Chapter One
London, November 1813
He rose naked from the surf, his wet, sleekly muscled body glistening in the Caribbean sun. Framed against the brilliant turquoise sea, he looked like some pagan god. Yet he was no god. He was the pirate who had stolen her virtue and then her heart.
Heat and vitality and danger throbbed from him as he stood spread-legged on the crystalline white beach, commander of all he surveyed. His engorged male flesh clearly proclaimed his arousal and made her breath falter.
As if he heard her soft gasp, his dark gaze riveted on her. She felt ravished each time he looked at her, even though she couldn’t make out his features. She could never see his face, only his dark eyes that were intense and burning.
He came to her then, purpose defined in every lithe stride. The sand was warm at her back as he bore her down, his hungry mouth hot as it claimed hers.
His kiss was ravaging, not in force but in effect; his touch dangerously, wildly sensual as his hands roamed over her at will.
He drank of her mouth, then shifted his caresses lower, gentle and ruthless at once. Pressing her head back, he kissed the arch of her throat, her collarbone, her naked breasts… His lips felt hotter than the sun on her bare skin, the blistering heat searing her flesh. He captured a nipple and suckled hard, shooting arrows of pleasure downward to her moist, feminine center.
She whimpered and parted her legs for him, sighing as he nestled his swollen sex against her softness, the throbbing ache between her thighs soothed and aroused at once.
“Please…” she pleaded.
Understanding her urgent need, he slid himself relentlessly within her, his huge shaft filling her, making her want to weep with ecstasy.
But then he went still, denying her the release she craved. The hot darkness of his gaze pinned her as surely as his pulsing masculine flesh impaled her.
“How can you wed him?” he demanded roughly. “How can you think to give yourself to him?”
“I must. I have no choice. I swore a solemn promise.”
His intense gaze burned into hers. “Your duke is cold, passionless. He cannot make you feel what I do. He cannot make your blood run hot as I can.”
She turned her head aside, knowing all he said was true. She felt a sense of desperation at the thought of her impending marriage. She wanted to forget…and yet her pirate would not allow her.
His hand clenched in her hair, his teeth bared in savage insistence. “You belong to me, only to me. You are mine, do you heed me? And I am yours. You created me.”
His possessiveness thrilled and excited her. “Yes,” she said simply.
He withdrew his slick shaft and sank forcefully into her again, thrusting completely home. “When you go to him, I will be the one you remember. My touch, my taste, my hard flesh driving deep inside you, making you cry out with need.”
“Yes. Yes…only you.”
She pulled his mouth down to hers, needing to taste him, feel him…
The fierce intimacy of his body locked into hers and he began to move again, taking her, claiming her. He wasn’t tender, but she wanted no tenderness. Instead she lifted her hips to meet his deep thrusts, answering him with all the vigor in her trembling form.
“More,” he urged hoarsely against her mouth. “Give me more. Surrender…”