The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(60)

Tears shimmered in Daphne’s eyes. She sat up and braced herself against the wall again. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Don’t let me stop you.’”

“No, before that. The part about my beauty and intelligence?” Her heart hammered in her chest. She could barely breathe.

He braced both of his hands on the wooden plank that hung from the ceiling above the bunk and stared down at her still. “You heard me. You deserve better than Fitzwell. But you’re so damned stubborn and certain of yourself, you can’t even see it. You need to take your bloody list and rip it into a thousand pieces just to see what’s standing right in front of you. The thing that never made it onto the list.”

“You?” she whispered.

“Me.” Rafe let go of the plank and his mouth swooped down to capture hers.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE




Daphne shuddered. Rafe’s mouth shaped hers, owned hers, while lust shot through her entire body in sharp, shooting sparks. He had moved down to where she sat on the bed and she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss with everything she had. Who cared how this had started? All she knew was that she wanted it to continue. She wanted to make love with Rafe. She wanted to be his wife in every way.

What happened next was most likely the doing of two very fuzzy heads because five moments later, Daphne’s shirt was over her head, her breeches unbuttoned and yanked free of her body, and the linen wrapping her breasts was gone. She lay in the bunk naked. She was completely exposed in a way she had never been in front of any man before but all she could feel was … happiness and excitement.

Rafe was gazing at her, his eyes full of desire, his breathing completely unsteady. His hand rested on her knee, hot, heavy. His fingers traced up the inside of her thigh, the outside of her hip, along her rib cage.

He gently, lightly touched the outside of her left breast. Then his fingertips skimmed over her nipple and she shivered with desire. His hand traveled up to her collarbone, her neck, her cheekbone. Daphne closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of his rough touch along her sensitive skin. He had the hands of a man who had worked for a living. Not the soft hands of Lord Fitzwell. Rafe had actually done things like throwing knives and shooting pistols and riding horses and nearly dying for his country. He was right. He was nothing like Lord Fitzwell. Nothing at all.

Rafe groaned deep in his throat and lowered himself over her. He was still wearing his breeches and stockings. His hot bare chest pressed intimately to hers and made Daphne moan. The friction between them was so good. She wrapped her arms around his neck again and he kissed her deeply. Daphne’s head remained fuzzy and she was a swirling mass of lust. The spot between her legs ached and throbbed.

She pushed her legs apart and clenched her eyes shut. Cass and Lucy had mentioned that the first time would hurt a bit. “I’m ready,” she announced, scrunching up her nose and bracing a hand against the wall.

Rafe’s laughter was the last thing she expected. But it was there, loud and melodious, bouncing off the wooden sides of the small cabin. She cracked open an eye. “What’s funny about this?”

He nudged at her with his nose and kissed one eyelid, then the other. “Nothing, my darling.”

“Why are you laughing?” she asked, chagrined, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to push him away. His hot hardness between her legs and the warm heat and weight of his chest against hers were too compelling.

He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t quite— Let’s just say there’s more to it than my pouncing on you. Not to mention if I were to make love to you, I might find myself in a thousand little pieces once your brother finds out.”

She wiggled against him and Rafe closed his eyes briefly. “Daphne, please,” he whispered.

“I didn’t expect you to pounce, but aren’t you supposed to…?” She trailed off in abject embarrassment, not even certain of the right words to use in such a circumstance. She wasn’t worried about Julian. She had no doubt that getting Rafe to this point was all she needed. There’d be little chance he’d stop if they continued to do what they were doing. “I have no intention of telling Julian anything about this,” she said with a coy smile.

Rafe leaned down and kissed her again and all the thoughts fluttered straight from her brain. “Whatever we do, it’s supposed to feel good … and happen naturally,” he said. “Most importantly, feel good.”

“I like the sound of that,” she admitted, kissing the cleft in his chin softly.

He pushed a curl away from her ear and leaned down and traced the outline of it with his tongue. Daphne bucked against him. “Let me make you feel good, Daphne,” he whispered.

“Yes” was her only reply.

He moved down, his lips a hot brand against her cheek, her neck, her collarbone. Daphne wrapped her arms around his shoulders. How could his mouth on her neck feel so good? She’d never imagined it. His lips moved lower, next. They nipped at the top of her breast. Then Daphne gasped as the hot wetness settled over her nipple. “Oh my God,” she moaned. His smile burned against her soft skin. His mouth played with her, biting and tracing small patterns against the fevered skin of her breast. “You’re perfect, do you know that?” he whispered.

“No I’m not.”