Page 73 of An Imperfect Scoundrel

He sat back as though physically slapped and growled, “What do you know of my past? You know the lies printed in the society pages.”

“How many men have you killed? And don’t tell me you don’t know.”

She sat up and stretched out her arm to collect her shirt from the floor, but Cedric captured her hand.

“One,” he replied, pinning her arm behind her back.

Her jaw dropped.

Why had he admitted that?

“You seem surprised.” He added her second arm to his grip.

“Your reputation carries a different number.” She wriggled against him, her bare breasts brushing against his chest, igniting the fire smoldering in his belly.

Patrick’s little sister was definitely not an appropriate companion, and when her brother learned she’d been in his bed, it was quite possible the lighthouse keeper would demand violent satisfaction.

That should have stopped him, but he wasn’t one to follow expectations, and her unusual scent, that of a lush meadow after a rainstorm, called to him…

“That’s a polite description,” he replied, tightening his grip on her wrists. “We’re not done yet.”

“How is it possible that you’ve only taken one life? I saw you…” Her skin flushed as she argued, distracting him, and he longed to taste her again.

“You saw Evans, the future captain of this ship, murder Mr. Parker,” Cedric cut her off and leaned forward, pressing his mouth to hers.

She made a strangled sound, a mixture of a growl and a moan, as though her body and mind couldn’t decide how to react to his kiss.

“And Mr. Williams?” she said against his lips.

Stubborn.

He broke the kiss and nibbled his way along her jawline under the pretense of considering her question.

“Mr. Williams?”

“One of the men shoveling coal. Mr. Evans killed him, too.”

Her breath caught as his mouth touched a sensitive spot beneath her ear.

“You think I should have stopped Mr. Evans?” Leaning back, his eyes searched hers.

“Yes.”

Transferring her wrists to one hand, he lifted his free one and cupped her face, trailing his thumb over her jawline, then brushed the digit across her lower lip.

“Despite your prejudice against me, even pirates have codes that must be followed. I can’t intervene with justice, or I would find myself on the wrong end of the pistol. Mutinies are possible when the captain is soft.”

“Your decisions are made in self-preservation?”

“Not all of them,” he replied and leaned forward, capturing her mouth with his. His tongue thrust past her lips, tangling with her tongue, and drew a groan from her lips.

She struggled against the grip restraining her arms behind her back, but his hand tightened, keeping her still as his tongue caressed hers. When he finally broke the kiss, she drew in a ragged breath, fire blazing its way through her eyes.

“I’m cross with you,” she said, her tongue darting out and wetting her lips in a decidedly seductive manner.

“You don’t sound angry.” He stroked his fingers over her throat. “Conflicted, perhaps.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” she managed, visibly struggling not to tilt her head back.