He withdrew from her and his fingers caressed her. She thrust her hips toward him and pounded at his chest until she felt him enter her again.
The earl clasped her to him and rolled over onto his back, bringing her with him.
“I would look at you, Cassandra.” He smiled at the dazed bewilderment on her face.
She tried to pull away from him, but he encircled her waist with his hands and drew her upright. She felt him deep inside her and quivered, not looking at him.
His hands moved from her waist, upward, to cup her breasts.
She moaned softly and spread her hands on his chest to support herself.
The earl went slowly with her. He lifted her, kneading her as he moved her over him and pressed his fingers against her belly, splaying them downward to caress her. She writhed at his touch, and her thighs tightened about his sides. She arched her back to draw him deeper. The intensity of her response broke his control.
Engulfed in her own desire, Cassie felt his shuddering climax deep within her, and gave herself to him and to her pleasure.
She had not the strength to support herself, and fell, her hair cascading over his face and shoulders, her cheek against the hollow in his throat. Gently, he straightened her legs and felt the length of her soft body against him.
“I love you, Cassandra.”
His words floated vaguely through her mind, but they did not touch her. She fell into an exhausted sleep, lulled by the gentle rocking of the yacht and enveloped by his warm, hard body.
Chapter 9
Cassie awoke feeling cramped and hot. There was something tickling her lips. She opened her eyes and tensed. She was locked tightly in the earl’s arms, her cheek against his shoulder. She drew back her head, scarcely able to weave her thoughts together. I have given myself to this man. She gave a shake of her head, recalling the intense, rampant sensations that had driven all thought from her mind, remembering vividly moaning her lust to him, holding him against her as if she would have dissolved into jagged pieces if he had released her. She was a woman now. But she had given herself to a ruthless man she did not love, the man who had abducted her. She wanted to scream her fury at herself and her hatred of him for making her respond to him. How could she have felt what she did but one night after he raped her? Her unspoken reply made her shrink within herself. But I am a lady, an English lady. No, she was not a lady, she was a slut, with no more moral fiber than the cheapest harlot, and she had betrayed Edward. She remembered her words, wrenched from her last evening. He had been gentle and comforting, had spoken words to her that had stilled her guilt. I let him seduce me again and I did not want it to stop.
Stop it, Cassie. She held her breath, for he stirred. How could she face him when she could hardly face herself? She felt his arm slip down to her hips. She tried to ease herself away from him, but realized that if she moved he would surely awaken. She looked down at him. He appeared strangely vulnerable in sleep, a lock of raven hair falling over his wide forehead. Vulnerable indeed, she thought. His black eyelashes were long and thick, lush as a girl’s, but there was nothing else about him that was remotely feminine. She looked at his straight nose, a Roman nose, his finely etched cheekbones, his wide sensual mouth, his square jaw. She remembered other ladies of her acquaintance talking of him as devastatingly handsome, wickedly handsome. She decided that wicked was the more apt term. She felt his belly beneath her thigh, tautly muscled, his hair caressing her skin.
He sighed deeply in his sleep and rolled onto his back. Slowly, Cassie slipped out of his hold and wriggled off the bed. She breathed a sigh of relief that he still slept. The water in the basin was cold, but she paid it no mind. She wanted to be bathed and dressed before he awoke. She was leaning over, scrubbing herself, when she heard his voice from behind her, lazy and teasing.