Excerpt of My Wicked Pirate by Rona Sharon

“You're beautiful. How is it possible you'll be escaping my clutches for the second time?”

Alanis's body came alive under his touch. “Where did we meet before?”

Eros grinned. “A ball in Versailles three years ago. Your gown was the color of your hair.”

“Gold brocade,” she recalled with astonishment. “You were at a ball in Versailles?”

“You stood out in a sea of tired faces painted with rouge, white chalk, and false patches. It wasn't difficult to single you out as you circled the crowds with Madame de Montespan. I thought you were a courtesan, Alanis.”

“A courtesan?” She smiled wickedly. A woman of the night. A temptress who brought men to their knees. The opposite of what she encountered in a mirror every day.

“I followed you around, plotting seductions in my head, until an elderly duke and a blond viscount stole you from right under my nose.” He grinned ruefully. “I lost my chance.”

“My grandfather and Lucas,” she concluded with a smile full of wonder.

“They were extremely protective of you, which verified you were an unmarried lady, not a demimondaine. I knew I could never have you. Even if I had begged for an introduction, they wouldn't have allowed it.” His teeth flashed sinfully white. “My reputation is not tolerated within a mile of an innocent debutante.”

“Is it that terrible?” she teased, and frowned. “Why don't I remember you?” With his great height and very handsome head, he was hardly invisible. “This is all quite astonishing.”

His thumb caressed her soft lips. “You couldn't see me, Amore. You were guarded well.”

“I see you now,” she whispered.

“Now you are mine.” He bent his head and brushed his mouth across hers. His lips felt soft and warm, and when she didn't recoil, they lingered, slow, tender, coaxing. She melted inside. Her eyelids sank. She felt his arms stealing inside her cloak, around her waist, pressing her to his torso. His heat, his scent - a musky blend of cognac, fire, and something else, more intoxicating than the sunny air or the salty breeze - tantalized her.

“Eros…” She sighed, amazed how this strong, hot-blooded Italian, who only three nights ago had been a terrible enemy to fear and hate, had cast such a spell on her that her entire self responded to his kisses, to the feel of his large body crushing her to him. Nothing had ever come close to how she felt at that moment. She finally understood what it meant to be alive.

Eros kissed her as one enjoyed a scoop of cream - thoroughly, unhurriedly. The tip of his tongue dampened her lips, seducing them to part for him. Though hesitant at first, she complied. Her tongue touched his, and a heady wave of pleasure swamped her. Low sounds rose in his throat as her response gathered confidence and their kiss deepened. His mouth was no longer tame but hot and needful. He tasted her, stroked her, pushed himself deeper inside of her…