30

E lizabeth wrapped her arms around Stephen's neck as they kissed, then immediately untwined her wrists. His mostly naked arms and chest were right above her, and there was no sense wasting a golden opportunity to run her hands over all those taut, flexing muscles.

Her back arched toward him as he stroked her breasts and teased her nipples. Her blood pulsed with desire. She yearned to wrap herself around him, to feel him surging inside of her.

And yet, when he'd offered something so simple as to rub her legs without the protective covering of her skirts, she had hesitated.

Removing her gown would feel like charging into battle without a shield.

Elizabeth had sought out and enjoyed sexual escapades before. Those had just happened to be with people she had no intention of seeing again. The hurried couplings rarely involved the removal of many items of clothing, and had never transpired with anyone who had ever glimpsed her at any less than full strength.

The only part of that description that matched Stephen was the unlikelihood of seeing each other again after this mission concluded—a detail that Elizabeth was trying dashed hard to forget. She didn't want to think about future goodbyes. She wanted to lose herself in the moment here and now, while he was still with her.

If this was to be one of her only opportunities to be intimate with Stephen, she did not wish to have any barriers between them. If his ridiculous waistcoat was an affront to her senses and she longed to fling it from his otherwise bare torso every time she glimpsed it, then she could not hide beneath layers of chemise and gown.

"Take off your waistcoat," she murmured against his lips.

"Without delay." He shrugged the purple silk from his wide shoulders and tossed the garment over the side of the bed.

"Now remove…"

He lowered his hand to his waistband.

"… my dress," she finished, and held her breath.

His eyes lit up as though she'd just offered him a special delivery of all the best tinkering supplies in the world. As he eased her gown up to her waist, Stephen kissed her with hunger. He pulled them both into a sitting position so that he could untie the cords at her back and lift the gown from her body.

Unlike the waistcoat, which had been tossed ignominiously atop a pile of machinery detritus, Stephen folded her gown with care before placing it on the floor beside the bed.

"Next?" he asked huskily.

"Maybe I'm done for the night," she teased. "Maybe you can go back to your room now."

"And maybe I'll give you one guess as to what I would do with my hand and my body if I were to return to my bedchamber at this moment."

"I don't want to guess." Heat flushed her cheeks. "Show me."

His eyes widened slightly at her challenge, then he leaned back and unfastened his trousers, one button at a time. The panel of his fall tumbled forward, and his shaft rose tall, tapping against the tight muscles of his lower abdomen.

Without taking his gaze from Elizabeth, Stephen curled his fingers about his shaft and began stroking it with light tugging motions that made it grow even larger.

She wrapped her hand about his, learning the pressure, the rhythm. "May I?"

He released his grip at once.

Her fingers closed about his hot, hard flesh as she did her best to match his motions exactly.

A guttural sound escaped his throat. He reached for her, cupping the sides of her face and pressing his lips to hers, consuming her in a ferocious kiss.

"If there's more to unwrap," he gasped against her mouth, "we should do it soon."

He was right. She swallowed her fears, then released his shaft from her grasp. "My chemise, if you would, please?"

Did she sound hesitant? She never sounded hesitant. But her voice had wobbled the tiniest bit. This was the first time she hoped a passionate encounter would be the start of many more just like it. That she would meet or exceed his expectations, causing him to not only devour her now, but hunger for more.

Stephen began at her ankles, lifting her shift a fraction at a time and kissing each new inch of flesh he bared. By the time he reached her thighs, she was ready to rend the garment from her body with her bare hands or forgo its removal altogether. But the hem crept ever higher, over her hips, up over her abdomen. The kisses never ceased, continuing over every hill and crease with the same lazy savoring.

By the time his mouth reached her breasts, she'd forgotten she'd ever been self-conscious at all. She grabbed his hair and held him to her bosom as he licked and suckled and teased.

He sat up to tug her chemise over her head, dislodging her hand from his hair. This time, he forgot about folding the garment carefully. Instead, the chemise fell to the floor atop his fallen waistcoat, to be equally forgotten, as he returned his mouth to her breast.

She propped herself up and fumbled for his trousers. Already unbuttoned, they hung loose on his hips, and took no persuasion at all to slide down his muscular legs and join the other garments on the floor.

Stephen pressed hot, urgent kisses all the way up her chest, along her throat, to her mouth. "Now what?"

She widened her legs so that his hips fell between her thighs. "Now I want you inside me."

He kissed her. "With pleasure."

She arched a brow. "You're not going to ask if I'm certain? Or give the traditional sanctimonious speech about my future husband's expectations of a virginal bride?"

"And risk a beheading? When has Beth the Berserker ever not been certain about what she wants? Or at all concerned about how self-important men think women ought to behave?"

"What about what you think?"

"If I haven't been clear, I think you should have anything you want. And if what you want is my cock inside of you"—Stephen affected a pious expression—"then, as a personal favor, from one friend to another…"

She pinched his nipple. "Too much talking."

"Let me fix that." He lowered his mouth to hers and positioned himself between her legs.

She was already damp and slick and very eager. In a single thrust, he was in. She held on tight and gripped his hips with her thighs, their kisses frantic as their bodies met again and again. Soon, she was so close—but not quite there.

"I want to be on top," she breathed against his jaw.

Without hesitation, they rolled over so that he was on his back.

She bent her legs into a comfortable seated position where she could easily control the speed of their rhythm, and the depth of penetration. She was also no longer partially concealed by the blanket of his body. Now, all of her was completely on full display to him. They could both watch as their bodies merged, retreated, and merged again.

She met his eyes. "I'll give you one guess what I would have done with my hand and my body, had you left when I suggested it."

A smile lit his handsome face. "I don't want to guess. Show me."

She slid her hand to where their bodies joined and rubbed the slick, sensitive spot she knew would tilt her over the edge. Her hips rocked as her fingers circled.

His hands gripped her hips, digging into the soft flesh as his shaft surged within her. "Do you like this?"

"I'm at one hundred and ten percent and climbing," she gasped. "Don't stop."

There it was; the peak she had been searching for. One hundred and fifty, one hundred and eighty, two hundred percent and bursting into a thousand fragments of pure pleasure.

She sagged forward and he spun her onto her back, breathing hard. With a final thrust, he shuddered and jerked out of her, spending into his hand with an expression of utter abandon. He fumbled over the side of the bed to clean his hand with his crumpled waistcoat, then drew her back into his arms, her head on his chiseled chest, where she could hear the rapid pounding of his heart.

Elizabeth wrapped her arm around her brawny tinker and held on tight. This felt… right. Maybe she hadn't spent her life searching for a warrior after all. Maybe what she needed was someone just like Stephen.

One short night together was not nearly long enough.