“Be sure of what you ask for,” Thorn said, his voice dark. “If you continue to beg me, India, I will seduce you, and I won’t be sorry. But I won’t marry you simply because my cock has been inside you.”
India’s heart quickened at his words, although she should have been outraged that anyone would say such a vulgar thing to her. But she wasn’t outraged. She was exhilarated.
“I do not want to marry you,” she said, being as clear as she could. She had managed to tug his shirt free, and the warm, sleek skin of his back was under her fingers. “I don’t even like you very much.”
“I like you,” he muttered against her lips. “But I have as good as committed myself to marry another.”
India was tired of talking about marriage, or indeed of talking at all. She wiggled down, which made the hammock sway, just enough so that her face was under his. “I want to do all the things in that book.”
His mouth quirked, even though his eyes were hungry. “All of them?”
She thought about it for a second, and nodded. “Except the one with two women. I’m not interested in that.”
“Damn,” he muttered, but she saw laughter in his eyes.
“You taught me how to kiss, and that didn’t make me want to marry you. Now you can teach me this,” she said, feeling as if she were about to jump out of her skin. “If you won’t, just tell me, because—”
The fierce look he gave her made the words catch in her throat. “Because what?”
“Because I’ll find another man who’s not a gentleman,” India said, not letting him intimidate her.
“You’d find another man,” he said, slowly and ominously.
Though he looked as if he were about to pounce on her, India didn’t flinch. Thorn liked to boast that he wasn’t a gentleman, but he was about to behave like one. He was going to refuse her. He wouldn’t take a lady’s dearest possession, her virtue.
She slid her palms up his back, under his shirt, and announced, “I am not a virgin.” She was whispering again, but really, how could a woman say such an outrageous thing, other than in a whisper?
She wasn’t accustomed to lying, and it was surprisingly difficult to lie to Thorn.
He stared down at her silently for a few long minutes, and at last said, “Do I have to find some scoundrel and kill him for taking you without your permission?”
She shook her head. Something imperceptible changed in the air around them. He shifted his weight, just slightly, but it was so delicious that a shudder coursed through her.
“I will not do this in a hammock,” he stated. His mouth drifted across her cheekbone and she felt the heated touch of his tongue.
She said, with a little gasp, “All right.”
“However, we can begin in the hammock,” he said, his voice like a purr. And with that, his hand swept up her leg and didn’t stop. Didn’t dandle and caress, or trace patterns on her inner thigh. Instead, it went straight to her sweetest spot, which had in truth never been touched by anyone but herself.
Now his fingers slid into her softness, plundering her without asking permission, taking what they wanted. Fire rushed up her body as he unerringly pressed down in just the right spot. India opened her mouth to scream, but he put his lips over hers. With the kiss, and what he was doing with his hands . . . she squirmed under him, breathless, unable to keep her legs from moving. Her fingers tightened on his back, thinking dimly that she wanted his weight, that feeling, the way it was when he—
One of his broad fingers sank into her and she tore her mouth from his because she was on fire and the sounds in her throat had to come out. . . .