“That’s good, Georgie. I’m glad you did well. But I’m sorry that you had to. I should have done better.”
The sudden bleakness of his expression ripped at her heart. “No, Thom. It was good of you to want to, to try to. But you’re not the only one in this marriage who is responsible for my happiness and well-being. Or for yours.”
He gave a slight nod. Not of agreement, she saw, but the sort of nod someone gave when they didn’t believe something, yet they didn’t want to argue, and there wasn’t anything left for them to say. Despite her words, he still thought that he’d failed as a husband.
She would convince him otherwise. But she needed to know how to do it, and first learn more about this man she’d married. Not by assuming, but by asking.
“Was it truly such a huge difference, Thom, when the tower came down? In everything you thought and felt?”
He hesitated for a long second, then his throat worked and he said, “Like coming out of the fog into bright sun.”
“But that’s a good thing.” Though the thickness of his voice and that hesitation made her wonder. “Isn’t it?”
“It is. Now.”
“But not then?”
“It was then. But it was all at once. All these things I never felt, all at once. Fear. Rage. Everything. I went mad with them.”
She couldn’t imagine it. Not her calm, ordered husband. But perhaps that explained why he was so controlled now. “Did being that way frighten you?”
“Yes. I was more like an animal than a man. I wanted to be a man again. The things I did, Georgie . . .” Voice strained into nothing, he shook his head.
Her heart ached with every painful word. Talking about this was clearly difficult for him. She could barely make herself ask more. But she needed to know. How could he ever think he wasn’t a man? “What sort of things?”
“Killing the men trying to put us down. Rutting.”
Rutting? Did he mean . . . “With women?”
“Not just. Men, too.”
“Oh.” Georgiana didn’t know what to say. That was completely outside her experience, except as whispers and jokes. But Thom didn’t seem to think one or the other any different—only his lack of control seemed to bother him. So that would be her only concern, too. “You did that during the frenzies, too?”
“It was the same. Though the tower made us feel it, then. But after it came down, that need was overwhelming in the same way. I was still trying to get ahold of myself. And all around me, others were trying to do the same. Just a look or a touch could set us off, and we’d fuck in a street.” His jaw clenched. “I’m sorry, Georgie. I shouldn’t have said.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I wanted to know, Thom.” Her heart hurting, she stroked her fingers down his beard. Some of what he said, the way he said it—all rough and shocking, but so had his life been. “You weren’t like that with me.”
“I made myself control it. I didn’t want to hurt you. Back then, I only cared about what I felt. Getting into someone and spending inside them. I didn’t want to be an animal with you.” He met her eyes, and the torment she saw in his almost ripped her open. “But it’s still in me. All of it’s still in me, Georgie.”
“Oh, Thom. If feeling more than you can bear and wanting someone makes you an animal, then I am one, too.” She leaned over him, her fingers sliding into his thick hair. “But you’re a man. The finest I know.”
Without waiting for his answer, Georgiana bent her head. Her lips pressed to his. She felt the sharp catch of breath, but that was all. He didn’t move. Still controlling himself.
He didn’t need to, not with her. But perhaps she would never persuade him with words alone.
She softly kissed her way from the corner of his mouth to the center of his firm bottom lip. A shudder ripped through his big body. Steel hands came up to frame her face, then he kissed her back, his mouth so gentle and slow that she wanted to cry from the sweetness of it.
Her husband. Her man.
Her breath hitched. Immediately, he pulled away.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Georgie,” he said hoarsely.
“You won’t.”
Through the shadows over his eyes, she saw that he wasn’t convinced. But he was not the only one responsible for their happiness. She was, too. And when necessary, she would see to a task herself.
“May I touch you, then?”
His brows drew together in a dark line. “Me?”
“Yes.” Smiling, she smoothed her palm along the heavy muscles atop his shoulder, marveling at the seamless meld of hot skin to cool steel. “When you were with fever, I washed you down with ice water, and saw more of you than at any time since we’ve married. And I was so worried then, I didn’t think of how appealing you looked—but now I cannot stop thinking of all that I saw. Of all that I’d like to touch now that you’re well. And how I want to kiss you again.”
Expression torn by desire and worry, his face darkened in the silvery light. But he didn’t deny her. “Anything you want of me, Georgie.”
His mouth, first. This time, he didn’t hesitate before kissing her back, half rising to meet her. Not so sweet now, but hot, his mouth opening against hers to suck lightly at her upper lip before moving to the lower, gentle tugs that pulled at a painful need inside her. Heart racing, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath, though she could feel the air coming and going through her parted lips, sharp little pants heated by Thom’s mouth.
Her fingers fisting in his hair, she pushed closer. A gentle lick against her bottom lip sent pleasure bursting into a desperate ache. She whimpered low in her throat, wanting more and more.
Thom dragged his mouth away. “Am I hurting you?”
“No. You can’t. Please, Thom.”
Lying across his heaving chest, she pulled him back into the kiss, wanting him to feel what she had, licking and tugging at his firm lips.
With a groan, his hands gripped her hips. He hauled her fully on top of him, her thighs straddling his abdomen, her chemise sliding up past her knees. His mouth opened under hers and suddenly there was the more she’d wanted, in the steady pressure between her legs and the thrusting penetration of his tongue, but they didn’t ease the ache, only made it sharper and harder.
Deep and hungry, each kiss drew more whimpers from her throat, started the rocking of her hips. His bare skin so hot between her thighs, and the ridged muscles of his stomach so hard, she couldn’t keep herself from rubbing against him, where she felt so empty and needy and . . . wet.
Oh.
Face suddenly hot, she made herself stop moving. Thom’s kiss slowed, then he eased back to look up at her.
“All right?”
“Yes.” Just embarrassed. And she couldn’t hide it. Her skin felt so warm that he could probably see her blush, even in the moonlight—and he had to feel the wetness all over his stomach.
But she didn’t want to move. It had all been so wonderful. Was still so wonderful. Even though her lack of control was completely mortifying.
Thom studied her for a long second before he nodded. “Sit up, then. Let me see you.”
She did, forcing herself to hold his gaze instead of turning away while he looked. It was so unnerving. Georgiana knew herself to be an attractive woman, but this wasn’t like being judged and found pretty or wanting. She felt exposed. And even in her chemise, she felt bare. Nothing could be hidden. Her lips felt swollen and hot. Her stiffened nipples stood at attention beneath the cotton, the moonlight exaggerating their shapes with long shadows. Her legs were opened wide across his abdomen, her skin visible from the middle of her thighs to her feet.
She didn’t know where to put her hands. To stop their trembling, she braced them against his chest.
Steel glinted in the dark. Thom’s fingers hooked beneath the straps of her chemise. Slowly, he dragged them down her arms, smooth metal gliding over skin. Cool air kissed her breasts. The pink flesh around her nipples puckered and tightened.
Oh, s
he couldn’t bear it. She squeezed her eyes closed.
They flew open again at the rough sound of his voice. “I’ll never be able to stop thinking of seeing you like this, Georgie.”
Just as she’d told him, only moments ago. When he’d been uncertain. When she’d been trying to persuade him that he needn’t be.
Oh, God. How she loved this man.
And though she still trembled, the need to look away had gone. More exposed than she’d ever been—yet no longer wanting to hide. She only wanted him.
She found her courage again. “Are you going to touch me, Thom?”
“I am. After this.”
He dragged her down for a sweet, hot kiss. Her bare breasts flattened against his hair-roughened chest, and it was such a perfect, wonderful sensation, skin against skin.
And steel against skin. His hands slid down her sides. Her breathing ragged, Georgiana sat up again, then bit her bottom lip to keep from whimpering and rocking when his palms cupped her breasts. Utterly still, she watched him touch her, his eyes burning and his face rapt as he looked.
Maybe not just looking. “Can you feel what you touch?”
He slowly nodded, his gaze never leaving her breasts. “Yes. Not everything. But some. Like soft and hard.”
His thumbs swept across her taut nipples. Unexpected, sharp pleasure seared like fire through sensitive flesh. Georgiana gasped and arched into his palms. “Thom. Oh, Thom.”
Expression stark with need, he slid his hands down. “The difference between cloth and skin.”
His fingertips skimmed over the chemise bunched at her hips, down the tops of her thighs, stopping at her hem. His gaze lifted to hers. Trembling, Georgiana didn’t look away from his eyes as the fingers of his right hand ventured up the delicate flesh of her inner thigh. Higher. Tension tightened her legs against his sides, pushing her away from his touch. His left hand caught her hip. Between her thighs, his fingers neared her center, slipping over skin left slick by her arousal.
“I feel heat.” His voice had deepened near to a growl. “And wet.”
Oh, sweet God. “Thom—”
A soft touch of steel. Georgiana froze, her hands braced against his chest and her gaze locked on Thom’s, but her entire being focused on the sensation of his fingers slowly stroking her most intimate flesh, slippery with need.
Except for his fingers, Thom’s body had stiffened to solid stone, his heavy muscles corded with strain. “All right, Georgie?”
Unable to speak, unable to breathe, she only nodded.
A low groan rumbled through his chest. Parting her, he delved deeper through her folds, his thumb sliding up to rub at the apex of her sex. Shock and sudden, needy pleasure jolted her hips forward. Georgiana cried out, her fingers curling against his skin.
Desperately, she rocked against his hand. “More. Again.”
Her plea was met with a tortured groan. Thom reared up, catching her lips in a searing kiss. His thumb circled her slick bud, and she gave a strangled cry into his mouth.
As if propelled by that sound, Thom turned and bore her back to the bed—lips still fused to hers, his fingers still stroking through her wet heat. Overwhelmed by need, Georgiana clung to his shoulders, widening her thighs, but he didn’t settle between them. He stretched out alongside her, instead, his erect length heavy against her hip. Oh, God. She needed him inside, where she was aching and empty. Hands diving into his hair, she tried to pull him on top of her. He didn’t move.
Frustrated, frantic for him, she whipped her head aside, breaking the kiss. “I need you inside me, Thom. Don’t leave me like this.”
“I won’t leave you.” As rough as gravel, his reply was followed by the tight circling of his thumb. Helplessly, her hips lifted against his hand, urging a stronger touch. “But I won’t risk hurting you. Let me please you like this, instead.”
His mouth opened over hers again, stopping her response. Steel warmed by her skin, his big hand delved deeper between her legs, the tip of his middle finger stroking through her folds to find her entrance. With a moan of realization, Georgiana stilled. Her body shook, anticipation and need and uncertainty building into a furious storm. Thom groaned, stroking through her wetness again. His long finger began a steady penetration.
Not the same. Not as big. But still tight and full and wonderful, sliding back and forth inside her, and all of her body moving like liquid with him.
He pushed another finger alongside the first, a deep and slow invasion. She cried his name, but nothing else inside her was coherent, just a spiraling ache and tension fed by more pleasure than she’d ever known. Her head fell back. Uncontrollable moans escaped her throat. Writhing against his hand, she found his lips again, Thom, her Thom, his mouth so hot and his need as deep as hers, his tongue thrusting with the same slow rhythm as his fingers. Kissing him endlessly, though the ache became unbearable and her body didn’t feel liquid anymore, but sharp and hard, until Thom groaned brokenly into her mouth, his slippery thumb rolling over that sensitive bud.
She splintered apart. Nothing that was Georgiana, just pieces of her. Her fingers, clenching hard in Thom’s hair. Her mouth open under his, but no longer kissing, just open and soundless and not even taking in air, because her lungs had stiffened into iron. Her spine bowed, and her toes curled, her knees bent and locked into place, as if they’d been jerked up toward the center of her, which hadn’t locked or stiffened but was clamping around Thom’s fingers in tight pulls, drawing him deeper.
Refusing to let him go.
Then it was gone, and she could breathe again, her heart pounding harder than when she’d dragged him up her steps from the beach. With his back to the portholes, Thom was all in shadow, but she found his mouth again easily—and felt his smile against hers.
Still inside her, his fingers suddenly pumped deeper. Georgiana gasped as a shudder wracked her body, her inner muscles clamping around him again.
“I felt that, too,” he said.
“Thom!” she cried, then laughed, though she had to hide her face against his shoulder.
Gently, he withdrew his hand. His lips pressed against her hair. “All right?”
“Wonderful.” Absolutely perfect.
She knew it wouldn’t have hurt if he’d entered her himself, instead of using his fingers. But this had been better than she’d ever imagined. She would eventually convince him, but for now, she could not remember ever being so satisfied, and drained, and energized all at once.
But Thom had not been satisfied, she realized.
Georgiana lifted her head. He lay on his side next to her. With a push against his shoulder, she urged him onto his back. He went, the moonlight washing over him again—all hard muscle and steel and his bold, incredible face.
“I haven’t touched you yet,” she told him. She hadn’t done more than kissing.
His fingers stroked down her hair. “You can touch me all you like. But let me clean up first.”
“Clean up?” Her gaze swept over him. His heavy erection still bulged behind his linen drawers, though not as fiercely as it had earlier. But there was no wetness. Just on his stomach, and that was . . . not all hers.
“I have two hands, Georgie. They were both busy.”
Though her face blazed, she met his eyes again. “I imagine your arms are worth a fortune for that improvement alone.”
His deep laugh rang through the cabin. “They are.”
Grinning, she leaned over him. Her lips pressed to his. Thom caught her before she could pull away, lingering over her mouth with a sweet kiss.
He drew back, his eyes burning. “I’m going to clean up. Then I’m going to hold you all night.”
Her heart filled. “I’ll be waiting for you right here.”
SIX
Thom woke before dawn with Georgie burrowed in against him, her dark hair spread across her pillow and her leg cocked over his stomach. For the longest time, he didn’t move. Just held her, breathing in that flowery scent.
The dive toda
y stood a good chance of killing him. But that deep water didn’t scare him near as much as knowing what would happen to her if he didn’t come up.
So he would. There just wasn’t any other option. If Thom could have, he’d have torn through the airship now, killing everyone on it who presented a threat. But Southampton wasn’t a fool. He’d be expecting that. Especially in the hours before the dive, when desperation might drive any man to attempt his escape. Thom would probably be shot the second he opened the cabin door. In the time he’d been lying awake, he’d heard the muffled voices of four mercenaries in the passageway, but no footsteps leading them away. Not a moment had passed without someone standing guard outside the stateroom, but Southampton had recently quadrupled the watch.
At his side, Georgiana stirred. Her lashes fluttered across his skin.
For the first time, his wife was waking up in his arms. Her hand slid across his chest, her fingers curving around his ribs. But though there were tasks to be done, she didn’t immediately lift her head, or make any move that would take her closer to getting out of bed. She just held on to him, as if there was nothing in the world more important to do.
And if he’d known how it would feel to have her there, his heart bursting out of his chest and his throat so full and tight that he couldn’t have spoken a word if he’d wanted to, Thom would never have been able to pass a single night away from her.
He didn’t know how he ever would again.
* * *
Though he’d gotten into a canvas diving suit by himself a hundred times, Thom didn’t protest when Georgiana insisted on helping him, checking every seam and seal in the inner and outer layers. He liked having her close. And since he’d be going up on deck in a few minutes, this would be the last time they’d speak without having Southampton or any of the mercenaries listening in.
There were a thousand things he wanted to say. But her life mattered more than all of them. “Georgie.”
She glanced up from his waist, where she’d been tugging on the belt that would anchor him to the airship’s tether cable. After Thom found Oriana, he’d hook the tether to the submersible and use the cable as a guide back to the surface—or tonight, as a guide through the dark waters. And if Thom got into trouble before he reached the bottom, they could haul him back up with it.
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