Freed of his shirt, Jack fell back on the pillows, in pain, but eager to see how she’d manage the rest.

Flinging the shirt aside, Kit turned her attention to his waistband. It was the work of a moment to wriggle the buttons free. She laid the flap open and gazed down in awe at the prize revealed. Thick as her wrist, engorged and empurpled, Jack’s staff pulsed against the hair curling over the solid wall of his abdomen. Without thinking, Kit’s fingers moved to touch it, to caress it.

Jack groaned, unable to keep the sound back. He shut his eyes, not wanting to see what she might do next. The soft caress of her lips sent him rigid; the wet sweep of her tongue, inexpert but guided by unerring instinct, broke his control. It was impossible to lie still in the face of such provocation. But he managed to keep his hands from tangling in her curls and guiding her lips to where his throbbing flesh most wanted to feel them. Instead, he forced his hands to his hips, easing his breeches down. With his help, she managed the task efficiently, sliding down the bed to pull off his boots and free his legs.

Kit slipped from the bed, Jack’s breeches in her fingers, and turned to survey her handiwork. Naked, displayed for her delectation, Jack was nothing short of magnificent. Not for the life of her could she keep the smile from her face.

“Come back here.”

Kit’s eyes flew to Jack’s. What she saw in the silvered depths sent a thrill of sheer desire streaking through her. With unfeigned eagerness, she resumed her position at his side, gently simmering, intrigued to discover what next he had in mind.

Jack’s mind wasn’t functioning with its customary clarity. It was overheated. He watched Kit climb back on the bed, her bright eyes drifting down his torso. She knelt on her shirt and it drew taut, outlining the tight crescents of her nipples before she pulled it free. It would be easy enough to roll her beneath him and sheath himself in her heat, but in the past seventy-two hours, his imagination had been working overtime; he’d an ambition to turn some of his dreams to reality. But did he have sufficient willpower to do it?

“Ride me.”

The command jerked Kit from her rapt contemplation. Ride him?

Jack read her question in her startled eyes, deep-hued violet and darkening rapidly. Despite the effort it cost him, he smiled. “When I mount you, I do all the hard work. This time, it’s your turn.”

Kit simply stared, trying to make sense of his words. Then she glanced down to where his member angled upward from its curly nest.

“Here. I’ll show you.” Jack caught her hands and drew her over him. “Straddle me like before.”

Kit did, and nearly shot from the bed when she felt his staff leap under her. She froze, her weight steady against him, her thighs spread, her knees on either side of his hips. Breathless, she waited, stunned by the sense of vulnerability that washed over her.

Rigid with effort, Jack forced every muscle in his body to absolute obedience. A single upward thrust would sink his staff into her, hard against the source of the heat pouring over him from between her widespread thighs. But aside from the fact that he knew he might hurt her by such an aggressive entry in this position, she’d tensed and was probably dry.

He drew a ragged breath and avoided looking at the juncture of her thighs, where the head of his manhood nestled amidst her flaming curls. He eased his convulsive grip on her hands and raised them, placing them on the pillow, one above each of his shoulders. Another deep breath allowed him to run his hands back along her arms to curve about her shoulders. “Lean forward and kiss me.”

Kit did as she was told, intrigued by this latest twist in his game. It started off as he’d said, with her kissing him, but he quickly took over, his fingers tangling in her curls, holding her head steady while his tongue plundered the soft cavern of her mouth. She made no protest at the change. Her furnace was alight; she needed to find the path to his flame.

Jack lowered his hands from Kit’s head to her shoulders, then set them to mold her body as he wished, bringing her up on her hands and knees over him. He drew his lips from hers and urged her forward so he could take one shirt-veiled nipple into his mouth. Kit’s gasp urged him on. He licked the material until it clung to the ripe peak, then drew the turgid flesh deep into his mouth. He suckled and Kit moaned, her body spasming in response. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted. Jack switched to her other breast and repeated the exercise.

Kit moaned with each successive onslaught on her senses. An urgent ache had developed between her thighs. She longed to ease it; she knew how. But Jack relentlessly stoked her fire, apparently unaware of her need.

“Jack!” Kit put all the longing she could into the syllable. Instantly, she felt his hands pushing aside her shirt to reach between her thighs. She sighed in relief when first one long finger, then two, slid into her. The fingers moved and she gasped, concentrating on their probing. They settled to a rhythm she recognized; she matched it. Jack’s mouth continued on her breasts, his tongue laving the sensitized peaks, sending streams of fire coursing down her veins.

Jack waited until her gasps were quick and uneven, until her hips were pressing against his hand, her body seeking greater satisfaction. Her honey poured over his fingers as he drew them from her. “Now take me inside you.”

The growled command was barely discernable but Kit heard and needed no further urging. She edged back, to where his member waited, throbbing with the desire to ease her need. She lowered herself onto it, tilting her hips to catch its head, drawing it into her. As soon as she felt him enter her, Kit sank back, taking him fully in one smooth movement.

Jack couldn’t breathe. He grabbed her hips and raised her slightly. Immediately, Kit took the initiative, rising until he felt sure he’d lose her clinging heat, only to impale herself more deeply on the downward stroke. Once he was sure she was in control, Jack drew a ragged breath and refocused his attention on her breasts, warm and ripe beneath the tantalizing film of her shirt.

Kit savored the sensation of being in complete control, able to slide his strength into her at whatever pace she desired. She spread her thighs wide and took him deep; she experimented, clenching her muscles tight about him, closing her thighs to minimize penetration.

She felt Jack’s hands close about her breasts, one hand covering each ripe mound, squeezing in rhythm with her ride. His fingers found her nipples. Then he started rocking his hips against hers, driving into her as she descended. Abruptly, Kit understood the purpose of her shirt. The edge floated on her thighs, rising and falling as she did, bringing home to her the view Jack would have if he was watching their bodies merge.

As she felt her fires coalescing, pooling into the conflagration that would ultimately consume her senses, Kit forced her eyes open. Jack was watching. Avidly.

With a groan she closed her eyes. Her head dropped back as the fires raged. She tightened her body, trying to hold back the inevitable, to prolong the sweet agony for just a little longer.

Jack wasn’t up to prolonging anything. The sensual sight of their bodies fusing, of his staff driving into her, slickly penetrating her fevered body, was not designed to stave off consummation. He felt her body clench against release, tightening about him. He let go of her breasts and gripped her hips, holding her immobile. Drinking in the sight, he drove deeply into her.

That was all it took.

They climaxed together, gasping, their eyes open, gazes locked, their souls as fused as their bodies.

Kit’s release swept her, draining her of all strength. She slumped forward and Jack gathered her to him, settling her legs so she lay on top of him, tucking her head under his chin.

She fell asleep with his arms about her.

When Kit awoke, they were lying entangled under the covers. She couldn’t remember being moved, but Jack now lay sleeping beside her, one arm tucked protectively about her. Kit smiled sleepily, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. She was warm and secure, sated and content. Which was more than she’d been able to say since Wednesday night.

She squinted over the bedclothes at the window; the pink tinge of sunset was coloring the sky. It was nearly time to leave.

Memories of her recent activities drifted through her brain. She stifled a delighted giggle, then sobered. If she’d learned anything from today’s episode, it was that she couldn’t live without Jack. The fire in her veins was a drug she could no longer face the day without. Only he could stoke the blaze.

But Jack was smuggling spies.

Kit snuggled closer to his comforting warmth. She knew, beyond all doubt, that he was not personally involved with the spying. He was just misguided, believing it no different than smuggling brandy. She’d have to ensure, next time, that she explained it to him fully. It was up to her to make him see sense.

She had to succeed. There were three lives depending on it-Julian’s, Jack’s, and hers. Kit sighed. She’d speak to him about it next time she came. There was no point in spoiling the moment now.

Carefully, she eased from Jack’s side, only to have him draw her back, his arm heavy in sleep. Kit glanced at the window. Perhaps it wasn’t that late. She wriggled against Jack, rising up to find his lips with hers. And set about kissing him awake.

Chapter 20

The stars fell from Kit’s eyes on Monday night. She’d decided to attend the meeting at the Old Barn. Although she no longer felt compelled to join the smugglers on their runs, she needed to see Jack, to try to learn more about his views on “human cargoes.” When better to lead the conversation in that direction than on the slow ride back to the cottage after the meeting? She held few illusions as to how much rational discussion they’d engage in once they entered the cottage. But he’d only run one “human cargo” in the last two months; she had time, she felt, to pursue his conversion at a leisurely pace.