With a shuddering breath, his hand went to the spot where he’d healed her, where there was no scar, and skittered up to palm her breast.

Her breath caught, and she arched her back, pushing into his touch, seeking still more.

As if goaded by her response, he gripped her thigh and bent, catching her nipple between his lips.

She gasped, closing her eyes and letting her head hang back. Even bolder than she’d anticipated. He really had fooled her with that mask of control and restraint, hadn’t he?

His thumb grazed her other nipple just before he nipped the first playfully, pleasure-pain striking through her like a lightning bolt and making her jerk upright, legs tight around him.

He looked up at her with a wicked grin and licked the spot he’d bitten, soothing the hurt in a way that made her squirm. “What?” He raised an eyebrow again. “Did you think just because I was in the Navy, I hadn’t learned anything useful beyond sailing?”

She swallowed, breath quaking, body burning in anticipation. “Clearly, I misjudged you.”

Smirking, he kissed his way up her chest, hands fiddling with the buttons of her breeches. “Clearly. Let’s see just how far …”

As his mouth landed on hers again, he tugged off her boots, then her breeches.

Gods, she really had misjudged him, hadn’t she? Knighton Villiers was not the gentle lay she’d expected.

Cool air caressed her skin, a relief from the overpowering heat coursing through her veins, making her sigh against his lips.

With a firm hand, he pushed her back against the flat stone he’d propped her on. His fingertips glided across the tattoo that decorated the side of her hip and down her thigh, giving it an appreciative look before lowering to his knees.

“What”—she half sat up, but his palm on her solar plexus stopped further movement—“what are you doing?”

“I thought the Pirate Queen would appreciate a man kneeling for her.” With a flash of a grin, he nudged her thighs apart and, Wild Hunt, she was not about to stop him.

Scoffing, she lay back, heart pounding in her ears. “Badly misjudged.”

“You have no idea,” he murmured before his tongue laved against her.

She gasped, back arching out of her control, now responding only to his sweet torment, his ravenous touch. Eyes closed, she focused on each point of contact—his grip on her thighs, his smooth strokes against her, the scrape of his stubble.

A low moan rumbled through him and into her core, saying he enjoyed this, too. As his tongue worked on her sensitive pearl, his finger circled her entrance with teasing pressure.

She writhed, and a pathetic sound echoed through the cave—that was her, near-begging. She needed more, craved more, wanted more. But her voice wouldn’t cooperate to ask for it, to demand it. Instead, she bucked her hips and whimpered.