This Wicked Gift (Carhart 0.5)

Her skin tingled from his quiet confession. It had been so long since anyone had spoken to her with such devotion. She clung to him, drinking in the safety of his arms. “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.

Christopher drew back. “You saved yourself. You’re an amazing woman.”

Her hand rose to his clean-shaven cheek. The flickering glow of the lantern cast shadows around them, but the lines of worry were unmistakable.

This man had occupied her thoughts day and night. He’d defended her against sharp tongues, advised her and taken care of her despite her rejection. Now he’d saved her life.

Her lips brushed over his. The dreams she’d held at bay drifted through her mind as his mouth responded to her touch. Achingly sweet, his lips trembled, and his hands roamed over her back.

The world outside of the ship disappeared, washed away by the constant lap of waves against the hull. The dangers they’d escaped, society’s godforsaken rules, even her father faded from her thoughts. For this one night, she would allow herself a moment of happiness.

Her hands skimmed up his solid chest. The heat of his body radiated through the fine fabric, warming her fingertips. He stared down at her hands, and swallowed hard, desire smoldering in his eyes. With brazenness she didn’t realize she possessed, she unknotted his necktie and slid the cloth free, dropping it to the floor.

“Rebecca, I don’t think—”

Shrugging out of her cloak, she lifted a finger to his lips, halting his words. “I want to touch you.”

Under his watchful eye, she removed his vest and unfastened the buttons of his starched white shirt. The coin he’d worn to the masquerade ball glistened in the lamp light.

With the tip of her finger, she touched the warm metal and moved on. Her hands smoothed over his hot skin, exploring the unfamiliar contours of his bare chest, her fingers floating over the taut muscles. She reveled in the restrained power just beneath her fingertips. “You’re beautiful.”

Impulsively, she bent forward and tasted the bared hollow of his throat, and he sucked in his breath. The mild saltiness of his skin tantalized her tongue.

His hand lifted her chin, and his lips captured hers in a hungry kiss, his mouth feverish, demanding. A thrilling tremor raced from her stomach to her toes, and she parted her lips to his probing tongue, eager to experience more.

Returning the fervid play of his mouth, of his tongue, she welcomed the pleasant fog that stemmed all thought. Her insides fluttered with each small tug that trailed from her neck to her waist as Christopher freed her dress buttons. The hooks of her corset followed with a few well-placed yanks, and soon cool air touched her flesh. A shiver passed through her when his warm palm cupped her breast through her cotton chemise.

Nowhere in her mind did she think to stop him. Heaven help her, she craved his touch like a dying woman given a last chance at life.

Her hands roamed freely through his jet-black curls as his lips brushed along her jaw.

“Your scent haunts me,” he groaned, his warm exhale tickling her ear. Wet kisses and soft nips trailed down her throat.