Sea Mistress by Candace McCarthy Page B

but her hands were clumsy in her haste. She couldn’t quite reach the first hook.
    Seth caught her arms gently. He captured her hands and awarded her a tender smile, before kissing each of her palms in a feather-light caress that made her sigh with pleasure and shut her eyes.
    â€œTurn around,” he commanded softly. He studied the row of hooks and eyes and felt a moment’s impatience. He wondered if she wore a corset, and hoped she didn’t, for his patience was barely enough for him to undo her gown. His fingers fumbled over the first hook and then grew steady as he went down her back, releasing each one.
    He held his breath as he parted the edges of the cotton garment, exhaling again with a relieved sigh when he found no corset. He saw the bright white linen of her shift and longed to tear it away, to see beneath the undergarment to the soft, white flesh of his dreams.
    Bess took control of undressing then, removing her gown, until she was clad only in her shift. Her breasts looked full and aroused as they pushed against the smooth fabric. Her waist was tiny, and her hips flared in perfect symmetry of form.
    Seth’s gaze roamed down her length, flaming as he studied her lovely legs . . . the shapely calves and thighs, ankles white and dainty. On her feet, she wore slippers, which she kicked off while he watched. Her bare feet gleamed white with small, pretty toes against the lush green grass.
    â€œSeth?” Her voice was weak and nervous among the soft sounds of the night . . . the sigh of the breeze in the tall grass, the gentle lap of the water against the shore.
    He looked up from her feet and stared at her, awed by her expression as well as her silken body.
    â€œSeth, what’s wrong?” She looked as if she was afraid she’d done something terrible.
    â€œNothing, my sweet,” he murmured, and then he opened his arms. “Come here.”
    Without hesitation, she flowed into his embrace; and her trust in him heated Seth’s blood, and made his heart sing in silent joy.
    And then he kissed her, and the essence of his world became Bess Metcalfe. The honey taste of her lips . . . her tantalizing fragrance . . . the warmth of her soft womanly curves.
    The kiss quickly escalated into a deep mating of mouths. Bess seemed as anxious to touch as he was to fondle. She moaned and responded as he sought to pleasure her. Her enjoyment of his touch heightened his desire, and his own pleasure was intense.
    â€œPlease,” she whispered.
    â€œPlease what?” he asked, pulling back to study her passion-drugged face. “Touch you? Kiss your bare breasts?”
    She inhaled sharply at the mention of her breasts.
    â€œIs that what you want, Lisabeth? For me to kiss you?” He touched the area where her left nipple formed a little peak of the soft cotton. “Here?” He saw her swallow as she nodded.
    They reached for the hem of her shift simultaneously. Seth felt the heated brush of her hands as he helped her remove her only remaining garment. Then she was standing before him, naked, her smooth white body gleaming in the soft, incandescent light of the moon. And Seth gathered her against him before he lowered her to the ground.
    â€œMy God, you’re so lovely,” he whispered with reverence.
    She lay against the soft cushion of sweet-scented grass, her flaxen hair a contrast against the dark green.
    Seth kissed her breast, her belly, and the curve of her hip and thigh. His original intention to go slowly vanished when Bess stroked him wherever she could reach. Their caresses became wilder, desperately seeking. Their mouths sought contact and then mated.
    â€œSeth!” she cried.
    He groaned when she opened her legs in invitation. He touched his fingers to her secret nub of desire and watched her shock. “It’s all right,” he told her. “I won’t hurt you.”
    She bucked off the ground, thrusting against his hand as he played her,