Page 57 of A Pirate's Pleasure

He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t remember any jumping. Quite the opposite, in fact. I remember you kneeling at my feet in a way that made it impossible to think anything but dirty thoughts.” He paused, the frown returning. “Besides, we waited eight years. Don’t you think that’s long enough?”

“No past, remember,” I said. “No past, and no future. Just the here and now.”

Zeph levered himself up so that his head rested against the wall. Draped across his chest as I was, it was either separate myself from him, or go with him. Not ready to stop basking in the afterglow of sex yet, I chose the latter, wriggling higher on the bed so that I could stay tucked into his chest. “Agreed,” Zeph said, his fingers tracing a sensual path down my arm. “Does it count as thinking about the past if I comment on how much more muscular you are these days? And how much I like it?”

I hid a grin in the crook of his neck, the scent of sex filling my nostrils. “That depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you’re calling the younger version of me weedy?”

His lips quirked. “I wouldn’t dare. I’d rather not get stabbed in my sleep.”

I toyed with the bandage again. It was easy to forget with all the post-sex happy feelings still coursing through my body what a narrow escape we’d had today, and how lucky we’d been that Lucretius hadn’t been on the island when we’d set foot on it. Had he been, the outcome would no doubt have been altogether different. “Do you think he’s really dead?”

I was glad when Zeph gave the question the careful consideration it deserved. “We watched the sea for a long time, and there was no sign of him.” We had, no one seeming willing to take their eyes off the last place we’d seen Lucretius until we were some distance away. And even then, I’d caught Whitby scrutinizing the spot with the spyglass. “If he wasn’t, he would have come after us, right?”

“He would,” I agreed. “He would have wanted to exact revenge for us snatching you out from under his nose, and I assume he would have wanted you back.”

Zeph’s mouth twisted. “He would have done. Even if it was only to kill me to complete his skull collection of past lovers.”

I stared at him, aghast. “He actually had their skulls. I was joking when I said that.”

“Oh, he had them alright. He was kind enough to have decorated my room with them.”

“That’s…” I wasn’t sure what it was. Possibly the most perverse thing I’d ever heard.

“Yeah,” Zeph agreed without waiting for the rest of the sentence. “It’s all kinds of fucked up.” His hand settled in my hair, stroking, the action soothing. “But then he was all kinds of fucked up.” He gave a crooked smile. “He made me appreciate the more straightforward types of relationships. Even the ones that might not have seemed straightforward at the time.”

“Like me?”

“Like you,” Zeph agreed. “I always thought you were moody, but you have nothing on Lucretius Morgan.”

I ignored the jibe and concentrated on what was important. “Hopefully, sea creatures have eaten him and he’s nothing but a pile of bones at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Hopefully.” Zephyr rolled on top of me, the lips on my neck saying he didn’t want to talk about the harpy anymore, which was a sentiment I was only too willing to get behind. Lucretius Morgan had caused enough problems. If any man deserved his watery grave, it was him. I certainly wouldn’t be wasting time grieving for him.

Chapter Twenty-two

Zephyr

Whitby regarded me with a narrow-eyed stare as I sauntered across the deck in his direction. “He lives,” he drawled sarcastically. “We were beginning to wonder.”

I held up my freshly bandaged wrists, Lief having changed them this morning. He still insisted on being the one to care for me, much to West’s amusement every time he turned up at my cabin door only to be sent packing. “Would you begrudge me a bit of rest and recuperation after my ordeal?”

“Rest and recuperation!” Whitby’s words contained enough condescension to start a small war. As did the snort that he’d added on the end for good measure. “That’s what we’re calling it these days, is it? And here I was thinking you and Lief were just making up for lost time.”

I turned and stared out to sea, hoping I’d done it quickly enough for Whitby to miss the smile that had risen unbidden to my lips before I’d suppressed it. There was no denying that Lief and I had gone at it hammer and tongs for the past three days. Or was it four? I’d lost count. Lief’s body, his lips, his cock, his arse, every single damn inch of him had been far more alluring than the thought of coming up on deck as I’d celebrated not only seeing him again when I’d thought that was impossible, but having him in my bed. “We’re adults. We’re entitled to have some fun. You were the one that insisted he share my cabin.”

Another snort, this one imbued with a great deal of humor. “Ah, so it’s my fault, is it? In that case, you’re welcome.” I didn’t credit that with a response, surveying the deck instead. Whitby followed the direction of my gaze. “Looking for something?”

“Lief, if you must know. Have you seen him?” It had been disconcerting to wake this morning to find myself alone in the cabin. I’d already grown accustomed to waking with him wrapped around me, or vice versa, the two of us seeming to need that connection even while we slept.

A broad smile dawned on Whitby’s face. “Have you lost him? That’s careless of you.”

I tamped down on the urge to demonstrate my displeasure with hail and settled for a glare instead as I repeated my question. “Have you seen him?”

Still smiling from ear to ear, Whitby shook his head.