Brazen and the Beast (The Bareknuckle Bastards #2)(104)

She pulled back to look into his dark, promising eyes. “Really?”

He raised a brow. “Are you happy to hear of the affliction?”

“Yes.”

He laughed at her instant reply. “Well then, yes, Hattie. I was hard with the thought of you, with being inside you, with coming inside you, with staying inside you forever. And I wanted you back so I could tell you just how much I wanted you, and just how little of a chore making love to you would be.”

She smirked. “That sounds quite excellent.”

“I am happy to have had a chance to delight you, my lady.” He pulled her close for another kiss. “But you should know, Odysseus was a hero. And I am not.” And another. “He wanted to resist. I don’t. I want it all. I want every inch of you. It’s all I’ve thought of since the moment you left. Since before.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Christ, Hattie. I want all of it. I would happily be tied to a mast if it meant I could have a taste of my deepest fantasies. Which all feature you.”

She went hot at the words, at the vision they heralded, of this magnificent man, tied to the mast not three feet away. Her gaze flickered to it, and when she looked back at him, he groaned his pleasure. “Fuck, Hattie. You’re imagining it. I can see it in your eyes.”

She looked to him, knowing she should deny it. Instead, she said, “I am quite good with knots.”

He exhaled a long “Ahhhh . . .” And then, impossibly, flashed her a dark grin. “Prove it.”

Her eyes went wide. “You cannot mean . . .”

He pulled her close. “The other night, it was for you. But tonight. This . . . what if I told you it was for me?” The words became a low rumble. “Tie me to the mast, Siren; let me hear you sing.”





Chapter Twenty-Three


It wasn’t forever, she knew. She kept telling herself that as he backed away from her, without taking his eyes off her.

She followed without hesitation. It wasn’t forever, she reminded herself, again and again, because this man—this magnificent man—was making her feel like forever might be possible. Like their past and her family’s actions and the fact that he was in the way of all of her dreams didn’t matter in the least, because he was about to let her take her pleasure in ways she’d never imagined.

Never imagined, because she’d never even known such a man, such a moment, was possible. But they were possible. They were possible right now, as he stripped his greatcoat away with a lack of care, letting it fall to the deck.

She cast a look about the ship, grateful for the lowered center deck and the darkness of the docks, emptied of people that night. And still, she said, “We could be seen.”

“Unlikely, as someone has cleared the docks for this particular temptation.” He dropped his topcoat at his feet, revealing his knives, the leather holster crisscrossing his vest and the lawn shirt beneath. Unable to stop herself, Hattie reached for him; he froze as her fingers traced the leather straps.

“You’re missing one.” He stiffened, and she wondered where he’d left it. Why. But there would be time for that later. Now, there was only time for this. She met his gaze. “Let me?”

He sucked in a breath as she stroked along the wide band crossing his torso to work at the brass buckle there with a firm, sure touch, as though she’d done it a hundred times before. She’d certainly dreamed of doing it a hundred times before. When it was done, she slid the straps from his broad shoulders and down his strong arms, and settled the weapons carefully at their feet.

She stepped back, assessing him, and he swore in the darkness. “Hattie, you look like you’ve plans for me.”

She lifted her eyes to his. “In fact, I do.”

He exhaled harshly. “Make haste, love.”

She came forward and pulled his shirt from his trousers, loving the way he moved with her, helping, his muscles flexing with pleasure at every brush of her fingers. He took it from her hands, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the deck, and reached for her, pulling her in for another kiss. She gave herself up to it, her hands roaming down over his chest, her palm sliding flat along his skin until his stomach muscles tightened beneath her touch and he hissed his desire.

She nipped at his full bottom lip and pulled back. “Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m hot as the fucking sun,” he said, hauling her in for another kiss. “Now, about those plans . . .”

She laughed and slid her fingers through his own, lifting them over their heads, to a hook on the mast, where the trailing ends of the ropes that worked the mainsails were neatly coiled. She didn’t have to tell him to clasp that hook. Didn’t have to tell him to keep his hands there. Not even when she backed away from him.

“Where are you going?” he growled, not liking the way she pulled away from him.

Hattie smiled, circling the mast until she found what she was looking for, a length of rope that had come unmoored since the ship had been docked. Returning to face him, close enough to feel his heat, she leaned up and wrapped the rope around his wrists, carefully, so it did not chafe even as she tied a perfect knot.

He grunted as she stepped away and he tested the bindings, his eyes coming to hers. “You like this.”

“Very, very much.” There was nothing not to like. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, all long limbs and thick muscles, the image of him making her mouth water—and the desire in his eyes making her ache to touch him again.