.
Whenhefinally lifted his head, Christopher said huskily, “If you are sure about what comes next, Lady Cassandra, I wasted my time buttoning your gown. Let me disrobe you.”
She stared up at him for a moment, her arms loosening their hold. “I’m sure.”
He touched her chin. “This will require more faith than the leap from the window of the seraglio. I am offering one last time to give you the option of asking me to leave. As tempting as you are, you have my word I will go.”
Her smile was both tremulous and full of womanly power. “And you say you have no honor.”
His answering smile was wry. “I never said that. I said that I have my own interpretation of it. Usually that includes staying as far away from the innocent daughters of influential men as much as possible.”
“But for me you’ll make an exception?” Her brows rose and she laughed. “I am immensely flattered, Mr. Ives.”
“Call me Christopher.” He backed her toward the bed, their bodies in a subtle, seductive dance. “I think formality is a ridiculous affectation.”
“Then call me Cassie. My close friends do.”
And he intended to be very close indeed.
He tumbled her on her back against the soft linens of the bed and kissed her again. She was a natural siren, no artifice, and when he settled on top of her, she gazed at him with a level of trust he found disconcerting.
And somehow arousing.
“I shouldn’t do this,” he said more tersely than he intended.
“But you want to.” She touched his face, just the merest brush of her fingers.
“Oh yes.” He moved enough she could feel the length of his erection. “I am sure you can tell I want to very much.”
“I have no idea of what to do next.”
“I am all too aware of that.” Christopher slid his hand down to her breast. “Have no fear, I’ll be happy to instruct you every step of the way.”
* * * *
She’d always thought of herself as demure and essentially the proper young English lady, but
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