The idea of Rachel’s pristine skin suffering any untoward handling had him clenching his fists as he asked through gritted teeth, “Did he hit you?”
“What? No!” She shook her head, her hair making a susurrous sound as it slid over her shoulders and along her arms. “No,” she repeated, more in control of her response. “I’d have cut off his testicles while he was sleeping.”
He liked this side of her as much as her softer side, liked that she was, again, the perfect vision of strength and self-sufficiency. “Good.”
She shook her head and turned back to the sea, the wind carrying her words to him. “I would have thought that you, as a man, would be offended at the idea of any man’s preciouses being mistreated.”
Settling one hand on her waist, Isaac stepped close enough to lean in and press his lips to the hair that covered her nearest ear. “It’s inexplicably sexy, this image of you strutting into prison to a standing ovation.”
She shook with silent laughter beneath his hand before settling her back against his chest, her ass against his groin. It wasn’t lost on him how well they fit, and he would have thought he’d be fighting the urge to step away and reclaim his space.
He wasn’t.
But he did.
She didn’t follow but, rather, held her place at the railing.
Part of him had wanted her to pursue him. That was a known element. This—her ease with herself and her self-assurance where he was concerned—was new. So new it was an anomaly. When he asked himself why it mattered what she did, there was just...nothing. No immediate answer. No forthcoming answer. Hell, nothing at all. The only thing he received was internal silence paired with slight unease.
God help him, this woman had turned him into a damn mess.
So Isaac moved in close, rested his hands on her waist and urged her back against him.
She came to him without hesitation, snuggling back so that his cock nestled in the crease of her ass. That? That worked just fine. Particularly when he began to harden again as they shifted to keep their balance, the result being a gentle stroking motion against the sensitive head of his cock.
Rachel hummed her approval and wiggled against him to bring him closer.
Lowering his face to her neck, he dropped a slow, openmouthed kiss against skin that smelled faintly of expensive perfume. He’d smelled it before but couldn’t name it. Whatever it was, it was green and woody with a hint of musk—a perfume suited to a confident woman.
Perfect forthiswoman.
“Like that, is it?” Arms crossed over her abdomen, she laced their fingers together. “And here I thought we had come to the ‘boat’ in order to play cards.”
“The ‘boat’ is good for many things. Playing cards is just one of them.”
“You’ll spot me a cigar and a beer, right? If I had known I’d need a stogie tonight, I would have carried a larger handbag.”
For the second time tonight, he busted out laughing without thinking it through and staying the reaction. And just like before, the action—reaction?—irritated him as much as it surprised him, though this time wasn’t quite as jarring as the first had been.
She let him spin her in a dancer’s twirl and pull her back into his embrace, where he began swaying to and fro. “You muddy what is normally a clear mind. For me, anyway.”
The smile she gifted him was breathtaking in the starlight. “You’re welcome.”
“And why is that?”
“You don’t seem to laugh much. That’s a shame.”
“And why, again, is that?” he asked, curiosity piqued.
“Your laugh is sexy as hell.” Rachel went up on her tiptoes and nipped his chin, encouraging him to lower his face to hers. He did as she wordlessly bade, and she rose again, this time stealing a kiss.
They stood there on the dark deck.
She tasted him.
He tasted her.
They explored each other, and their hands followed their mouths’ joint precedent. Her small sounds of pleasure pushed him higher, encouraging him to go farther, to find bare skin.