She screamed as she was tossed into the intense waves of pleasure. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her heels into his lower back.
He roared. His body stiffened, his hands gripping her hard and painfully tight as he shouted again as the tension mirrored in him was released just as violently.
A long moment later he lifted his head from where he was slumped over her. ‘Don’t go to sleep.’
In answer she tightened her grip on him so he couldn’t lift away from her. She didn’t think she’d ever sleep again. Every cell and nerve in her body was so wired she didn’t think they’d ever calm enough for sleep to claim them. She was so hypersensitive she was afraid she might cry. She really didn’t want to do that.
He lifted his head again and looked at her—nose to nose. ‘I’m starving—you?’
His easy return to reality made her laugh. Relief swept through her as she relaxed. ‘You didn’t eat at the wedding?’
‘Funnily enough I didn’t feel like eating much after I got your message. Too tense. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.’
His honesty kept her smile wide. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you but there’s nothing in the pantry.’
He rose up from the floor and walked over to the kitchenette area of her studio. He opened the one cupboard and sighed. ‘That’s because you don’t have a pantry, you have a shelf. But—’ he turned and winked at her ‘—you’ll be amazed what I can conjure out of nothing.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve come up with some desperate options in my time. Bet you’ve never had frozen-pea sandwiches the way I make ’em.’
‘Nice.’ She laughed but her heart tugged at the same time.
But he was laughing easily. ‘Especially with stale bread.’ In the end he found some rice and cooked it up with the few vegetables he found lurking in her fridge. They had some almond biscuits for afters. It was an odd meal for one in the morning. She didn’t want to sleep. Didn’t want to miss a minute.
She watched him as he ate, wondered how many dinners he’d thrown together out of limited supplies in isolation. ‘You don’t get lonely when you’re alone at sea for so long?’
‘No. I’ve always been alone. That’s the way it is.’
‘But you wanted to join in that family Christmas.’ She’d felt that longing in him. She’d recognised it because, if she was honest, it was echoed within herself.
‘I was trying to be a good guest. Helpful.’ He winked. ‘And I wanted to be near you.’
It wasn’t just her.
Liam picked up the belt from her robe and wound it round his hands, then unwound it. Now he’d refuelled, he was ready to have every inch of Victoria all over again. He’d glanced at the clock on the computer and felt a surge of panic. One night didn’t seem so long at all this side of midnight.
‘What are you planning to do with that?’
He smiled as he heard excitement tinge her not-quite-innocent question. ‘Play with you.’
‘Only if I get to do the same to you.’
‘Sure. After me.’ He turned to look at her.
Gold leaf still glittered on her body, but it was nothing on the glitter in her eyes.
She’d switched her lamp on to partially light the room. The beam from the bulb highlighted a patch on her thigh. He reckoned he’d start there.
‘Why do you want to tie me up?’ she asked as she offered her wrists for him to bind to the headboard of her bed. That she trusted him so implicitly gave him an immense kick of satisfaction. That she was so willing to be so physically intimate with him. Finally.
‘I want to explore you without distraction,’ he answered honestly. He wanted to caress every curve, every inch of her skin. ‘It’s hard to keep control when you have your hands on me.’
He wanted to give her pleasure again and again. To discover her body, her secrets. To understand what it was she liked. Never had he wanted to please a lover more. And that competitive part of him wanted to ensure he was the best she’d ever had.
She shifted—experimentally moving her legs. But she was smiling as he bent over her. ‘So I nearly won, then?’
If he was honest, she’d won everything.
‘You okay?’ He checked again long minutes later as he finally did as she was begging and worked his fingers into her, his thumb circling over her most sensitive spot until she came wet, hot, screaming.
‘I’m so doing this to you,’ she panted.
‘Soon.’ He was pushing her over the edge again first.
It was over an hour later when he let her tether his wrists. She smiled at him with such wicked intent he was hard again in a second.
She swept her hands over him, looking at him as if he were something she’d wanted to toy with—and devour— since for ever. She bent over his body—kissing, caressing every bit of him with her hands, her lips, her hair. When she licked her lips and her gaze zeroed in on his erection he knew he was in trouble.
‘Victoria.’ Part of him wanted her to do it so much, but he also wanted to come inside her again.
But in the end he had no choice. She sucked him so hard, her hands working in tandem, there was no way he could hold back. No way he could resist diving head-first into the generous, seductive attention she was gifting him.
She didn’t untie him after—even though he was as limp as a dishrag. Dazed, he lifted his head with a huge effort as she slipped away from the bed.
‘Victoria?’
A couple of minutes later she came back to him. She had a fountain pen in her hand.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked lazily.
‘You’re missing something all sailors have.’ She carefully touched the nib of the pen to his chest.
‘What’s that?’ He twitched at the tickling sensation.
‘A tattoo.’ She chuckled. ‘A heart with ‘mother’ or something across it.’
He flinched.
‘Perhaps not ‘mother’,’ she said quietly and lifted the pen from him.
‘It’d be okay,’ he said, feigning ease. ‘She died when I was very small.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It was a long time ago.’ The pen tickled him some more.
‘Did your father find anyone else?’
‘No. He was a rough man. A stevedore who loaded and offloaded ships. He worked
