One Night to Remember

by Kristin Miller

  While he planted one hand on the small of her back and angled her into him, the other found her breast.

  “Yes?” he breathed against her mouth, his fingers dancing around the lace top of her corset.

  She nodded fast, struggling to find the air to speak. “Yes.”

  Moving with more control than Elizabeth thought possible, Thomas guided her onto the bed and situated himself beside her. Palming her stomach, he laid her back and lifted her arms over her head, then ever so slowly, pulled down the top of her dress.

  She ached for his mouth to smear kisses across her skin. Yearned for the sensations to continue spiraling down her body.

  As his mouth found her breast, she moaned and laid her head back.

  Yes. This is exactly what she’d wanted and so much more.

  His tongue swirled around her nipple, fast at first, hungry and desperate. Then his control snapped back into place like a steel trap. He licked her nipple slower. Slower still. Until he was licking the pink tip with long, thick draws.

  He was liable to drive her mad.

  Chills shot across her chest and radiated through her body, gathering at her center. Her legs squirmed beneath the light folds of her gown, anxious for his hand to find her wet and wanting.

  As if he could sense her passion rising, Thomas caught her mouth and slid his tongue past her lips. Between the sweetness of his mouth and the spicy scent of his cologne, Elizabeth lost herself in him. The delicious weight of his body. The breath punching out of his lungs. His heart marching in time with hers.

  She’d never felt more aware of another person in all her life.

  Exploring her body with increased fervor, Thomas palmed her breasts. Clutched at the material covering her waist. And finally, when Elizabeth thought she couldn’t wait a second longer, Thomas ruffled up the bottom of her dress and slid his hand along the smooth length of her thigh.

  Gooseflesh scampered across her skin, following the path of his fingers.

  “You’re not wearing undergarments.” The baritone of his voice strained.

  “No.” She trembled. “I find them restricting.”

  Thomas’s body went rigid. Tight as a steel rod. Muscles bulged out of his shirt. His jaw ticked faster, accelerating the pulse that throbbed on his neck.

  Maybe leaving her hands bound wasn’t such a good idea after all. She couldn’t touch him the way she wanted to. And good Lord in heaven, did she want to. She could soothe that pulse on his jaw. Rub her hand over the stubble of his chin. She could stroke him over his trousers and make him harden to stone in her hand.

  He sucked in a short breath as his hand found her center, wet with desire. His gaze drifted to hers, heavy lidded and…painful. He groaned and slowly pushed a finger inside her. She bucked as his palm met the mound between her legs and gasped when he leaned over her, pressing his chest against hers.

  With each stroke of his finger against her most sensitive flesh, his tongue slipped into her mouth, driving her on, urging her to arch against him. She kissed him hard. Opening up wide. Letting her legs fall open as tingling sensations crept in.

  “I want more,” he said, nipping at her lower lip.

  She arched her hips up in answer. “Then take more.”

  “At your request, miss.”

  He heeled off his boots and removed his pants. He worked quickly, settling at the foot of the bed before Elizabeth had time to assist with her gown. Pushing her dress over her waist, Thomas spread her legs, and using both hands, arched her knees up. Instead of meeting her hip to hip, Thomas dove down headfirst.

  “What are you—” she began, and hissed when he put his mouth on her.

  Shock nearly jerked Elizabeth off the bed. No one had ever kissed her that way before. It was devious. Wicked in nature.

  She’d never felt anything more wonderful.

  His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue a firefly that shimmered in and out of her. She went languid, her knees weak and shivering against his ears. As she cried out, her hands wrapping around his head, Thomas pulled back, glaring at her over a mound of flaming lace and chiffon.

  “Your hands, Miss Scott.” He licked her once. A quick flick of his tongue that shot a lightning bolt of lust through her stomach. “Above your head.”

  Breath hitching, heart racing, Elizabeth did as instructed, lying them on the pillow behind her.

  His tongue plunged into her core, ripping the air from her lungs. Alternating swift licks with slow, lazy circles, Thomas drove Elizabeth wild. She thrashed against the sheets, a hollow ache buzzing in her middle. She needed the pressure of his body over hers again. She needed his hands on her body and his tongue in her mouth.

  If he continued to tease her this way, the dull throb in her center would peak and soothe away before she had time to truly savor it. The sensations bubbling through her were foreign and glorious. He—they—couldn’t stop…not yet.

  This time it was Elizabeth who wanted more.

  “Please,” she said, moving her hips against his mouth. “Take me.”

  No words were needed. The instant she opened her mouth, Thomas slid up her body and sheathed himself inside her in one smooth stroke. He held her gaze every inch of the way, drenching himself to the hilt, stretching her to the fullest. When Elizabeth thought he couldn’t push inside her any more—that he may’ve been too large to fit—their hips met, setting off an explosion inside her.

  Wrapping her legs tight around his hips, Elizabeth gasped and met his eyes.

  “There you are, love,” he said, and pulled taut, bracing himself on his arms.

  As he thrust a second time, Elizabeth brought her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her mouth. Thomas kissed her on a moan. Suckled her bottom lip into her mouth. Drove into her over and over again.

  When their bodies molded together as one, his shaft swelling within her, his lips on her lips, his tongue rolling along hers, Elizabeth let the feelings simmering beneath her skin erupt to the surface. She cried out as her nails gouged the ridges of muscle on his back.

  All the sensations that’d been flickering inside her gathered together, tighter, hotter, and then…exploded. Heat flashed through her body. Her core clenched, harder and harder, drawing on the thick length of him.

  Thomas’s body seized as she rode the last, undulating currents of her orgasm. With a low groan, he thrust one last time, held tight, and emptied himself into her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Thomas wasn’t looking forward to this moment. The moment when he and Elizabeth would go their separate ways. Where would she go? Back to the clothing store she’d mentioned? Would he ever see her again? Would he want to? No matter how she’d tied him up in knots, she was still a thief, the same as she was an hour ago. Just because he’d brushed his hands over the milky white span of her body, didn’t mean her intentions were any purer.

  Did that matter to him anymore? It should…Lord above, it should.

  There were too many questions worming their way out of him. Far too many.

  After removing the cuffs from Elizabeth’s wrists, they’d spent some time curled up in bed. They made small talk and laughed about how neither of them had done anything like this before. Under different circumstances, they probably would’ve fallen asleep in each other’s arms. He would’ve undressed her completely, and relished the skin to skin contact as she nestled into his chest.

  Instead, he’d gotten anxious about when his bunkmates would return and checked his watch.

  Elizabeth noticed and excused herself from his embrace. Using the mirror in the hutch, she tousled her blonde hair back to life, adjusting the red peacock feather that’d shifted off-kilter. She smoothed down the ruffles of her dress and adjusted the top with a little shimmy.

  Thomas put on his pants, boots, tucked in his shirt and left his tie hanging loose around his collar.

  When Elizabeth spun back around, she looked just as she had when Thomas first saw her. Polished perfection.

  “We haven’t much time
,” he said, and rose to meet her. He tugged her into his arms and laid her head on his chest. His heart was beating stronger than it had earlier. As if she’d somehow sparked new life into it. “We’ll be getting company any minute.”

  “I should retire to my room anyway. Ladies aren’t supposed to wander the halls this late.” She picked Lady Grace’s clutch off the table and handed it to him. “There’s no need to make this more complicated than it already is. I know you must report me.”

  Truth be told, Thomas didn’t know what the devil he was going to do about the crime at hand. He’d still have to explain how he came into possession of Lady Grace’s purse.

  “How much money did you take?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “About three hundred.”

  “More than I make in a month.”

  “Less than her husband gambles in an hour.”

  Their views were so starkly different. Elizabeth would defend her stance to the end—she’d done nothing wrong by stealing, as long as that theft benefited a lower class.

  Despite the fact that she had a twisted sort of conscious, Thomas asked the question that’d been sizzling on his lips. “May I see you again, Elizabeth?”

  “Perhaps.” She kissed him, slow and openmouthed, sending his world into a tailspin. Then she opened the stateroom door and strode into the hall. “You are an intriguing man, Mr. McGuire,” she called over her shoulder. “An adventure I didn’t see coming.”

  Thomas watched Elizabeth walk all the way down the corridor, the train of her gown swishing over the dusty rose runner. She didn’t look back. Not once. Something inside Thomas told him women like Elizabeth never did.

  Once she was out of sight, he retreated into the stateroom, took three hundred dollars from his wallet—nearly all he’d been saving for a fresh start in New York—and slipped it into Lady Grace’s clutch.

  He looped and tucked his tie, threw on his coat and pocketed the purse. If he didn’t run into the Master at Arms on the way to the bridge, Thomas thought about tracking down Lady Grace and saying someone had found her missing purse in the dining hall. All that mattered was that Lady Grace should recover her money and Miss Elizabeth shouldn’t be involved.

  After locking up his stateroom, Thomas wound his way up to the boat deck. He braced himself for the brisk night air and pushed out onto the first class promenade. The night was dark, nearly black save for the twinkling lights of the stars.

  No passengers milled about. They’d all retired indoors for the night. Smart move considering how biting cold the night had grown. It didn’t take but one breath for Thomas to chill to the bone. He cinched his coat tight and made his way forward to the wheelhouse, passing one of his stateroom bunkmates along the way.

  “’Bout time you show your face,” George said, his Irish accent thick. “Joseph left his post ten minutes ago to try and find ‘ya. We was beginnin’ to think you fell over the side.”

  Thomas feared he had fallen all right, but not into the Atlantic’s icy waters.

  “I’m only but five minutes late.” He checked his watch. Eleven thirty five. “If I gave you this kind of shite every time I had to cover your post for a few minutes, you’d be swimming in it.”

  “Aye, but you can expect me to be late. You’re always five early.”

  “Tonight,” Thomas said, remembering how wonderful Elizabeth had felt in his arms. “You’re lucky I showed up at all.”

  Thomas entered the wheelhouse and took his post near the back wall. A floppy haired, brown eyed fireman stood next to him, his arms folded over his chest.

  “Cold out tonight,” the fireman said, leaning over to make small talk. “It’s dropped below freezing.”

  Thomas nodded, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Been quiet like this long?”

  While two young officers checked gauges in front of him and one officer stood just outside the wheelhouse, they were silent, rarely breathing two words to one another.

  The fireman shook his head in answer. “Some pack ice and small growler warnings, but nothing major. Captain’s rerouted the ship to the southern shipping lane as a precaution.”

  “Icebergs?” Thomas hadn’t thought about the possibility, though the cold certainly was bitter enough to form them, wasn’t it?

  “The officer over there,” he nudged his chin at the officer standing outside the wheelhouse, “said there’s not much to worry over and if he isn’t worried, I’m not worried.”

  Thomas looked out over the helm, where the pointed bow of the ship ghosted through the water. Air froze in his lungs.

  There—hovering along the glossy black horizon—was the outline of something massive. A shadowed form, well over a hundred feet tall. Thomas stepped closer to the helm, squinting through the dark. It couldn’t be. Surely his eyes were blurred, playing tricks.

  Three rings chimed from the wall. Sixth Officer Moody raced to the phone.

  “What is it?” Moody asked, as Thomas moved closer still, disbelieving the sight before him.

  The black silhouette slid closer, its rocky outline emerging through the dark.

  “Iceberg right ahead!” blared over the phone, stripping the words from Thomas’s lips.

  Everything jigsawed into a blur. First Officer Murdoch hollered, “Hard a’starboard!” from the bridge and jerked the engine command from stop to full reverse. Hand over hand, the helmsan spun the wheel, faster and faster, until there was no more turn to give.

  The bow of the ship seemed to slice through the water seamlessly as if pulled to the mountain of ice by some unforeseen force. The men waited, statue still. But the tip of the boat didn’t turn.

  The berg loomed closer, its groves and edges materializing into a menacing snarl of ice and gloom. The Titanic continued full steam. Thomas grasped the brass rail near the door.

  They were going to hit. Devil below, they were going to hit.

  His heart raced, pounding through his ears until he was sure he could hear no other sound in the world as harshly.

  Seconds dragged slow, screeching to an impossible halt.

  The bow began to veer, ever slowly, inching left. The snaggled face of the iceberg leered over the deck. And with a heart-mangling crunch, they hit.

  A wall of ice crashed onto the forward deck, breaking into lead-like chunks on impact. The iceberg scraped along the Titanic’s side, unyielding in its assault. The ship trembled under the berg’s massive force, the floor beneath Thomas’s feet alive with a terrible buzz.

  “Hard a’port!” First Officer Murdoch yelled, and sent the helmsman cranking the wheel full-bodied in the opposite direction.

  When Thomas’s feet finally came alive and blood hammered through his veins once more, he ran out of the wheelhouse and watched in horror as the tower of ice skid along the side of the ship. He watched, heart in his throat, as the middle portion of the ship detached from the iceberg’s frosty embrace. And finally, when the back end of the Titanic slowly straightened out, Thomas took a short, jagged breath.

  What had they done?

  CHAPTER SIX

  A shudder rippled through the ship and vibrated Elizabeth’s bare feet.

  At first, she thought the trembling was coming from inside her, but when the shudder died off completely, like a switch flipping off, Elizabeth knew that wasn’t the case.

  Her knees were, in fact, still wobbly from earlier this evening. She’d been trembling since she left Thomas’s stateroom and had to admit that it’d put a touch of a smile on her face. She sat in front of the hutch in her first class stateroom, staring into the gold rimmed mirror, marveling at her glowing reflection.

  She’d never felt this way before. Never had this kind of a buzz humming through her.

  It was a bit scary to think a man could elicit this kind of reaction.

  That’s probably why she liked it as much as she did.

  A quiet knock pecked at the door, startling her. She wasn’t expecting company. She’d traveled alone and hadn’t told Thomas her stateroom number.
Pulling her wrap from her wardrobe, Elizabeth tied it around herself and quickly examined her appearance in the mirror. Both her nightgown and robe were white cotton with hints of lace—scandalous attire to be greeting company—but at least there were now two layers of fabric cloaking her body.

  “Who’s there?” she asked, pausing at the door. If it was someone from The White Star Line, they were about to get a bit of a peep show.

  “Thomas…McGuire.” His voice was raspy. Rougher than it had been before. Her heart gave a little hitch.

  She opened the door a sliver, shielding her near-naked body from passersby in the hall. “Well good evening, Mr. McGuire. How, may I ask, did you find me?”

  “I checked the first class passenger list.”

  Stated so simply, Elizabeth felt foolish that she’d asked in the first place. He was an officer, second to the Master at Arms. Of course he would have access to such privileged information.

  “I realize it’s late, but are you decent enough to come out on deck?” he asked. “There’s something I’d like to show you.”

  She eyed her nightgown and robe, then with a teasing smile, pulled the door open wide. “Is this decent enough?” she asked, feeling the chill of the hall lick up her robe.

  “Good Lord, woman.” Thomas pushed into the room and quickly shut the door behind him. Elizabeth gave a little laugh as he spun around, and awkwardly folded his arms over his chest. “There’s been an accident,” he blurted. “We’ve struck an iceberg.”

  “What?” That must’ve been the shudder she felt. “Is the captain calling for passengers on deck?”

  “No, passengers have been instructed to head back to their rooms.” He slowly paced the cramped corners of her stateroom, the air about him calm and collected. “Officers are assessing the damage as we speak. We should be on our way shortly.”

  “Thank God,” Elizabeth said, relaxing the drumming of her heart. It was a good thing the Titanic was unsinkable; they could’ve been in real trouble.