A tiny spot of blood spread around the hole in his breeches. “Do you draw weapons on Eddington, as well?” he asked softly. “Or does his coin spare him?”
Maria paused with her blade held in front of her. “How does Eddington signify?”
“That is my enquiry.” He nonchalantly drew his shirt over his head, revealing the golden expanse of his rippling abdomen. His bare chest had healing cuts and his ribs bore yellowed bruises. Her throat tightened at the sight of his many injuries, her heart pained at her contribution to the marring of such masculine beauty. He tore at the linen, ripping a strip long enough to tie around his muscled leg. “Are we familiar enough yet to share such secrets?”
“Is Eddington the cause of your refusal?” she asked, her stomach churning at the knowledge that he was aware of her continuing association with the earl.
Christopher crossed his arms and shook his head. “No. I speak the truth to you, Maria, because that is what I want from you in return. I want to support you. Help you. If only you will allow me that right.”
His tone was so low, his gaze so earnest that she was arrested by him and the feelings he was engendering. Her dagger fell from nerveless fingers to thud on the floor.
“And what rights will you grant me?” she asked, her chest lifting and falling rapidly.
“What rights would you prefer?” Christopher stepped close again, lowering his head to swipe his tongue across her parted lips. “You could have gone to Quinn or Eddington tonight. Instead you came to me despite your anger. I have something you want, Maria. Tell me what it is, so that I may give it to you.”
The last was said with a distant ache in his tone, which he quickly covered by taking her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. His hands came up to cup her shoulders, pulling her fractionally closer.
Yet even as Maria realized that she had the power to hurt him, she also understood that he had the power to wound her in return. And he was doing it so well, weakening her with his kindness and seeming lack of guile.
“Perhaps all I want from you is sex,” she said coldly, her lips moving against his. “You have a body built for sin and a mind well-schooled on how to use it.”
His grip tightened, betraying a direct hit. It was deeply unpleasant to know that she had deliberately hurt him in order to protect herself, but she could think of no other way to act. This side of Christopher was far too dangerous. She could manage herself around the coarse pirate. She was not confident in her ability to survive the charms of the impassioned, gentle lover who was appearing more often. The rough seduction of their first sexual encounter had softened to these liaisons of sweet kisses, intimate recollections, and admissions of yearning for the other’s company. If she trusted him, it would be a romance. Since his motives were suspect, it felt like a siege, and she could not afford to be conquered when the safety of Amelia was the prize.
“You want my cock,” he whispered, “so I shall service you with it. You have only to ask for what you need. I am prepared and more than willing to provide it. In bed, or out.”
Her eyes closed, shielding her thoughts. She wished she had the strength to set aside her longing and focus solely on the task at hand, but the quivering in her limbs told her it was best to flee while she was still able. The information Welton and Eddington wanted would have to be gleaned by other means. She would find a way, she always had.
“Undress me,” she whispered, firm in her intent.
“As you wish.” His tongue traced the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “Turn your back to me.”
Maria took a deep breath, and did as he asked.
Chapter 14
Christopher’s fists clenched tightly as Maria presented the row of tiny buttons that coursed down her spine. He fought with his hands, ordering them to cease their trembling. He ached for her tenderness, some sign that she cared for him beyond his sexual prowess.
Why had she come? Why send him that note, so sweetly worded? Perhaps he was indeed a pleasure to her. He hated the part of him that said, That is enough. Take what she will give you. Because it was not enough. It could no longer be merely sex between them. He could not share her bed knowing that he was excluded from sharing the rest of her life.
“Have you changed your mind?” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder when he hesitated too long.
He stared at the heart-shaped patch near her mouth and longed to kiss it. The scent of her filled his nostrils, more heady than liquor. “No.”
Christopher began the difficult task of unveiling her lush body, peeling back the yards of material that separated them. He was accomplished in the art of undressing a woman, but never had his hands shaken during the task.
Slowly, he managed, and the back of the crimson gown gaped open, the rich color a stunning contrast to her olive skin. His head lowered, his tongue traveling along the top of her shoulder. He felt her shiver and knew he would perform the same service to the rest of her. He would tug on her nipples with the hot suction of his mouth, then spread her legs wide and lick inside her. She would beg for surcease, arching and writhing beneath him. By the time he was done with her, no other man would satisfy and she would know what he had felt these last days—starved before a banquet and yet unable to eat.
He pushed aside the left flap of the red garment, his gaze arrested by the puckered pink scar left by the knife wound. His eyes closed against the emotions that moved through him. Then he felt the raised line of flesh beneath his fingertips, his hand having lifted without conscious direction. Maria gasped at the touch.
“Does it still pain you?” he asked, opening his eyes to watch his movements.
For a long moment she said nothing, then she nodded.
“I will be gentle,” he promised.
“No,” she argued breathlessly, “you will be on your back.”
The memories her words envoked were so powerful, he shuddered. How many times had he relived their one night together, her above him, her nipple in his mouth, her cunt sucking his cock until he came in a pulsating rush that left him gasping and drained. That he was moments away from experiencing the same ecstasy made his balls draw up tight and ache to be emptied. He was desperate to be one with her. In body, in passion. To fuck her harder, faster, and deeper than she had ever been fucked before and to have her pay him in kind. Have her respond with a similar wildness of need and hunger. For him.
Only him.
“Hurry,” she urged, her body rigid.
Christopher paused, understanding that she felt vulnerable, knowing that the change in the rules of the game had her wary and slightly frightened. He was uncertain as well, taking tentative steps as he trod new ground, never having bared himself in such a manner before.
So he deviated slightly, gripping the back of her gown and rending it open with a quick, hard tear. She stepped out of the remnants and faced him, her waist hugged by a corset, her legs lost in her skirts.
“Discard your breeches,” she ordered, “and lie on the bed.”
He studied her as his hands moved leisurely to do as she bade. She wanted control. He would give it to her, showing her by example that he was willing to put himself in her hands, if she would do the same for him. “I want you naked, as well.”
“Later.”
Nodding, Christopher freed his cock and shoved his breeches down. Maria’s gaze dropped to his erection, goading him to take it in hand and pump it, bringing his seed to slip out over the head.
“See what you do to me?” he asked, holding his cock out to her like an offering.
What looked like sadness drifted across her delicate features. A low moan escaped him as he continued to masturbate for her view. Pleasure coiled around his spine and made his cock swell further.
“I have been too long without you, Maria. Did you miss me the same?”
“I wrote to you.”
“Will you punish me for desiring some sign of your affection? For wanting you to visit me in my bed, rather than the reverse?”
“Stop,” she said hoarsely, her gaze riveted to his industrious hands. “I want you hard and thick inside me, not spent.”
Christopher dropped his hands to his sides, leaving his cock reddened, weeping seed, and curving upward. This was entirely new to him, this forfeit of power. He doubted he could do this for anyone else. A lesser woman would not have the deep-rooted command required to take the control from him. Even Emaline, with all of her vast experience, hadn’t been able to master him in the bedroom. It was why she sometimes serviced him herself instead of granting him the use of one—or more—of her girls. She occasionally needed the luxury of simply being fucked rather than being the one to do all the work.
So he waited, his breathing harsh, his skin misted with sweat. The anticipation rose, charging the air, inciting him further. Sex could be boring if the action lulled. That was not the case now. The space between him and Maria filled with a palpable energy, just as it always had.