Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

against her temple. “I lied to you.”
    Lied? She could barely think. “How?”
    “I let fear rule me.” Fingers traced down her cheek. Lips parting, she turned her face toward his caress. A large palm cupped her jaw. “Fear that I’d frighten you away. Fear that you’d push me away. I’d like to be ruled by hope instead.”
    “What hope?”
    Firm, warm pressure against her lips. Annika had barely a moment to realize— he’d kissed her —before that touch was gone. She stared up through the darkness, blinking.
    His breath shuddered. “Forgive me. I should—”
    “Do it again,” she finished for him.
    She didn’t wait, bunching her fists in his shirt and lifting onto her toes, searching for his mouth. She found his chin, overshot to his cheek. David stilled against her, then the hand cupping her jaw slid into her hair. Angling his head, he guided her lips to his. Lightly, so lightly, his mouth slightly open and a whisper of breath mingling with hers. Annika’s pulse raced. Oh, this was wonderful. So sweet, almost chaste, and yet her pulse was racing .
    Marveling at the sensation, she trailed soft kisses along the seam of his lips, gently tasting their firm width. Perfect. She could do this forever, but he lifted his head when she reached the corner of his mouth.
    His lips pressed to her brow. “It wouldn’t have been anyone,” he said, his voice rough. “It was hard because of you.”
    Oh. He made her hope now, too. “But you said—”
    “I lied.”
    “Not words. You gave no indication. You never touched me, or flirted, those little things that show interest.”
    “Neither did you.”
    “I told you I wasn’t bold.”
    “And every conversation put lie to it. You say things no else would dare.”
    “Only words. I’m not bold when I need to do .”
    “Yet I was supposed to do?” His chest rose sharply beneath her palms. She thought he might have been laughing. “I was in agony today, wishing that I could touch your hand. Then agony again when I had all of you against me.”
    Truly? That was marvelous. “Because it isn’t proper?”
    “Because I thought you didn’t want it. You said you wouldn’t bed me without love.”
    “Yes. But that is only the bed. I want to kiss and do all of the rest while falling. That’s the fun of it, don’t you think?”
    “I hope so.” He wasn’t laughing now. “You believe it takes years for love.”
    “Yes.” Torture. A sweet one. “Everyone I know has taken years—but that might be because everyone in my village has known each other all their lives. I wouldn’t mind being wrong.”
    “Even if you’re right, I’ll wait.”
    He might have to anyway, if Annika didn’t find Källa. But she wouldn’t think of that now. The pain that had been tearing at her chest eased. She smiled into the dark, a stupid silly smile full of daydreams, all so visible to him. “Are you smiling, too?”
    “Yes.” He lifted her fingers to his mouth, and she could feel it, the one he used that engaged all of his features, not the half smile, not the one weary with the world.
    His smile faded beneath her fingertips. “I don’t know what we’ll face, Annika.”
    “I know.”
    He met her halfway, his mouth covering hers, hungrier now, harder. His arm wrapped around her waist, lifted her against his chest. Her lips parted under his. Annika moaned as he deepened the kiss, tasted her. Longing twisted beneath her heart, a delicious, welcome ache. She wanted this so much. This was what she’d always wanted. Capturing his face between her hands, she kissed him with every bit of need and hope coiling within her.
    Chest heaving, he lifted his head. Slowly, he let her slide downhis body, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go yet. “I’ll do all that I can to protect you, Annika. But you will abandon me if I can’t. You will save yourself.”
    “No—”
    He stopped her protest with another kiss. Then softly, “Yes.”
    Arguing would do no good, she realized. “We need our packs.”
    They weren’t going to get them. The balloon had deflated, covering the access to the main deck like ice over a lake. In the forecastle companionway, she shoved against the taut metal fabric over her head. The envelope hadn’t completely flattened; at least a few feet of air still remained inside. Pushing with all her might, she couldn’t move it an inch.
    David had no better luck. “Can we cut through?”
    “No.” A steel-tipped harpoon launched from a whale could, but