Her Wicked Pirate
Thrust back in time with Mateo, a dangerous but sexy pirate, Catherine struggles to keep her world upright as wicked storms push them around the high seas. While fighting savage Indians, his superstitious crew and different time lines that confuse the hell out of both of them, Catherine is drawn more and more to Mateo. And the sex is pretty hot, too.
But they both need to return to their own times. Can they find a way to save themselves and stay together, or forever be torn apart?
Catherine didn’t trust that look at all.
He lifted a knee over her, straddled her. His cock strained at the tight leather pants. Its hardness nudged her belly and she licked her lips, afraid and stimulated at the same time. This wasn’t Joey Brown down the street. This was a kick-ass pirate, complete with a sword and dagger he actually knew how to use.
He’d probably think she was foolish, inept.
She suddenly wanted out of that bed.
When he grasped the bottom of her shirt, she placed her hands over his and shook her head. “No.”
He smiled and tugged at the shirt, revealing her waist, and the tiny belly ring in her navel. He stared at it as if it mesmerized him. Then he blinked and lifted the shirt more, to the base of her breasts.
Her jaw dropped. He’d taken off her bikini top, too.
“No!” She placed both hands on his chest and shoved. He tumbled backward and fell off the bed, flat on his back. She scrambled out of the bed and rushed to the corner. Snatching the quilt, she wrapped it around her before Mateo could stand. She placed her hand on the crude door handle.
Mateo stood up, his chest glistening in the lamplight. She trailed her eyes down his physique, from the sparse dark chest hair, to his navel, to the curls of dark hair that disappeared into his leather pants.
God, he was delicious. She shouldn’t run from him. She should encourage him.
If it were Joey Brown from down the street, she would. Well, not really, but if it were Joey Brown in this man’s body, she would. But, damn it, this wasn’t Joey Brown.
She couldn’t get the fact that he was a dangerous pirate out of her head. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her parents were watching her every move, like some kind of moralistic deities. And she didn’t want to look like an inexperienced fool. This guy had experience written all over him. His cock was practically bursting through his tight pants. She took another step backward.
Smiling, as though enjoying a game, he took another step forward. His hands fisted and flexed at his sides. “Catherine, you are playing a game with me,” he said. It sounded like a warning.
“No, I’m not.” She turned and fled out of the room, up the hollow stairs, and onto the deck. Nearly tripping over the heavy fabric of the quilt, she stumbled forward. To the left, four pirates sat on the deck in a circle, slapping down tattered playing cards. To the right, more pirates were busy coiling heavy rope. With nowhere else to run, she wedged herself in the pointed bow of the boat.
“You are mine, Catherine of America. Do not fight it. Enjoy it.” Mateo approached her confidently, his arms wide and welcoming.
Catherine glimpsed his slightly hairy chest and chiseled pectoral muscles. She sucked in a breath, desperately fighting the passion that made her inhibitions and anxiety dissolve. “I want…I want…to go…home,” she breathed as he snared her in his sensual embrace.
Holding her firmly by the waist, he suckled her neck. His hands moved up to rest just under the curve of her breasts. “No, you do not really want to go home yet, do you?” His voice was quiet, husky. Erotic.
Catherine—her breasts on fire by the lingering touch—melted. Surrendered. She wanted it, and there was no denying the throbbing ache in her thighs, the fire in her belly. She wanted him, and she was ready. Fuck her parents. For God’s sake, she was a grown woman and could make her own decisions.
“No,” she whispered, “I don’t want to go home.” When he raised his head to stare at her, she kissed him, hard, her tongue meeting his in a passionate dance.