heat, savored his scent, and parted her lips.
His tongue filled her and explored.
She did the same with him. The tastiest food had never satisfied as he did, his clean taste indescribable and pure man. The same as his whiskered cheeks rasping hers. No weapon could have made her feel safer than he did. He gentled his brute strength and held her carefully.
Her ears buzzed. She came alive as she never had, wreathed her arms around his shoulders, and pressed close.
The prominent bulge between his legs nudged her mound. Her sex responded and grew damp, congested, wanting of him.
The same as Netta’s surely did. Aimee knew her sister too well to believe anything else. Reluctant to leave his embrace, Aimee nevertheless pulled away and snatched what breath she could.
Her moisture shone on his lips. Carnal hunger burned in his eyes.
She stepped aside and left him to Netta. The only woman she would ever share him with.
* * * *
Netta had always believed the moment Aimee and Heath embraced, she’d bolt and would banish their intimate moments from her mind.
Her legs barely supported her. Unable to flee, she froze.
Heath pulled her into his arms and claimed her lips, his mouth hard yet tender, his beard-roughened skin more balm than irritation.
She drove her fingers into his thick, silky hair and suckled his tongue. Complete madness. This couldn’t last. She should have strangled Aimee for pushing her past temptation until she couldn’t control herself.
Netta’s tongue played with his then forced it from her mouth so she could fill him.
He made an amused sound and allowed her what she willed.
Her smile touched his.
If Netta could have decided the future, she would have joined him and Aimee in his mud house, worn his marriage collar proudly, and given him the sons all men craved. Daughters too. He only had to want her as she did him.
She’d lied about surrendering to her fate. From his first night on the isle, she’d yearned for a kind word, a loving touch, respect, acceptance, this.
He deepened their kiss. His chest crushed her breasts. He pushed his magnificent sex against her mound. They shared each breath. Their hearts beat as one.
Lightheaded, she tore her mouth free and gulped air.
Aimee joined them.
* * * *
None of Heath’s bawdy dreams had matched this.
Aimee kissed his throat, Netta his chest, their lips softer than velvet, tongues wet. Even the sun couldn’t match their heat. They smelled of flowers, clean skin, an ocean breeze, a summery day. Life at its best.
Pity if he had to die for these few moments.
Muted laughter and music sounded from the courtyard. No growls or orders from Royce. Yet. Once he happened by this room, the accusations and threats would surely come.
Heath would deal with them when he had no other choice. He pressed his toes into the cool marble to keep still so Aimee and Netta wouldn’t come to their senses and leave.
They all should, though together, and remain that way throughout the night and tomorrow, perhaps the following weeks. This confined space wasn’t large enough for him to take them fully or repeatedly unless they stood. Only a bedchamber would do. There were certainly enough in the mansion.
Though besotted, he wasn’t mad enough to invade Tristan and Diana’s home. That left his mud house or the surrounding forest. The trees were closer. He should suggest them.
Netta captured his mouth and slipped her tongue inside, blocking any possible words. He suckled her deeper then took command and filled her mouth instead.
She slumped against him, a prisoner to his will.
Aimee kissed his scarred back and stroked his ass and thighs.
His hair stood on end. Her touch branded him, the same as Netta’s mouth. He swayed into one then the other, unwilling to neglect either, unsatisfied because he couldn’t get closer.
They bumped into a rack. Glass tinkled. A broken bottle would cut their feet and put an end to enjoyment.
He pulled away to warn them to take care.
Aimee slanted her mouth over his. Netta cupped his balls and stroked his cock.
Delight barreled through him, impossible to contain. He shot to his toes.
They followed. Aimee enjoyed his mouth. Netta unfastened his breeches and stroked his thick curls.
His cock stiffened so much his skin stung. His balls ached. Nothing on God’s good earth seemed more fitting than taking them here and now without end.
Feet slapped the hall floor.
Fear slammed into him. Not for himself. Netta and Aimee. No telling what their people would think of one man with two women. Heath being English only made matters worse.
He twisted away from Aimee and grabbed Netta’s hand, or rather what remained of it.
She recoiled.
Heath should have let go but couldn’t. Up close, the injury was far worse than he’d dreamed. Three fingers and a good portion of her palm were gone leaving only her thumb and forefinger. Whoever mutilated her had used fire to sear the wound, resulting in ragged edges no longer charred but grayish white against her rich brown skin.
He couldn’t hide his horror at what she’d endured.
Tears slid down her cheeks. She yanked her hand away and dashed from the room.
“Netta?” Gavra spoke from the hall. “Wait.” She called out. “What happened?”
He’d done it this time and had to make things right. Heath buttoned his breeches and eased past Aimee.
She grabbed his arm. “If you follow Netta that will make her run faster. She believes you find her ugly because of her hand.”
“What? Never. I’m sickened by what the pirates did to her.”
Surprise crossed Aimee’s face. “How did you know that?”
“I overheard your people speak of the men who came here and brutalized everyone. It doesn’t make sense they’d do so to Netta. She couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen at the time. Still a child. Why did they choose her to maim?”
Sorrow registered in Aimee’s lovely eyes. She glanced past him. “Netta should tell you when she can.”
Heath couldn’t imagine when that would be. His reaction had crushed her.
“I have to go and comfort her.” Aimee brushed
