Seduced by a Pirate by Eloisa James Page B

of her, he actually had an iron grip over himself. He would not lose control until he had wiped out the memory of Colin’s father, so that his wife never thought of the man—whoever he was—again.
    He’d reached her breast, so he licked and nuzzled and suckled until she was begging him wordlessly, her arms trying to pull him closer, her legs clenching together. “Please,” she kept begging. And then commanding, “Now, Griffin!”
    There was no reason to obey her, not this time, so he kept on going, down past the curve of her stomach. He glanced up to see a horrified expression on his wife’s face.
    That just made him grin. Apparently, there was something he could teach her in the bedroom. He was skilled . . . she was a woman . . . the outcome was inevitable. And she was wildly responsive, after she got over her initial qualms.
    In fact, it was a mere moment before she screamed, her body twisting up before she fell into a surprised, limp heap. He didn’t stop. He was reveling in the pure carnality of her lusciousness, in her sleek, wet beauty. So he bent his head and started over with a wantonly sensual kiss, one that broke every rule and demanded utter surrender.
    Phoebe surrendered, oh so sweetly. He let the pirate side of him enjoy holding her down, pleasuring her even as she tried to pull him up.
    He kept going until her breath was coming in little sobs, her body bucking against his, her eyes glazed.
    Then he brought his hand into play, and with just a rough caress and a twist of his fingers, her whole sweet little body tightened around his fingers and she screamed again, falling apart.
    It was time.
    He came up and over her, pausing for a moment to enjoy the sweet triumph of knowing every luscious inch of her was suffused in pleasure. Her skin stretched like the finest silk over her bones, sweet and creamy, without even a freckle.
    Or, more to the point, the faintest stretch mark.
    He frowned.
    His wife’s skin was unmarked, except a trail caused by kisses that must have been rougher than he thought. “Phoebe!” he growled.
    She opened those beautiful blue eyes.
    Perhaps they would always be able to read each other’s thoughts. A little smile instantly curled his wife’s lips. “There’s something I keep meaning to tell you,” she whispered, her voice a husky, sensual invitation. No virgin could . . .
    “Damnation!”

 
    F IFTEEN
    P hoebe could have laughed at the astonishment on Griffin’s face, but her heart was too full. “It’s good news, isn’t it?” she asked. “From your point of view, that is?”
    “Good,” he repeated. He looked as if she’d struck him over the head with a big rock.
    She nodded.
    He spread his hands across her stomach. She instinctively tensed her muscles to try to draw it flat. She had a curve there. The truth was that she had curves everywhere.
    “You didn’t sleep with another man.” His voice was raw with an emotion she couldn’t quite recognize. Relief? “You aren’t accustomed to eating dinner without underclothes.”
    “What? No!”
    “You never wore that blue gown for lover?”
    “Absolutely not!” She felt a little indignant at the very idea. “You think I have a wardrobe just to satisfy my illicit desires? My maid took off its underskirt because she wanted to make sure you found me desirous.”
    “Absurd.”
    She scowled at him.
    “As if any red-blooded man in the world could resist you. Now I wish I hadn’t ripped the gown.” There was laughter in his voice again, but relief, too. Relief and joy and a bedrock strain of desire. “Or rather, I wish I’d jumped off that boat and swum back to shore and tried again. Or that I’d remembered I was married and been faithful to you.”
    She snorted. “Under English law we aren’t yet married, you know. Not until the marriage is consummated. My father told me, the moment I confessed that you were gone.”
    “You lied?”
    “I lied.”
    He cupped her face in his hands and dropped a kiss on