Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

at the sight of her. God, she had him wrecked.
    He stripped off his coat and glove. Mindful of his wet boots, he carefully lay down on his side next to her. Propping himself up on his steel elbow was awkward, but it kept his right hand free to touch her. For now, he didn’t. He merely watched her instead.
    He’d never slept with a woman before. He hadn’t slept much the night before, either—he’d remained awake, savoring the feel of her against him.
    His breath stirred the curls at her nape. She lay with her face turned toward him, her profile soft in sleep, her lips parted. Her beaded necklace had twisted around, the inscribed bones nestled in the hollow between her shoulder and neck. He read the runes again, the name of each woman who had led to this one. Annika, daughter of Frida.
    Annika, who spoke an entirely different language than he did—no matter that she called it English. Her definitions of “brave” and “bold” were much different than his.
    Last night, she’d touched him without fear. Already skating on the sharp edge of need and love, he’d almost broken when her hand had found his, had all but shattered when her fingers entwined around steel as if there were no difference. As if to her, he was just a man—no more and no less.
    David didn’t know how he’d ever let her go.
    But he would have to; that much was clear. He’d known the very thing that had brought Annika to him—her search for Källa—would take her away, but for a brief time he’d hoped to eventually follow her. When his obligation to his mother was fulfilled, he could help her search.
    Now he realized that the search for Källa wouldn’t take her away; finding her sister would. Annika would return home…and he couldn’t follow her there.
    His gaze traced the fullness of her bottom lip, the hole in his chest stretching like the next year, two—his life, without her in it. Empty, except for her brief visits. When the sun set, they’d be on their way. Closer to Vik. Closer to going separate ways.
    David had never been good at feeling sorry for himself, but he was putting in an effort today.
    Her thick lashes flickered. She met his gaze for a moment. Her lips curved faintly before her eyelids drifted shut again. “Just two more minutes.”
    They weren’t going anywhere yet. “You can have more than—”
    “Shh.”
    He grinned. After a moment, the corners of her mouth tilted upward again, though she didn’t open her eyes.
    “I’m having a good dream. I don’t want it to end.”
    Neither did he. “About?”
    “You.”
    Her spreading smile told him what that dream consisted of. His body instantly stiffened, recalling the astonishing pleasure of her mouth.
    “I intend to rename you Annika the Bold.”
    Her smile faded. She looked up. “Annika the Improper?”
    She knew she had been. So she must be asking whether it bothered him. “Everyone should be as improper. And as surprising.”
    Even knowing she cared nothing of propriety, he’d never expected to feel her mouth on him. He’d never have asked it from her—and wouldn’t have imagined that she would even know to pleasure a man in that way.
    She answered his unspoken question. “I’ve heard it mentioned.”
    “By the crew?”
    “Yes. But anyone who licks someone’s penis…is not thought well of.”
    So that was why she was uncertain now. Though if it offeredsomeone even a fraction of the ecstasy she’d given him, men should be begging for it and worshipping anyone willing to. “But you did anyway, despite that risk?”
    “Some women I know like it very much. I thought a man might, too. I wanted to please you as much as I’d been, despite what you might think of me afterward.”
    “I think well of you. I couldn’t think any better of you.” And his mind was painting images of her again, her body bowed, her desperate cries as she came, the sweet clench around his fingers. He could have used his mouth, instead. He could have known her taste. God, he wanted that. “Would you like it?”
    “Yes.” But she grimaced. “Not now.”
    Still sore from the previous day. Gently, he rubbed the back of her shoulder. She groaned, closing her eyes. He froze. Was he hurting or helping? After a motionless second, she sent him a deathly glare.
    “Don’t stop.”
    With a smile, he obediently continued. “So everyone is improper in Hannasvik.”
    “No.” With another groan, she turned her face into the cradle of her arms, straightening her neck.