Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

her.
    “Annika.” He groaned her name. “May I touch you?”
    She would die if he didn’t. “Hurry.”
    His head lifted as his hand slid up her side beneath her hem. He didn’t hurry. He was watching, she realized. Watching as her tunic rode up over his wrist, as he bared her to his gaze. His fingertips lightly stroked her waist, her ribs. She didn’t need to see hisexpression now, either. He touched her with reverence, as if she were the most incredible thing he’d ever beheld.
    And despite his wish, she would always remember him this way.
    “My God, Annika. You’re so beautiful.” He sounded almost drunk, as if each inch of skin he’d revealed had been a sip of wine. “Touching you is the sweetest pleasure I’ve ever known.”
    Oh, how she wanted to please him. “Then touch me everywhere.”
    He pulled the tunic over her head in a whisper of cotton. A shiver raced over her skin when his warm palm cupped her breast. Her nipples tightened, aching for his caress. A riot of desire tore through her. She wanted to slow down and she wanted to rush. Her fingers twisted in the blankets; her breath came in pants.
    His callused thumb swept over the sensitive peak. An exquisite jolt of pleasure stiffened her body, and slowly released her on a moan.
    His mouth found hers again, hovered over her lips. “All right?”
    Perfect. Her hands slid back up over his shoulders. The heavy weight between her legs kindled a deep, ravenous fire that burned through her veins.
    “Yes. But I want more.”
    He gave a strangled laugh. “I can’t stand much more. I’ll be all over you.”
    That confession excited her more than any touch. All over her. She wanted that so much. On a surge of need, she drew him down. “Then we’ll go until we can’t stand it anymore.”
    His lips opened over hers, hotter, harder. Annika met him with a thrust of her tongue that seemed to roll through him, a wave that ended with a rock of his hips into hers. His fingers plucked at her nipple, making her gasp, then his mouth was suddenly there instead, scorching, sucking. Mindless with the pleasure of it, Annika cried out. Her legs wrapped around his lean waist, her back bowing. Her hands grasped for his, to hold on, to entwine herself around him in every possible way.
    He stilled, shuddered. His cheek turned against her breast, his voice hoarse. “Not there. I can’t bear it.”
    Steel, she realized. Her fingers had intertwined with his steel ones, and he didn’t like his prosthetics touched or encumbered. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
    She felt his nod, and the ragged breath against the moist tip of her breast. His tongue flicked over her nipple, a teasing taste.
    “Tell me what pleases you most, Annika.”
    This. Everything. Oh, she didn’t know. She couldn’t guess if everything she wanted to do would please her…but she always enjoyed one thing.
    “I make myself spend with my hand. I’d like yours there, instead.”
    He didn’t move. He didn’t respond.
    Annika bit her lip. “Too bold?”
    “No.” A rough denial, followed by a hesitation. “I…Here?”
    His hips rolled. Her inner muscles clenched in response, a tight, insistent ache. Annika closed her eyes in the dark, her lips parting.
    “Yes,” she breathed.
    The heavy weight between her thighs lifted. His palm smoothed down her belly, fingers splayed. “Beneath your trousers?”
    “Yes.” But she stilled when a tremor shook his hand. Was he uncertain? “Don’t you pleasure yourself?”
    “Yes,” he said ruefully, and she could easily imagine his grin. “But never with a woman. I’ve never done any of this.”
    But…? “There were two.”
    “It didn’t work out well. I want this to.” His mouth found hers, lingered until her breathing quickened again. His hand slid lower. “Tell me what to do.”
    “You just have to rub.” And not very much. Just thinking of his touch was already bringing her toward the edge.
    Her fingers clenched on his shoulders as he backed away, lifting himself over her. He tugged the ties at her waist, unbuckled the side. His harsh breaths filled the air.
    “Off or on?”
    He wouldn’t need them off; she never did. But she didn’t just want the touch of his hand. She loved the way he looked at her. “Do you want to see me?”
    “God, yes.”
    “Off.”
    She helped him, lifting her hips and shoving them over her thighs, then lay back. Silence. Sudden trepidation tightened her skin. How did she look to him? He’d liked her up top,