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…