Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

grotesque, even to me. Not always, because I don’t think of them much unless I’m aware that someone is looking. And they’re damn useful. But I have moments.”
    “And I’ve been looking at you a lot.”
    “Yes.” And he didn’t want to disappoint her. Sometimes it was easy not to give a damn what people thought. He cared what Annika did.
    “I’ll confess, I would look. I think they’re adroit and amazing, not grotesque. But I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable. Have you ever thought of going to England? Perhaps no one would stare.”
    “I have gone. But I still have the scars. And since I’m native, as soon as I’m away from the ports people look anyway.”
    She laughed, nodded. “At me, too. I suppose there is always something to make us different. I wonder if anyone at all ever feels at home.”
    “I do. With you.”
    “But not completely comfortable.”
    “Not even with myself.” He dipped his fingers into the water, felt the heat soaking in. “You are home in your skin. I am still trying to get there.”
    “I’ll try not to make it more difficult. There are other equally nice things to stare at.” With a small splash, she glided back from the edge, stretched her arms over her head. “And I will think about how your hands make me feel, wondering what magic there is in them.”
    “I think the magic is in your breasts.”
    Her head fell back on a laugh. Then, affecting a sultry smile, she cupped them in her palms, her thumbs sweeping over her puckered brown nipples. “They are nice. But this doesn’t feel half as good as when you touch me. Do you see the soap?”
    His mind had fogged over. Several seconds passed before he realized what she’d asked. Swallowing hard, he glanced down, saw it on the floor. He scooped up the small cake and she took it from him without touching his steel fingers.
    Not repulsed. Just careful.
    And he felt wonderfully cared for. “You wouldn’t mind if I touched you?”
    “I’d love it.” Without hesitation.
    Perhaps she should hesitate, and think about it.
    “It’s not at all like my skin,” he warned her.
    “Colder, harder.” She nodded. “But it is you touching me. I don’t care how you do it.”
    And David wanted to take this risk. “Close your eyes, then. Turn around.”
    She did, smiling. He stripped off his shirt, scooted the chair as close to the tub as possible. Taking the soap from her hand, he dropped a kiss to her wet shoulder. With a sigh, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. David soaped her back, loving the ridge of her spine, the tight span of her waist. Her arms were so incredible, strong with sleek muscles. He rinsed the soap from her skin, and she sat back against the side of the tub, her eyes still closed. With agonizing hope tightening his throat, he reached around with both hands. A metal palm wasn’t good for lathering, so he only gently cupped her breast. Soft weight, smooth skin, her warmth almost indistinguishable from the heat of the water. The sensations weren’t as sharp as in his right hand, but as he flicked his steel thumb across the hardness of her nipple, it didn’t matter. She gasped in the same way, let her head fall back against his shoulder with a moan.
    His hand didn’t feel as much. She did.
    And his heart felt full to bursting.
    “All right?” His voice was hoarse.
    Hers was a breathy whisper. “Yes.”
    He couldn’t reach down any farther, not without overbalancing the chair. He wouldn’t get into the tub with her. Perhaps one day.
    She touched his fingers. “Are you all right?”
    “Yes.” Perfect. “Slip your hands down now, Annika. Between your legs. And we’ll see what we can do together.”

    What they managed to do left her limp against him, her head pillowed on his thigh as he sat up in bed, writing his journal. Though she lay quietly, David found himself distracted by the softness of her cheek and the curve of her mouth—and by the fresh drawers she’d pulled from her pack, the blue satin ribbons that gathered the hem at her knees, the bow at her waist that begged to be untied.
    God, such fripperies could wreck a man’s mind.
    She opened her eyes when he closed the journal, put it aside. “Do you think di Fiore read it?”
    “Yes. But there’s nothing in there to worry about. I’d only written up to the night in Smoke Cove. I mentioned the fighting machines, but I didn’t mention my opinion of him.”
    “I told you about my people that