He wished for a lamp. He wished for anything that would allow him to see Ashley as she lay beneath him. Twice now he’d had her almost naked beneath him, and both times he’d seen nothing of her body. And he’d made a study of her body—fully clothed, of course. He knew it was lush and ripe. He knew every curve he wanted to trace, every hollow he wanted to kiss. He wanted to see what he touched, but he could not risk lighting a lamp for such frivolous reasons. And when the sun rose, he would have to go. So he saw her with his hands and his mouth. He drew the material of the shift apart and allowed it to fall to her abdomen. His hands roved over her, feeling the way she shivered at his touch, the way her skin warmed where his fingers grazed her. Her skin was impossibly soft. He’d grown used to the rough feel of rope and wood under his fingers, and she was as soft as the finest silk. His hands cupped her flesh, feeling the pleasant weight of her as he lowered his mouth to kiss the slope of her breast.
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