by Lora Leigh
Oh.
Face suddenly hot, she made herself stop moving. Thom’s kiss slowed, then he eased back to look up at her.
“All right?”
“Yes.” Just embarrassed. And she couldn’t hide it. Her skin felt so warm that he could probably see her blush, even in the moonlight—and he had to feel the wetness all over his stomach.
But she didn’t want to move. It had all been so wonderful. Was still so wonderful. Even though her lack of control was completely mortifying.
Thom studied her for a long second before he nodded. “Sit up, then. Let me see you.”
She did, forcing herself to hold his gaze instead of turning away while he looked. It was so unnerving. Georgiana knew herself to be an attractive woman, but this wasn’t like being judged and found pretty or wanting. She felt exposed. And even in her chemise, she felt bare. Nothing could be hidden. Her lips felt swollen and hot. Her stiffened nipples stood at attention beneath the cotton, the moonlight exaggerating their shapes with long shadows. Her legs were opened wide across his abdomen, her skin visible from the middle of her thighs to her feet.
She didn’t know where to put her hands. To stop their trembling, she braced them against his chest.
Steel glinted in the dark. Thom’s fingers hooked beneath the straps of her chemise. Slowly, he dragged them down her arms, smooth metal gliding over skin. Cool air kissed her breasts. The pink flesh around her nipples puckered and tightened.
Oh, she couldn’t bear it. She squeezed her eyes closed.
They flew open again at the rough sound of his voice. “I’ll never be able to stop thinking of seeing you like this, Georgie.”
Just as she’d told him, only moments ago. When he’d been uncertain. When she’d been trying to persuade him that he needn’t be.
Oh, God. How she loved this man.
And though she still trembled, the need to look away had gone. More exposed than she’d ever been—yet no longer wanting to hide. She only wanted him.
She found her courage again. “Are you going to touch me, Thom?”
“I am. After this.”
He dragged her down for a sweet, hot kiss. Her bare breasts flattened against his hair-roughened chest, and it was such a perfect, wonderful sensation, skin against skin.
And steel against skin. His hands slid down her sides. Her breathing ragged, Georgiana sat up again, then bit her bottom lip to keep from whimpering and rocking when his palms cupped her breasts. Utterly still, she watched him touch her, his eyes burning and his face rapt as he looked.
Maybe not just looking. “Can you feel what you touch?”
He slowly nodded, his gaze never leaving her breasts. “Yes. Not everything. But some. Like soft and hard.”
His thumbs swept across her taut nipples. Unexpected, sharp pleasure seared like fire through sensitive flesh. Georgiana gasped and arched into his palms. “Thom. Oh, Thom.”
Expression stark with need, he slid his hands down. “The difference between cloth and skin.”
His fingertips skimmed over the chemise bunched at her hips, down the tops of her thighs, stopping at her hem. His gaze lifted to hers. Trembling, Georgiana didn’t look away from his eyes as the fingers of his right hand ventured up the delicate flesh of her inner thigh. Higher. Tension tightened her legs against his sides, pushing her away from his touch. His left hand caught her hip. Between her thighs, his fingers neared her center, slipping over skin left slick by her arousal.
“I feel heat.” His voice had deepened near to a growl. “And wet.”
Oh, sweet God. “Thom—”
A soft touch of steel. Georgiana froze, her hands braced against his chest and her gaze locked on Thom’s, but her entire being focused on the sensation of his fingers slowly stroking her most intimate flesh, slippery with need.
Except for his fingers, Thom’s body had stiffened to solid stone, his heavy muscles corded with strain. “All right, Georgie?”
Unable to speak, unable to breathe, she only nodded.
A low groan rumbled through his chest. Parting her, he delved deeper through her folds, his thumb sliding up to rub at the apex of her sex. Shock and sudden, needy pleasure jolted her hips forward. Georgiana cried out, her fingers curling against his skin.
Desperately, she rocked against his hand. “More. Again.”
Her plea was met with a tortured groan. Thom reared up, catching her lips in a searing kiss. His thumb circled her slick bud, and she gave a strangled cry into his mouth.
As if propelled by that sound, Thom turned and bore her back to the bed—lips still fused to hers, his fingers still stroking through her wet heat. Overwhelmed by need, Georgiana clung to his shoulders, widening her thighs, but he didn’t settle between them. He stretched out alongside her, instead, his erect length heavy against her hip. Oh, God. She needed him inside, where she was aching and empty. Hands diving into his hair, she tried to pull him on top of her. He didn’t move.
Frustrated, frantic for him, she whipped her head aside, breaking the kiss. “I need you inside me, Thom. Don’t leave me like this.”
“I won’t leave you.” As rough as gravel, his reply was followed by the tight circling of his thumb. Helplessly, her hips lifted against his hand, urging a stronger touch. “But I won’t risk hurting you. Let me please you like this, instead.”
His mouth opened over hers again, stopping her response. Steel warmed by her skin, his big hand delved deeper between her legs, the tip of his middle finger stroking through her folds to find her entrance. With a moan of realization, Georgiana stilled. Her body shook, anticipation and need and uncertainty building into a furious storm. Thom groaned, stroking through her wetness again. His long finger began a steady penetration.
Not the same. Not as big. But still tight and full and wonderful, sliding back and forth inside her, and all of her body moving like liquid with him.
He pushed another finger alongside the first, a deep and slow invasion. She cried his name, but nothing else inside her was coherent, just a spiraling ache and tension fed by more pleasure than she’d ever known. Her head fell back. Uncontrollable moans escaped her throat. Writhing against his hand, she found his lips again, Thom, her Thom, his mouth so hot and his need as deep as hers, his tongue thrusting with the same slow rhythm as his fingers. Kissing him endlessly, though the ache became unbearable and her body didn’t feel liquid anymore, but sharp and hard, until Thom groaned brokenly into her mouth, his slippery thumb rolling over that sensitive bud.
She splintered apart. Nothing that was Georgiana, just pieces of her. Her fingers, clenching hard in Thom’s hair. Her mouth open under his, but no longer kissing, just open and soundless and not even taking in air, because her lungs had stiffened into iron. Her spine bowed, and her toes curled, her knees bent and locked into place, as if they’d been jerked up toward the center of her, which hadn’t locked or stiffened but was clamping around Thom’s fingers in tight pulls, drawing him deeper.
Refusing to let him go.
Then it was gone, and she could breathe again, her heart pounding harder than when she’d dragged him up her steps from the beach. With his back to the portholes, Thom was all in shadow, but she found his mouth again easily—and felt his smile against hers.
Still inside her, his fingers suddenly pumped deeper. Georgiana gasped as a shudder wracked her body, her inner muscles clamping around him again.
“I felt that, too,” he said.
“Thom!” she cried, then laughed, though she had to hide her face against his shoulder.
Gently, he withdrew his hand. His lips pressed against her hair. “All right?”
“Wonderful.” Absolutely perfect.
She knew it wouldn’t have hurt if he’d entered her himself, instead of using his fingers. But this had been better than she’d ever imagined. She would eventually convince him, but for now, she could not remember ever being so satisfied, and drained, and energized all at once.
But Thom had not been satisfied, she realized.
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Georgiana lifted her head. He lay on his side next to her. With a push against his shoulder, she urged him onto his back. He went, the moonlight washing over him again—all hard muscle and steel and his bold, incredible face.
“I haven’t touched you yet,” she told him. She hadn’t done more than kissing.
His fingers stroked down her hair. “You can touch me all you like. But let me clean up first.”
“Clean up?” Her gaze swept over him. His heavy erection still bulged behind his linen drawers, though not as fiercely as it had earlier. But there was no wetness. Just on his stomach, and that was . . . not all hers.
“I have two hands, Georgie. They were both busy.”
Though her face blazed, she met his eyes again. “I imagine your arms are worth a fortune for that improvement alone.”
His deep laugh rang through the cabin. “They are.”
Grinning, she leaned over him. Her lips pressed to his. Thom caught her before she could pull away, lingering over her mouth with a sweet kiss.
He drew back, his eyes burning. “I’m going to clean up. Then I’m going to hold you all night.”
Her heart filled. “I’ll be waiting for you right here.”
SIX
Thom woke before dawn with Georgie burrowed in against him, her dark hair spread across her pillow and her leg cocked over his stomach. For the longest time, he didn’t move. Just held her, breathing in that flowery scent.
The dive today stood a good chance of killing him. But that deep water didn’t scare him near as much as knowing what would happen to her if he didn’t come up.
So he would. There just wasn’t any other option. If Thom could have, he’d have torn through the airship now, killing everyone on it who presented a threat. But Southampton wasn’t a fool. He’d be expecting that. Especially in the hours before the dive, when desperation might drive any man to attempt his escape. Thom would probably be shot the second he opened the cabin door. In the time he’d been lying awake, he’d heard the muffled voices of four mercenaries in the passageway, but no footsteps leading them away. Not a moment had passed without someone standing guard outside the stateroom, but Southampton had recently quadrupled the watch.
At his side, Georgiana stirred. Her lashes fluttered across his skin.
For the first time, his wife was waking up in his arms. Her hand slid across his chest, her fingers curving around his ribs. But though there were tasks to be done, she didn’t immediately lift her head, or make any move that would take her closer to getting out of bed. She just held on to him, as if there was nothing in the world more important to do.
And if he’d known how it would feel to have her there, his heart bursting out of his chest and his throat so full and tight that he couldn’t have spoken a word if he’d wanted to, Thom would never have been able to pass a single night away from her.
He didn’t know how he ever would again.
* * *
Though he’d gotten into a canvas diving suit by himself a hundred times, Thom didn’t protest when Georgiana insisted on helping him, checking every seam and seal in the inner and outer layers. He liked having her close. And since he’d be going up on deck in a few minutes, this would be the last time they’d speak without having Southampton or any of the mercenaries listening in.
There were a thousand things he wanted to say. But her life mattered more than all of them. “Georgie.”
She glanced up from his waist, where she’d been tugging on the belt that would anchor him to the airship’s tether cable. After Thom found Oriana, he’d hook the tether to the submersible and use the cable as a guide back to the surface—or tonight, as a guide through the dark waters. And if Thom got into trouble before he reached the bottom, they could haul him back up with it.
But not this time. “If something goes wrong—”
“It won’t.” She tried to stop him, shaking her head. “Don’t even say it.”
This had to be said. “If something goes wrong, I’ll unhook the tether and my hose. They won’t have a body to pull up. And after I put the brass on, between that and my arms I’m heavy enough that I won’t start floating. Then you’ve got to stay alive. You don’t cry. You don’t do anything to make them think we didn’t plan it. You tell them that I got into the submersible and I’m heading to Skagen for help. And that if you aren’t brought to town alive by sunset, I’m going to find Mad Machen and Lady Corsair, and we won’t stop until we hunt every single person on this airship down.”
Georgiana bent her head, hiding her face. Her breath shuddered. Finally she looked up, her eyes glistening. “And I’ll tell them you took the gold with you, and you’ll use it as a reward for any man who brings you Southampton’s head.”
“That’s good. You’ll turn what he hopes to use those coins for right around on him.”
Biting her lip, she nodded. Then said, “You should do it in truth.”
“Do what?”
“Take the submersible and gold. And I’ll use that as leverage to—”
“No.”
“But Thom—”
“No.” He couldn’t even think it. “I’ll never leave you alone again.”
She swallowed hard and looked away. After a long second, a faint smile curved her lips. “I suppose it didn’t work so well for us the last time—with the steamcoach and the shed.”
“No, it didn’t.” Leaving her had never worked well at any time. “So just get that thought out of your head.”
“It’s gone.” Georgiana sighed and tugged on his belt again, then tested the carabiner’s spring gate. “And you’ll be all right. Nothing will go wrong.”
Thom didn’t know if she was reassuring him or herself, but her tone said she wouldn’t accept any other outcome. He wouldn’t, either.
The knock at the door came then. The bastard Southampton stood in the passageway, smiling.
“Ah, very good. You’re almost ready.” He glanced deeper into the cabin. “Are you certain you wish to go up, Mrs. Thomas? It’s quite brisk this morning.”
“I’m certain. But I’m not only going up on deck. I’ll be on the platform while he’s under.”
Frowning, Thom looked back. Georgiana had put on her coat. In her gloved hands, she held Thom’s hat and scarf—neither of which he’d be using in the suit. But she’d still be cold and uncomfortable and wet.
He shook his head. “Georgie, no.”
“Yes.” Steadily, she held his gaze. “If you believe that I’ll trust your air hose and pump to any other person, then you’re absolutely mad.”
“Taken in that light, I would prefer it, as well,” Southampton said. “Accidents would not serve any of us, and no one has a more vested interest in your life and your success than your wife. I had intended for two of my crewmen to assist with the pump on the platform, Big Thom, but your wife will replace one of them.”
Thom could see the sense of it. And he would feel better knowing that it was Georgie watching over his air pump. But he didn’t like it.
By the bloody stars, he didn’t like any of this.
He felt the faint pressure of canvas against steel—Georgiana had touched his arm as she passed him. Reassuring him again, as if to say everything would be well.
Southampton stepped back from the door as she left the cabin. Four mercenaries stood in the passageway behind him, parting to let Georgiana through. “If you’re ready, then, I have men waiting to take the air hose up.”
“I’ll do it.” Thom hefted the heavy coil with one arm. The bulk made it awkward to carry, but he didn’t trust Southampton’s men not to snag it while stumbling their way up the ladder. He tucked the brass diving helmet under his other arm and started down the passageway after Georgie.
Though cold, the wind wasn’t as sharp as it had been the previous day. A few seagulls squawked around the balloon. The sea below rolled in smooth swells. Standing at the side of the airship, Thom scanned the water’s surface. No dorsal fins in sight. But megalodons rarely announced th
eir presence until it was too late.
“We did as you asked,” Southampton said beside him. “No food scraps thrown over.”
And her engines had been quiet since the previous evening. No sounds or scents that might attract the sharks. Thom nodded and moved to the gangway, where the hull of the ship opened to the cargo platform.
Georgie was already there, crouching on the deck with her blue skirt pooled around her, putting his brass guards in order. There was nothing unsure in her movements, no hesitation or confusion as she looked at each piece. And though she’d helped Thom with his equipment the night before and this morning, until this moment, he’d never thought how strange that was. She was a strong and capable woman, so it never surprised him when Georgiana proved herself knowledgeable. But maybe it should have. Her father had been a whaler, not a salvager. Thom had only taken it up because he’d had experience diving while working on the Horde’s boats, going under to make repairs or untangle nets, and because he’d tired of the smell of whale blubber and fish guts.
Thom set the air hose on the platform and sank to his heels beside her. Softly, he asked, “Where did you learn this?”
“Learn what?”
“Diving.”
“Oh.” Without looking at him, she fiddled with the buckle on his chest guard. “When you left the second time, I got it into my head that if you wouldn’t stay, then I’d go with you. And I didn’t want to be useless while on Oriana.”
So she’d learned what she could about his job. But the next time, he hadn’t even stayed long enough for her to suggest it. He’d left in the middle of the night, after leaving her whimpering in their bed.
His heart twisted. Never had it occurred to him that she might go. Her rightful place had been at home. His rightful duty was to bring something back to her.
But it was hard to care about what was rightful now. “I’d have liked that.”
“Well, I don’t know if I would have.” She gave him a wry glance. “On a boat for years on end? But perhaps a few months now and then.”