The Sinner Who Seduced Me by Stefanie Sloane Read Free Book Online Page B

to the top deck two at a time, welcoming the briny air that hit him full in the face once he reached the top. The cabin below had been filled with Clarissa’s delicate flowery scent. Even now, it teased his nostrils and stroked his senses into painful awareness.
    The ship’s captain was on the bridge. Not wanting to converse, James turned in the opposite direction, successfully skirting a handful of sailors as he made his way to the stern. Looking out over the darkening sky and the sea below, James grimly acknowledged that dealing with Clarissa was going to be far more difficult than he’d first estimated. Even after all the time that had passed since they’d parted, she could still cut him to the quick like no other. The fire in her eyes and hurt in her voice made him ache just as before. His first instinct was to react with passion and heat—no thought for the consequences, no ability to see beyond the moment.
    A steady rain had begun, but James didn’t seek shelter, remaining at the rail. The moisture slowly seeped its way through his clothing, and yet he stayed. He hoped the damp would wash away the essence of her. He flexed his fingers, the smooth satin of her silky skin remaining on the tips. He’d prepared himself for her dramatic response to—well, in all honesty, everything involving her. But the smell of her? The feel of her? Her soft body under his hands as he’d pulled the shirt from her waistband and unwound the bindings from her breasts? It was too soon for such contact, clearly.
    The rain began to beat at him in earnest and the wind joined in, whipping about James in an ominous fashion. He’d forgotten what it was like with Clarissa. Once, she’d consumed his every thought and he, hers, until they’d not known where one began and the other ended. And then she’d taken it all from him.
    He gripped the railing as the ship began to pitch, widening his stance to keep his balance on the rolling deck. There was no point in revisiting the past, he thought grimly. He’d done so countless times after Clarissa had departed London for the Continent, and in the years that followed. It always ended the same way: James heartbroken, with nothing left but his work with the Young Corinthians. She’d turned her back on him once, refusing to listen. God willing, she would not fail him this time. He only hoped her love for her mother meant more to Clarissa than the love she’d once professed for him.
    “You broke my heart,” he muttered. Clarissa’s words were as unbelievable to him now as they had been when she’d first uttered them five years before in her mother’s parlor.
    If he’d been able to tell her the truth back then, perhaps she might have continued to trust him. A wave splashed over the railing, further soaking James, but he hardly noticed. She should have trusted him, he thought bitterly. With or without an explanation, Clarissa should have believed him when he’d assured her he loved her. And she hadn’t.
    A deckhand rushed up to James, pointing just beyond his shoulder. “A nasty one’s coming in. Best get belowdecks, sir.”
    James turned to see a growing thicket of black clouds rolling on the horizon, the storm’s ferocity threatening as it ate up the sky.
    “Get me a pair of scissors. I’ll wait here,” James instructed the deckhand with authority. “Now,” he snapped, causing the man to jump and run toward the bridge.
    Clarissa was a vain woman—something she had always readily admitted. James had secretly found this charming, though he’d teased her relentlessly for the weakness. Above all else, she’d valued her hair. Long, silken, and so black the thick mane had a bluish sheen, Clarissa’s hair was beautiful.
    James looked out at the choppy waters. He’d known she would have to cut it if they were to have any hope of substituting her for St. Michelle.
    But he’d been cruel to announce it in such a dismissive way. He’d done it on purpose. Her insinuation that he was now a