Was the coverlet still wrapped around me? A thin drape of linen wouldn’t protect me from him, anyway. At that thought, I renewed my struggling, desperate to escape before he forced my legs apart and violated me again.

But he didn’t attack. His arms clasped tight around my squirming, twisting, gasping body and just held me there. Hugging me.

Searing pressure filled my throat and hit the backs of my eyes. The hoarseness of my breathing rose over the creaking in the cabin.

His mouth went to my ear. “Shhhhh.”

Tears invaded, inwardly, silently. But somehow, he knew. He made more hushing sounds and gathered me closer, embracing me in a cocoon of strength without crushing me.

I didn’t know what to do with this. I didn’t trust it.

His lips moved to my brow, lingering, softly kissing, and I didn’t know how to react to that, either. I wanted it. I wanted him to kiss me and hold me and keep me as his captive, without actually being one.

I shouldn’t crave any of those things. I was sick. Mentally unwell. Emotionally and physically exhausted.

I wanted to return to my ship and my life with Reynolds and Jobah.

He shifted, trailing kisses across my eyelids, down the length of my nose, and around the corner of my mouth. Then he stared at me with a magnetism that made everything else fade into the lantern’s backlight.

He was such a distinguished, utterly gorgeous man I never tired of looking at him. Even when he was mean. Especially then. The utter loss of control and wild passion he’d asserted on the balcony would’ve been sinfully arousing under different circumstances.

If I hadn’t been plotting against him, and he wasn’t trying to condemn me to the hempen halter, I’d wager that we could have had a lovely relationship seeded in trust, communication, and sizzling love.

Notwithstanding the drastic discrepancy in our social classes.

My face gravitated to the warmth of his chest, my lips grazing the silken neckline of his open shirt. My cheek resting against the knit of bone and sinew on his sternum. My fingers sliding around his lean waist to… I only meant to touch his spine. But my hands bumped against the upper curves of his rock-hard arse.

He stilled. I trembled. Then I surrendered to the impulse and palmed his taut, firm buttocks through the breeches.

His body gave a slow, sinuous flex, rolling against me as he released a rumbling groan.

“I want to start over.” The languorous grind of his hips let me feel how hard he throbbed between us. “You don’t have to forgive me. But we’re not leaving this bed until you come.”

My scorn clung, setting my jaw. “If I say no?”

“I told you.” He gripped my chin and locked our eyes. “Don’t ever say no to me.”