Page 32 of Match Made in Heaven (The Cricket Club #5)

E lla needed to hide. She watched Cordelia follow behind her husband, her steps slow and regretful. Was her sister really leaving her? With him?

The silence was deafening. The docks were busy, full of lively, drunken conversations, a few impromptu brawls, groups of men breaking into the odd sea shanty—but all of that was drowned out by what Jack was not saying to her.

Ella kept her gaze down. Fat drops of Lord Lucas’s blood formed a small puddle in front of her, a gruesome reminder of who she was and what she’d done. The lengths she’d gone through for a man she didn’t know.

A man she didn’t even want.

Ella knew that now. Because the man she did want was staring at her with regret in his eyes.

She readied herself for the inevitable, knowing Jack would never show her how much she’d hurt him. His indifference, his callousness, would provide all the emotional pain he wished to inflict. And that kind of pain had the power to stay with someone long after bruises faded.

Jack’s footsteps were measured and contained.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him meander farther away from her, his hands clasped behind his back.

Weathered and strong, this man was a contradiction.

Dressed in his gorgeous black coat, shiny leather shoes, and snow-white shirt, he was the epitome of a duke’s son.

But something wild and unbridled lived underneath the expensive cloth.

Something primitive and restless pressed against the fabric, pulling at the seams. Jack stretched his neck back and forth, his gold earring sparkling like the lone star in their cloud-filled night sky.

“Jack, I—” The words tumbled out of Ella’s mouth, cut short when Jack spotted her across the deck. His cold blue eyes fastened on hers.

It was only a few seconds.

His penetrating gaze.

Her bracing fear.

And then he moved. It was all too fast. Jack was too quick.

Coward that she was, Ella shut her eyes at the last second, too afraid to witness his anger up close. She tensed as he reached for her, his grip hard, his arms like a steel trap.

And then his mouth seized hers. Soft and supple, pliable and wanting, Jack’s lips formed to hers, kissing Ella like a man starved. There was no brute force in his kiss. Sweet and kind, Jack took her mouth like a gift, giving it the reverence and time it deserved. Giving her pure love.

Ella felt his hand climb up her side, landing at the back of her head. He maneuvered her, placing her at just the right angle so that he could deepen the kiss, suck on her bottom lip, coax her to open her mouth for his tongue. He swept inside the heat of her, tasting her, learning her.

Absolving her.

“Tell me it’s true. Tell me you don’t belong to my brother,” he whispered against Ella’s open lips.

Both arms surrounded her now, as if Jack was afraid to let her go.

He kissed her again and again, alternating sweet pecks along the side of her mouth with deep, sensual pulls that made Ella feel like he was stealing her soul from her body.

She gave it up willingly. Anything to be held like this, to be cherished like this.

Ella placed her hands on top of his, a sob gathering inside her throat. “I don’t,” she rasped. “I never did.”

The declaration spurred something in him. Jack’s actions became hungrier, greedier. He kissed Ella with an abandon that made her head spin. She clung to him, knowing that the only reason she was still standing was because he was allowing it.

Ella tried to say more; she needed to explain. But his mouth was too demanding, his kisses too insistent. Jack hugged her to him, and through the hazy din of her mind, Ella felt his arousal. She shaped her hips around his, feeling his groan all the way down to her core.

Passion flamed all around them. This was no mere spark to tinder; this was a blaze that had the capacity to take everything down with it.

But guilt was a difficult thing to fling off. It stuck to Ella, prohibiting her from letting go completely. She wanted Jack. But after everything she’d done and hid from him, what could he possibly want with her ?

Ella pulled back. Their chests heaved from the exertion. Were her eyes as glassy and passion-filled as his? Jack appeared lost, halfway between this life and the next. It scared her, but it also thrilled her.

He came for her again, and Ella placed her fingers on his lips. “Jack,” she said, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Gently, he grasped her wrist and pressed his mouth against the inside of her palm, the same palm that he’d massaged a short time ago. “I know. You meant to have my brother.”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not… I don’t think…” But it was true, wasn’t it? This hadn’t just been her mother’s plan. She’d been complicit in its origins.

Jack chuckled darkly. A shadow passed over his face, and that fear that Ella thought had vanished reappeared to settle in the pit of her stomach. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he went on. “The story has changed.”

Ella fought for her voice. “Changed?”

Jack continued playing with her hand, separating her fingers so he could kiss them one at a time. When he reached the end, he took her entire finger in his mouth, biting it before setting it free. “You’re mine now,” he declared. “I’m meant to have you. That’s it. And I mean to do it now.”

Jack moved like a panther. Ella yelped as he lifted her in his arms.

“Where are you taking me?” she cried.

Jack’s lengths were even, his steps never faltering as he stared straight ahead. “I’m taking you to my room.”

“Why here?”

He cocked his head at her as if she’d just asked the most illogical question. “Because this is my home,” he said matter-of-factly. “And now it’s yours, too.”

*

Jack carried her below deck, the peeking moon and the glow of the lights lined along the docks giving way to darkness and obscurity.

Ella was overcome by the sensation of floating, not just because she was tucked in Jack’s capable arms, but because everything about this scenario felt like something she’d dreamed of before.

Ella strained to see through the shadows, hungry for details of the ship’s vast underbelly, but Jack’s familiarity made his movements too quick. It felt like they traveled through an endless network of skinny corridors and low ceilings.

Eventually, they came to the far end of the narrow passage. Jack turned to his side, nudging open the door and squeezing both of them through, careful not to knock Ella’s hanging legs against the frame. Soon, a mattress gave underneath her as he carefully placed her down.

Ella leaned up on her elbows, watching Jack as he ventured to the small table to the right of the bed, lighting the oil lamp. At once it illuminated the intensity and determination of his handsome face.

Jack shrugged off his jacket, unbuttoning his waistcoat and linen shirt with impatient fingers.

His gaze never left Ella. The more he stripped, the bigger he seemed to her.

The room was small and tidy to begin with, spartan in its furnishings, but Jack and his composed hunger made it feel even tinier.

Grabbing the shirt from behind his neck, Jack tore it up and over his body, letting it float to the ground.

Ella wondered if he could see the desire in her eyes.

Did her hunger make the room seem small to him as well?

Because the feelings coalescing in her body—from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head—vibrated with such stark longing that Ella couldn’t stop herself from moving.

She stretched her legs before curling them into her chest as she lay on her side, studying him.

It was no wonder that Jack never seemed comfortable in his coats and jackets. They stifled someone like him. His muscles were long and lean, sinewy and corded. They spoke of promise and experience. A man who could see things through. A capable man.

In the soft, faint light, his body glowed from days spent out on the water.

A patch of rich golden hair covered his chest, only fading away when it was lost under the band of his trousers.

He was windswept and dry, an amber gem with no polish.

Jack was the whetstone, his abrasion used to sharpen others.

Ella’s mouth went dry. It struck her that she’d never actually wanted to touch a man before. Yes, she’d daydreamed of men touching her, but looking back, that was a childlike, innocent notion, so very restrained and formulaic. Touching Jack like that would be blasphemous. He called for boldness.

Jack climbed on the bed. On his knees, he took Ella’s hand. Chest to chest, he wrapped his arms around her, locking their halves together until their breathing found the same rhythm. His eyes were heavy as they scanned her face. “Do you know what we’re about to do?” he asked.

Ella could feel herself turn red. Not sure what to do with her hands, she flattened them against his chest, surprised by how soft the tawny hair was against her palms. “In theory,” she whispered, ducking her head.

It was a little late for shyness, but Ella couldn’t help herself.

The way Jack was looking at her, as if he would utterly consume her if she’d allow it…

It made her seem beautiful, desirable. Ella had never thought of herself like that before now, and it would take some getting used to.

“I’ve never done this before. Will that be a problem?

” She shook her head ruefully. “I mean, is that upsetting to you?”

Ella thought she’d hear laughter, something to assuage her enormous inadequacies. Nothing came.

Jack cupped her jaw and raised her eyes back to his. His expression was patient, his touch so very gentle and giving. “I have done this before,” he replied. “Is that upsetting to you?”