Free The Jezebel by Saskia Walker Page A

roamed, until her nails were bedded in that fine posterior. At that very moment he turned around and caught her looking.
    Blushing, she glanced away, but it was too late. Not only had she been caught, she had also caught sight of his cock. Even in its current indolent state it seemed spectacularly large to her, and she could scarcely believe she had survived it.
    “You are not used to seeing a naked man,” he commented as he returned to the bed. In one hand he held a dish of water. In the other he had a folded cloth.
    “No,” she responded, watching as he dipped the cloth into the water, then wrung it out in his hands. “I have never seen a man unclothed before now.”
    Again her gaze was drawn to his starkly male form. What was it about his broad, shapely shoulders that made her hands ache to explore him? There was a dusting of burnished hair across his chest and it narrowed into a line that drew her eye down to his groin. The drawings she had seen in the books her guardian had given her to study about witchcraft and carnal rites never looked as enticing as the captain currently did. Seeing his potent masculinity—even in its dormant state—fascinated her. And he was unashamed. He wore his nudity like the finest cloak. Was it shipboard life that stripped him of any self-awareness or shame, or was he used to a woman admiring him the way Maisie was? Perhaps he enjoyed it.
    “You are getting an eyeful now,” he said, with no small amount of humor.
    Blushing once again, she looked pointedly at a spot on the wall beyond his head.
    Tension arose between them, but how oddly stimulating it was. Like the tug of his ship’s anchor rope, it captured her attention. Peculiar though it was, it made Maisie want to spar with him. “I am curious about you. It is a natural instinct, is it not?”
    He shrugged. “Look all you want.”
    When she met his gaze again, she did so with astonishment and curiosity.
    “I intend to get my fill of looking at you during our voyage to Dundee,” he clarified. “It is only fair.” With that statement he set the dish of water on the floor. Turning to face her, he raised the damp cloth in his hand to her groin.
    Maisie gasped aloud when she realized it was his intention to bathe her—down there, where she had been so recently plundered. She shot out her hand, intending to stop him, but he stayed it with his free one and continued his ministrations with the other.
    “Lie back. I will see to this.” His eyes twinkled.
    Maisie balked. “No!”
    “I will enjoy the task, believe me,” he promised with a chuckle.
    That only served to deepen her embarrassment. “You cannot do such a task.”
    “Oh, but I can.”
    Then the firm swipe of the cold cloth on her sensitive mound distracted her from her argument with him, making her cry out and squirm against the surface of his bed.
    He laughed again, a low rumble in his chest that both teased and inflamed her.
    A dribble of cool water ran down into her niche, arousing her. She squeezed her thighs tight together, mortified. “I can see to it myself,” she murmured, weak with sensation, racked with embarrassment.
    He shook his head.
    Did he know that bathing her would affect her this way?
    After dabbing at her mound, he squeezed the bunched cloth between her locked thighs, prizing them open.
    Pressing her head back into the mattress, Maisie covered her mouth with the back of her wrist. How delicious it felt, but how wrong. The two wildly conflicting reactions confused her, for they made her feel hot, lusty and liable to do something she regretted.
    When she dared to look at Captain Cameron again she could see he was indeed enjoying it. His mouth was pursed in a half smile, his eyelids lowered as he eased apart her legs and stroked the damp cloth over her inner thighs. Maisie whimpered when she realized he was looking directly at her splayed flesh. Every part of her was on display to him, and he was studying her intently. His expression was brooding,