on>
Praise for SECRETS OF SIN
“The steamy sun of the Caribbean is nothing compared to the wicked heat between Emiline and Reinier. Submission, obsession, and passion sizzle on the pages of this mouthwatering debut.”
—Kate Douglas, author of the Wolf Tales series
“Sensuality at its best!”
—Diana Cosby, author of His Woman
Secrets of Sin
CHLOE HARRIS
KENSINGTON BOOKS
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
To John Donne (1572-1631)
and
You, dear reader.
Acknowledgments
Chloe Harris would like to thank both her amazing agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, and her rock star editor, Amy Pyle. She could not have asked for better!
Barbra individually would like to thank:
My parents for their patience and support and Christine for believing in me even when I had my moments of doubt.
Noelle individually would like to thank:
The Carolina Romance Writers. Their support has been invaluable.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
1
If a lady was thinking of doing the unthinkable, she should dress unobtrusively. That didn’t include not looking one’s best.
Emiline brushed a fold out of her skirts.
Raise your skirts for me. Are you naked underneath?
How she despised those haunting memories. She pressed her eyes closed. Sometimes darkness could scatter them. Reluctant silence spread in her mind and she opened her eyes again.
Emiline was thankful she’d chosen a simple, light turquoise linen gown for the journey. The flimsy lace around the short sleeves and her décolletage was just enough ornament. Too much to mistake her for a common lady and just a sufficient enough amount to show interested eyes how high her standing really was.
Sit. I want your legs spread, knees up by your ears. Show yourself to me.
Emiline tried to ban his words from her mind with a curt shake of her head. Her response to him had been disgusting. She’d let him humiliate her; she’d allowed him to make her beg for his touch. Emiline could still see his vivid green eyes, recalling that very special glitter when he heard her desperate plea. She thought she could even hear his virile, soft laugh in reply.
Arousal shivered through her when she saw him kneel down in front of her. His hands rose and he slowly ran them down the inner side of her thighs. With every inch they advanced toward her, she felt her core spasm just a little, pumping more of that inviting moistness out of her. She didn’t dare move. Not because she was afraid to, but because she loved the eroticism of the moment. Each and every moment with him was wonderfully special, and she enjoyed it to the full, this whole new world he’d shown her.
Her breathing had almost stopped. He seemed so fascinated with her, watching his hands, his pale hands compared to her bronze-colored skin, wander lower. And they did, but his touch was light, too light. Just his thumbs brushed over her creamy folds; then suddenly he squeezed her erect, sensitized nub between the tips of them. Her head fell against the back of the chair. Sizzling sparks of longing shot through her body as violent as a bolt of lightning tearing a tree apart.
He looked up at her as he increased the pressure on her nub between his thumbs. His pale green eyes had darkened, yet they looked as if they shone with an inner light. It was just the afternoon sun, Emiline told herself. It bathed half of him in darkness.
“Tell me you want me.”
Emiline was fighting for breath, gulping in just enough air to tell him that.
“Tell me.”
She moaned as he increased the pressure even more until it would be almost painful if it weren’t so sensual. Yes, yes. She nodded. She wanted him. She needed him. Her whole being existed just for him now. She loved him. They’d said the words, of course. But up to that moment she hadn’t really known what they meant. She loved him with every fiber of her being.
Emiline never had the time to utter anything but soft, low moans because he’d wrapped her hair around his wrist. Twisting those long chocolate curls he’d said he liked so much, he forced her head back up to watch him as he ripped the fly of his breeches open. His hand was shaking with need as much as her body did.
Then his lips were on hers, taking her mouth with a greedy, hard kiss. If she didn’t know better, she’d call it desperate. Oh, she was desperate too. She was sure she was going to burn alive if he didn’t—
He stuffed her. She loved when he took her fast and seated himself in her with one hard thrust; but this time he took her slow, shivering with every inch he slid deeper. He even closed his eyes as if memorizing that very moment, then the next, and the next…
Emiline moaned helplessly into his mouth, her tongue swirling around his, chasing it back and forth. She quivered against him, her secret muscles sucking him in, recklessly commanding him to take her deeper, faster.
They broke their passionate kiss when he was finally seated to the hilt. A hairsbreadth apart, they moaned against each other’s lips. His free hand came around to the small of her back to shove her closer to him. His other hand didn’t lessen its tight grip on her hair. The linen of her dress chafed her erect, hard nipples. The back of the chair bit into her shoulders. Each spot where slight pinpricks spread added to the pleasure until her body roared with want.
With a quick flick of his tongue over her bottom lip, he drew her attention. When her eyes met his, her heart gave another stutter. He was so beautiful. And he was here in her arms.
He rolled his hips back and left her. The sudden emptiness made her want to cry. But the next instant, he thrust into her, hard and fast.
The chair squeaked. Her shoulders would be sore. They would be a constant, pleasant reminder for the next day or two. His torso rolled against hers, increasing the chafing sensation on her breasts. They, too, would sting in the days to come.
He drove his member in and out of her slick, clamping core. They’d shared many ardent moments in the last year, but each time it was more passionate. Burning waves of pleasure washed through her and rebounded from the contact points of his member in her, from his chest rubbing against her breasts. Her hips answered his every thrust, grinding against him, silently begging him for more.
He deepened his rolling thrusts. He pumped in and out of her, stroking her so deliciously that the hot friction they both created started that surge that flowed