She stumbled into silence when he appeared at her side.

How a man as large as Phoenix could move with such stealth she couldn't fathom. He stood behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his skin and the warmth of his breath as it gusted across her shoulder in unsteady measure. He tugged the shirt from her hands and tossed it away. Wordlessly, he reached for the jar and opened it, scooping up a small amount of the salve. Olivia watched unmoving, arrested by his proximity, as he set the jar aside and picked up her hands. He began to rub the salve into her chafed wrists, his touch strong yet gentle and soothing. The moan that rose in her throat escaped without thought.

"You like my touch," he whispered hoarsely, "don't you?"

Helplessly, she lifted her face and stared into his eyes. She swallowed hard. "It burns."

Phoenix nodded, his gaze knowing. "Offer me your mouth." Although his voice was soft, there was no mistaking the command.

Caught in his spell, Olivia's lips parted as his head dropped to hers. At the first contact, her knees went weak. She would have fallen if he hadn't drawn her close. Her senses flooded with his taste, her body softening instinctively for his. His head slanted, finding the perfect fit, and his tortured groan made her dizzy.

Arms around her waist, Phoenix lifted her feet from the floor and carried her to the small corner table. He kicked the chair aside and laid her on the polished surface. Following her down, his mouth never left hers, his tongue sweeping inside with caressing licks.

He gripped the torn edges of her gown, and with a harsh, impatient tug, he ripped the garment and the chemise below it to the waist. His hands went immediately to her aching breasts, plucking the tips, twisting them, the way he must have sensed she desired. Her sex flooded with moisture. He was ravishing her, pillaging and plundering, and it was just what she wanted him to do, what she'd wanted him to do since he'd first come onto her ship.