Instead of smooth and practiced, he was grasping and hungry, thrusting his tongue past the barrier of her teeth and taking her mouth the way he longed to take her body. Deeply, thoroughly, leaving no space unexplored. He slid his hand down her neck to the opening of her robe. Freeing her wrists, he held her loosely, grasping her lapels and slipping his forefinger under the terry cloth. Stroking gently, he moved it closer and closer to her breast. She moaned deep in her throat, and something savage was unleashed inside him. It felt as if he’d never been with a woman. All the finesse he’d carefully cultivated over the years to protect himself from this kind of emotion was gone—stripped bare so that nothing was left but the rough-edged man who’d grown up in the swamp. The man who’d had to leave that life behind for vengeance. He didn’t want to dwell on that. Not now, when he finally had Jayne’s made-for-sin mouth under his. She tasted just as he’d expected her to taste. Headily, he drank from her lips, pulling back only when he became aware of the low sounds coming from her throat.
