Just One Kiss (21 page)

His voice grew husky in remembrance.

"Most of the crew looked forward to docking and getting back to shore. But what I loved most was leaving port, the power of the ship gathering speed, watching the bow cleave the waves, hearing the sails clap like thunder. There was nothing like it—feeling the breeze in my hair, my skin scraped by the wind, the scent of brine heavy in the air."

A vivid picture bloomed in her mind, yet all she could feel was the rush of his breath in her hair, the warmth of his skin against her own, the familiar scent of bay rum swirling all around.

Silence reigned briefly. "I suppose you look down on that," he said after a moment.

There was an odd note in his tone, a note she'd never heard before. Elizabeth frowned, twisting slightly so that she could see his face. "What?" she asked.

"The fact that while there is nothing common about you, Lady Elizabeth, you are married to a man who was once a common sailor."

Her gaze searched his profile. The muscles of his forearms had grown stiff as a board. Though he revealed nothing of his feelings, she sensed that her answer—this very moment—was somehow important.

To both of them.

"Not at all," she stated with unshakable resolve. "You were only a boy when you went to sea, yet you faced the future alone and unafraid. I admire your courage."

He stared at her, so long and so hard, she grew uncertain beneath such penetrating intensity. He made no move to kiss her, as she thought he might—as she wanted him to!

Her emotions careened in every direction. Indeed, why should he? she thought wildly. He hadn't wanted to marry her. He'd been thrown into it, every bit as much as she. She was coming to know her husband, and he was not a man to shirk duty. He owed her nothing, yet he had done the right thing—the honorable thing—and married her. And in so doing, he had sacrificed his own happiness.

She inhaled deeply, tried to smile and failed abominably. "I'm sorry," she said shakily. "I've bungled things rather badly, haven't I? I've not only made a mess of my own life, but yours and Nathaniel's."

Heavy jet brows drew together. "Elizabeth—"

"No, please. I-I need to say this. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say, except… I'm sorry. If it weren't for me, most likely you'd be with her"—a sharp pain ripped through her heart— "why, this very instant, no doubt."

Morgan's brow was furrowed. "Who?"

She averted her face. "The woman at the opera." She faltered. "Of course, I can see why. She—she's very beautiful, you know."

Gentle fingers curled beneath her chin. Slowly he guided her face to his. "She's not my mistress, Elizabeth."

She shook her head. "Please," she said, her voice very low. "I'd rather not know—"

"I
want
you to know," he countered. "I've let you believe something that was not true, and for that,
I
must apologize. But I want you to know the truth."

The truth. Why was she so afraid of it? Her heart was thudding so hard, her chest hurt. She didn't want the truth, didn't he see that? It would hurt too much. Yet there was something in his eyes, something so compelling she lost the will to stop him. Nor could she tear her gaze away.

He hadn't released her chin. Now the pad of his thumb swept back and forth along the delicate line of her jaw, a tentative caress.

His gaze was chained to hers. "I won't lie to you, Elizabeth. We had a relationship, she and I. But what we shared was purely physical, a mutual enjoyment of each other's bodies. But I haven't touched her, not in the way that you think, since the day you walked into my house."

The world seemed to reel and pitch. "But all those nights you've been gone… I thought you were with her—"

He was adamant. "I wasn't. When I first started my business, I often worked well into the night, so I put a cot in the room next to my office. I hadn't used it in years, until just lately."

Dazed, she gave a slight shake of her head. "So that's where you were? All those nights you've been gone, you were there?"

He nodded, his gaze chained to hers. "At first it was because I was angry, angry because you denied me. Then later, the temptation of having you so near was overpowering. You wanted a lock installed. I began to think you were right, because I didn't trust myself. So I did the only thing I could think of. I stayed away."

Elizabeth was speechless.

"God, if you knew the hours I lay awake in that room, thinking about you." His voice had gone very low. "Wanting you so much sometimes, I thought I'd go crazy."

He wanted her.
He wanted her
. It seemed impossible. Unbelievable. Yet even while her mind still sought to grasp all he told her, her body displayed a will of its own. Suddenly her hand was on the raspy plane of his cheek. Her fingertips moved, the merest caress.

"Truly?" she whispered.

He stood with her in his arms, then placed her on the floor before him. Her feet were planted squarely between his. His hands kept possession of her waist.

He nodded, his expression very grave as it searched hers. "I could show you"—his gaze delved deep into hers—"if you'll let me."

«
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All at once she was shaking from head to toe. She stared at the hollow of his throat where a tangle of hair grew dark and thick. "How?" The question came out before she could stop it.

He leveled on her a gaze of quiet intensity. "I think you already know, Elizabeth."

She did, and though she fought against it, her eyes shied away in mute confusion. She wanted to be close to him, to have him hold her tight and strong, not just in comfort, but in the heat of passion. And yet, a part of her was consumed with doubt.

One strong hand slid up to her nape. His touch was warm and strangely reassuring. A finger beneath her chin, he tipped her face to his. The kiss bestowed upon her lips was slow and undemanding, immeasurably patient. His touch was like a drug, a drug she had to have or die. She twined her arms around his neck and clung to him shamelessly. Over and over he kissed her until her limbs felt as if they were melting.

She had no recollection of being carried to the bedroom. The next thing she knew, she felt the softness of the mattress beneath her. Morgan stretched out beside her, the pressure of his mouth now sweetly fierce. Her lips parted, an unconscious invitation. He made a faint sound and caught the flutter of her breath deep in his throat.

"I want you," he said against her lips. "I want to feel you naked against me, your skin against mine."

Need vibrated in his voice. An undeniable thrill shot through her. Though her heart bounded clear to her throat, she made no protest as his hand deftly worked the buttons at the back of her gown. Cool air rushed over her as he tugged the bodice down to her waist, over her hips, until she was clad in only her camisole and petticoats. A flicker of fear fringed the edges of her mind, a fear she managed to push aside.

But when his hand went to the ribbon tied between her breasts, she stiffened.

Slowly he raised his head. "What?" he queried softly. "What's wrong?"

Her hand half lifted, a tenuous gesture that matched her feelings. "I-I want this," she quavered. "Truly I do. But I'm…"

She couldn't finish. Time swung away endlessly.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Morgan had yet to withdraw. His knuckles touched the silken valley between her breasts. Her mouth dry as dust, Elizabeth was quiveringly aware of the tension in his fingers. For a mind-splitting instant she thought he would ruthlessly cast aside her reticence.

His eyes snared hers. "Afraid?" he finished quietly.

Images of him plunging inside her flashed inside her head. "I-I don't want to be. I-I like it when you kiss me. I feel… carried away. And I like—being held by you. It's just that I can't help but remember—"

"I know." He cut her off. His expression was faintly grim.

"Perhaps it's me. Perhaps there's something wrong with me that such a thing happened." Elizabeth shook her head, her voice half-strangled. "But there was blood—"

"Only the first time, Elizabeth, only the first time. And there's nothing wrong with you, I swear." He moved then. Strong fingers captured her fluttering hand and brought it to his lips. Holding her gaze, he rubbed his cheek against her knuckles.

"I would very much like to hold you, too, Elizabeth. And I don't mean to frighten you, but I would very much like to hold you naked in my arms. With nothing between us, Elizabeth. Not your clothes, or mine. No shame or regret. But especially, no fear."

"But—that's not all you want!" Her cry emerged unbidden.

"No. But it would be different this time, Elizabeth. I promise, it wouldn't be the same at all." His voice grew low and intense. "There would be no pain, only pleasure."

Caught squarely between desire and desperation, Elizabeth could neither agree nor disagree. The silence seemed to go on and on forever.

It was Morgan who broke it. "Would it make it easier if I were the one who undressed first?"

Elizabeth drew a deep, fractured breath. "Yes. No." It all tumbled out in a rush. "Oh, please forgive me, but I—I just don't know!"

Morgan stayed poised above her. The tension escalated to a screaming pitch. Just when she thought she could stand it no longer, he rose, moving to stand near the fireplace. His features remained somber, yet nonetheless determined.

No words passed between them. Indeed, none were needed.

As if he had all the time in the world, he began to undress, the outline of his form bathed in the hazy glow of the lamplight shining in the corner. He didn't face her directly; instead he gazed out the window. Little by little, he bared himself to her, to watch as she wished.

And God help her, she couldn't look away. Her eyes locked helplessly on his body. His shoulders seemed wide as the doorway, the muscles of his back cleanly sculpted, his skin like smooth walnut. He stepped from his trousers, his buttocks tight and round. Slowly—deliberately—he turned to face her.

His body awakened… before her very eyes.

Elizabeth inhaled sharply. Between the crease of his hips, his manhood stood rigidly erect, stiff and swollen. What he wanted to do simply was not possible. She could almost feel him prodding against her once more, inside her, tearing through delicate flesh.

She jerked her head away. Yet still she could see the shape of him even with her eyes averted, starkly raw and masculine.

"No, Elizabeth. Don't look away."

Words failed her—and courage too. There was a rustle, and then the mattress dipped as he resumed his place beside her. He touched her nowhere, yet she felt as if he did.

She looked at the wall, the ceiling, everywhere but at him.

His voice stole through the quiet. "Am I truly so ugly that you cannot stand the sight of me?"

"You are not ugly. Indeed, you are quite handsome." Her reply came unthinkingly.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

She did then, albeit reluctantly. He was propped on his elbow, facing her. Morgan couldn't help but notice her gaze strayed no lower than his nose.

"That's better," he said softly. "Now then, I have a proposition to put to you. If you are uncomfortable with anything I do, you have only to ask and I will stop."

Her tongue came out to moisten her lips. "You will?"

"I did before, didn't I?" He knew from her expression that if he hadn't been so utterly serious, she would have doubted him. God, if she only knew how he ached for her! In every pore of his skin. Through every bone in his body. Secretly he prayed this was the right thing to do; more important, the right
time
to do it. Because if it wasn't, he was very much afraid that this time he would
not
be able to stop.

"I think it's reasonably safe to say that your experience with men—
naked
men—has been rather limited. So I have a suggestion, Elizabeth. Why not indulge your curiosity?"

Her eyes flew wide. "I am hardly curious!" she blurted. "Indeed, I've seen far more than I imagined I should ever see."

He chuckled. But then the laughter faded from his eyes. "Then indulge
me
," he said quietly. Slowly, giving her time to withdraw if she wanted, he brought her hand to rest on his side, near his waist. "Tell me, Elizabeth. Is this so frightful?"

"No," she said promptly.

"And this?" Holding his breath, he coasted her hand to the center of his chest. Even when he lifted his own, she didn't retreat. Instead her fingers uncurled, tangling through the dense, dark hair, barely grazing his skin.

Progress, he decided with satisfaction.

Lightly enclosing her wrist, he guided her hand to his mouth. She needed no urging to keep her fingertips pressed against the center of his lower lip.

His eyes captured hers. "And this? Does this frighten you?"

"No. But then, you already know I like it when you kiss me."

A surge of hot possessiveness surged through him. He had to stop himself from clenching his jaw. Lord, if she only knew how she inflamed him! "And I would like it if you would kiss
me
," he said gravely.

"Now?"

The word was a mere squeak of sound; her round-eyed expression was precious. He bit back a smile.

"Now," he invited, easing to his back.

Surprisingly, he didn't have long to wait. Leaning over him, she pressed her lips to his. Morgan held himself very still, allowing her to taste as she would. It was she who touched her tongue to his. Raw heat splintered through him. His manhood jumped, but thank heaven, she didn't notice. His own tongue joined the play, lightly sparring.

For Elizabeth it was like nothing she'd ever experienced. They kissed endlessly, slow and deep and rousing; lost in the moment, lost in each other, lost in the feeling. And this time no protest broke from her lips when he flicked aside the edges of her camisole.

Because suddenly it was all she wanted as well—to lie against him, her breasts against the furry roughness of his chest, her hips bound tightly against his. Soon she was as naked as he.

With his thumbs he flicked the stiffened tightness of her nipples. She arched her breasts into the warm roughness of his palms. She thought she would die of sheer want as he brushed his lips over the naked mound of one breast. Heat rose, a spiraling tide within her. At last he gave her what she wanted. His tongue delicately touched the dark, straining center. Lashing. Circling. Teasing. She caught his head in her hands, threading her fingers through the silken darkness of his hair as he finally took her into his mouth and sucked strongly.