Lie to Me (Pearl Island Trilogy #4)(34)

“Of course it’s not what I want.” He realized she thought he was too old-fashioned to sleep with a girl until they’d dated for a while. Great. That made him not just a geek, but an uptight geek. Gritting his teeth, he let the hunger coursing through him show. “What I want to do is carry you inside and ravage you as if I really were a pirate.”

“Then do it,” she dared him. “Just do it.”

When excitement flared in her eyes, he knew she meant it. If he walked away now, she’d take it as a slap of rejection. To hell with that. He’d figure out how to tell her later. Bending forward, he tossed her over his shoulder.

Her gasp of shock turned to laughter as he strode to the door and carried her inside. He kicked the door closed behind him, then stopped. She’d left a lamp on, but shadows filled the corners. He glanced down a short dark hall, wondering which door led to her bedroom.

Apparently realizing his dilemma, she planted a hand on his rump to lever herself up and pointed toward the door on the right. “That way.”

“Got it.”

He carried her into a dark bedroom. Moonlight streamed through sheer curtains, illuminating a queen-size bed with lots of pillows and a turned-down comforter. He tossed her into the middle of it. She landed on her side, her shirt falling open to reveal her toned torso. Laughing, she flipped onto her back, then went still when she looked up at him. Whatever she saw on his face, in his eyes, made her mouth round into a little O.

God, the way she looked at him made him feel like a conquering warrior. He sucked in a breath to stop himself from pouncing on her.

She pushed herself onto her elbows, which made her shirt fall completely open. Her gaze traveled down his body, then slowly back up. “So, captain, is that all ye plan to do with me?”

The suggestive question, spoken in a saucy accent, sent a shaft of excitement knifing through him. Holy crap. Did she want him to take her as if he were Captain Blade? Last night, she hadn’t liked Blade at all. Right now, though, she looked as if that was exactly what she wanted him to be. It didn’t make sense.

Her eyes grew sultry. “I think,” she said in a low voice, “you’re just a tad overdressed”—she licked her lower lip—“for a pirate.”

His heart nearly stopped. Who gave a shit if it made sense?

He started to rip off his shirt as fast as humanly possible, but stopped himself. If she wanted Blade, that’s what he’d give her. Forcing himself to slow down, he pulled the shirt up his torso, his gaze never leaving her face. “Aye, and you’re a saucy wench, aren’t you?”

A wicked grin turned up the corners of her mouth as her gaze dropped to his hard abs. The gleam in her eyes made every hour in the gym worth it. “I have a feeling you like saucy wenches.”

“Indeed, I do.” He pulled the shirt off and sent it sailing toward a dark corner. “Now you’re the one who’s overdressed.”

With fluid grace, she rose onto her knees, her body so close to his, he could feel the heat building between them. She placed a single fingertip on the center of his chest and drew it slowly down. Need rippled through him at her touch. She stopped just above the button of his pants, and his erection jumped against the fly, eager to be free.

“I thought”—her gaze flicked up to his eyes—“pirates liked to take what they wanted.”

Spurred on by the invitation, he took her head in both hands and covered her mouth for a demanding kiss. Their breaths had turned labored by the time he raised his head. Letting his eyes feast on her, he slipped his hands under her shirt at both shoulders, then skimmed his palms down her arms, taking her shirt with them. He’d seen her on the beach yesterday wearing less than this, but dear God, even then she hadn’t looked this gorgeous.

Trembling inside, he cupped her jaw, lowered his mouth to hers, and lost himself in another kiss, this one as worshipful as it was ravenous.

Her nimble fingers unbuttoned his pants and lowered the fly. He returned the favor, helping her wiggle out of her capris, both of them taking time to caress, admire, and taste. Finally, he stood before her totally nude, while she still wore her bra and panties.

He had just enough brain power to retrieve the condom from his wallet before pressing her down onto the bed. He hovered over her, his hands caressing her breasts, his lips sampling the bare skin right where it disappeared under the bra.

She reached between her breasts and undid the clasp, then smiled up at him.

“Bold wench,” he said, praising her.

“Bold pirate,” she corrected.

With a throaty chuckle, he lowered his mouth to her breasts. Her moan sent him toward the edge. Fearing he’d come before he even got inside her, he pulled her panties down her slim, shapely legs.

Skin to skin at last, he lost himself in exploring her, sampling her, learning what made her gasp with pleasure and writhe with need. Any remnants of self-doubt or hesitation fell away as he wrung one gratifying response after another from her. Her hands explored him with equal abandon, urging him on.

Giving in to his own need, he worked his way down her stomach, nibbling and kissing, until he reached the juncture of her legs.

“Yes,” she panted as he parted her thighs and tasted her desire. She lifted her hips to meet him.

When an orgasm hit her, he rode it with her, driving her for every whimper he could elicit. The freedom of her response pushed the emotions expanding inside him from lust to mind-blowing liberation. He could do this with her, be anything he wanted to be. Everything he wanted to be.