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Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Copyright
  3. Author's Note
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. Other Books by Pam Godwin
  63. About Pam Godwin
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“I’m not leaving without my compass.” Pushing back my shoulders, I girded my spine and turned to face my biggest mistake.

A few paces away, the pirate leaned against a wooden post. His thumb hooked casually in the straps of leather that wound around his trim hips. His other hand hung at his side, dangling my compass by the chain.

Rancor battled longing. Scorn collided with sadness, and my outrage bowed beneath the helpless, banal attraction I’d always felt for him.

His brown breeches fit him like a glove, the threads molding around powerful thighs and the sizable bulge of his groin. His loose shirt tucked into multiple belts at his waist and laced up his chest to open at the neck. A strong neck, covered in scruff and sinew.

I swallowed thickly, my entire body pulsing with an unwanted ache as my gaze rose to his.

Eyes glinting like polished steel glared down at me. Moonlight cast his prominent features in stark relief—stern forehead, defined cheekbones, perfect nose, full lips—leaving the rest of his face in shadow. The severe straight line of his mouth amplified the intensity in his expression.

He was furious. Seething with two years’ worth of blistering, unresolved ire.

My heart died a thousand deaths before I found my voice. “Priest.”

“Bennett, my love.” He spilled the endearment into the air, each syllable a vicious growl of torment. “How I’ve missed my beautiful, infuriating wife.”

7

Three years ago, a confident, sexually charged, uncommonly handsome pirate strolled onto my ship. Little did I know, his sinful gray eyes and traitorous mouth would twist my entire world wrong-side-out.

Priest had joined my crew with Reynolds, who was looking for work. But Priest had a different agenda.

He was on the prowl for his next conquest.

Within a fortnight, I found myself pinned beneath his thrusts in my cabin, screaming, writhing, delirious in the throes of the most profound, erotic, and emotionally penetrating coupling of my life.

The raw, uninhibited magic I’d felt with him hadn’t been one-sided. Entangled in sweaty limbs, stripped to the skin, and deeper still—deep enough to expose our hearts—we were buried so far inside each other there would be no unraveling.

What began as an unstoppable explosion of passion forged into something pivotal, essential, and more.

We’d become addicted to each other. Insatiable. Inseparable. We couldn’t keep our clothes on, our hands to ourselves, or our hearts closed off. It had happened so suddenly it knocked us off our feet and fundamentally changed us.

How quickly I’d trusted him with my secrets and my future. Even more shocking was the intoxicating intensity in which the hedonistic king of libertines had returned my love. It was widely known that his cock had been under more skirts than a dressmaker’s needle.