if I know.” Katie stomped her feet, her toes now frozen. “Those guys are crazy! And getting closer! Hurry!”
They should’ve stayed at the bar. Should’ve found security and had those jerks kicked out. Here, they were alone, short of waking up the other tenants. She hated the idea of anyone ending up in a fight because of her—
Just then her pirate’s strong arm slid beneath the jacket and grabbed her around her waist as the door opened and they stumbled inside. The warmth of the room slapped against her cheeks and the cold disappeared.
Seconds later she heard their pursuers on the porch, right outside. Had they see them come in here? Would they—
Fists pounded on the door as angry voices called out.
Katie jumped, grabbing at his shirt.
The click of the dead bolt sliding into place echoed in the air. “Be still, lass. The blasted fools will give up soon.” Her pirate’s voice was calm as he whispered at her ear. He tightened his hold. “It’ll be all right.”
Moments later, the voices faded and the footsteps continued on until there was nothing but silence. Well, except for her punching out breaths in an attempt to slow the adrenaline racing through her. He was right there, too, his chest rising and falling in a tempo that betrayed his soothing words.
She looked up, wanting desperately to see him, but they were in almost total darkness. The only light came from a night-light on the far side of the room, but his wide shoulders cut out most of it. With his wig and mask she could barely make out his features.
She lifted her hand and traced the edge of his beard, from his ear down to his chin, the sharp intake of breath his only reaction to the contact.
“Thanks, Cap’n,” she whispered, “for saving my butt...”
Her words faded as a light thud sounded—his pirate hat hitting the floor.
His fingers brushed aside the bangs of the wig that hung to her eyes. His touch was hot, radiating through her mask as he traced the material down her temple until he reached her cheek and then her mouth.
Her breathing grew short and choppy again as he slowly rubbed at her bottom lip with his thumb, the friction igniting a burst of need inside her. Of its own volition, her tongue darted out, licking the tip of his finger.
A low groan filled the air. His groan. He pulled her up hard against his chest.
Grabbing at wide shoulders, she stretched onto her tiptoes, bringing their mouths to within inches of each other as his hand moved to the nape of her neck.
Anticipation crackled between them and then his mouth crashed down on hers.
Her lips parted, giving permission to the hunger in his kiss, and he took it, deepening the connection in a searing and demanding way. She welcomed his desire and returned it, having never felt like this before.
This alive, this connected.
His jacket fell from her shoulders, the loss of the warmth causing another shiver to race through her, but he tightened his hold as the kisses went on and on. Finally, needing to breathe, they broke apart, his mouth moving to her neck. He made his way to her ear as his hands dropped to cup her backside, tucking her tightly to him.
“Should I go?” he whispered. “Tell me now.”
A flicker of awareness at his soft words stole through her.
Did she—was he someone she—
He pressed her even closer, the heat of his mouth on her skin incinerating her thoughts, replacing them with halfhearted mental protests. This was crazy. All of it. The whole night. She didn’t do this kind of thing anymore. The careless girl she’d been all those years ago was gone.
To be this way, with him...now...tonight wasn’t what she’d been looking for.
But was it what she needed? What she wanted?
The arguments rattled her brain. Yes, she should tell him to go. Ignore everything in her that screamed how much she wanted the exact opposite.
The last hour or so with this man had been the most fun, most wild, most perfect in a long time. This was reckless and wrong and she’d be anguished over her actions come morning, but would she regret more not taking this moment?
She didn’t know, didn’t care.
She wanted this. Wanted him.
“Stay,” she breathed as he sought out her lips again. “Stay with me tonight.”
As soon as she spoke, he leaned back. She could almost feel his gaze on her. Fear that he’d changed his mind lanced through her like a sharp stick.
She tightened her grip on his shirt and then his mouth was on hers again. Frantic touches, pushing aside pieces of clothing, shuffling to the large bed against the far wall. His sword, vest and shirt disappeared. He bumbled through removing his boots but took pleasure in the slow rasp of the zippers on hers.
Still on his knees, he tugged at the elastic waist of her skirt, skimming it over her hips and down her legs before getting to his feet again. Loosening the stays of her corset had him whispering a piratey “bloody hell” hotly against her skin when the cords tangled. They finally gave way and he left kisses in their wake.
She reached for her wig, but then he was kissing her again, capturing her hands in his. They collapsed back into the softness of the blankets, and she thought of nothing more than finding solace and pleasure with his every touch, rapture with every kiss and escape in his arms.
* * *
Something was...not wrong, exactly, but Nolan still felt as if he were suffocating beneath whatever was strangling him. He turned his head so breathing came easier and brushed at his face and neck, pushing the silky smoothness away, thinking it felt a lot like a cat.
If he owned one, which he didn’t.
What the hell was that?
It took a moment, but it all came back.
The pirate costume, the wig, the party, the drinking.
The girl.
Transfixed by her boldness in the bar, he’d been content to hold onto those sweet curves as they danced, enjoying the way she burrowed into his chest. Then their escape, him following her lead into the cold and to a dark room, her in his arms once more and then...
Yeah, and then.
He squeezed his eyes shut and raked his hand higher. His fingers tangled with the wig and he fisted the strands, faintly remembering taking it, and the mask, off sometime in the middle of the night.
He tossed it in the direction of the floor, the jerky movement causing the jackhammer ramming inside his head to go into overdrive. Then he went still; only his eyelids moved as he blinked and tried to focus on his surroundings in the dark room.
He remembered the room. Sort of. Stretching one leg, he felt the cool sheet against his bare skin. And he wasn’t lying in bed alone.
Forcing
