Free Falling for the Pirate by Amber Lin Page B

hair raised on the back of her neck. Then she knew.
    It was a predator’s smile. She didn’t have to remember her past to recognize this. The knowledge whispered along her body, ancient knowledge, warning that she was about to be eaten.
    “I’ll go up to bed, then.” Her voice lilted up, turning her words into a question. Asking permission.
    He nodded slowly. “Allow me to escort you.”
    She placed her hand in his elbow, feeling oddly disconnected from her actions. Someone else’s heart was pounding. Someone else was afraid.
    Arm in arm, they passed through the main hallway of the house. Faint light from the street shone through the high windows in the door. She could leave, right now. She could walk out into the street and be free of him.
    And go where? There was nowhere to go. Nothing to do but pay the price of the gowns and the food and the doctor with the only thing she had left—her body.
    He propelled her firmly, inexorably up the stairs. She let him.
    Outside her door, he paused. She wasn’t sure why he stopped, why they stood shrouded in darkness without speaking, why the tension rose like a tangible vibration in the air. A peculiar state had overtaken her, replacing the air with liquid complacence. She was underwater, as if she had fallen off the dock and never been pulled back out. This was her life now, held captive by the currents beyond her control.
    He bent his head and pressed a kiss to her lips. That, at least, she understood. That was easy as breathing. She opened to his urging, obeyed the gentle demands of his lips, his tongue, his teeth. He made a small sound of surprise in the back of his throat. He hadn’t expected her acquiescence—but he took it greedily, like a starving man. He tilted his head forward and drank his fill.
    His hand moved to her waist, a sudden shock of heat that made her gasp. He pulled her flush against his body so she could feel the breadth of him, the hardness. Like a living structure. That was how he felt to her—massive and rigid, and yet he pulsed with a kind of manic energy.
    “Julia,” he murmured, and it sounded like a warning.
    Against what? She already knew what he wanted from her. She was already giving it to him.
    She sighed. The word please slipped out, even though she hadn’t meant to say it. Even though she didn’t exactly know what it meant. She knew better than to ask for him to stop. It was more a request for him to acknowledge her.
    And he did.
    His head lifted. “Julia.” His voice was lower now, deeper. He sounded as if he’d drunk a full bottle of wine instead of one glass at supper. Drunk and mystified. “Why are you allowing this?”
    Because it was all she had to give. “Why not?”
    Anger sparked in his eyes. He turned her around so she faced the wall. “Anything I want, then? Is that what you’re offering me?”
    She had that sense again. Out of her depth. What was there to offer? He was ordering from a menu she had never seen before.
    But then he added, “Is that what it’s worth to you?”
    He could have meant anything. Her health, her safety. Her future. And it didn’t really matter. It was all worth this much to her, so she let him reach around her body. She closed her eyes to the dark patterned wallpaper. He cupped her breasts through her dress and chemise, sending fierce heat through her body. He knew how to bring her pleasure—and he cared enough to try. She would be grateful for that tomorrow. Not today.
    His thumbs and forefingers found her nipples. They kneaded her softly, drawing a low, sharp sound from her. It affected him, too. He stiffened behind her. His breathing grew harsh against her temple.
    “Christ, Julia. What is this? What are you doing to me?”
    “I’m not doing anything. I’m trying to obey.”
    He pushed her away. His face was ravaged—guilt, frustration. She read it all with dispassionate acceptance. He could mirror all the things she felt, because she could not feel them for herself. She was