Chapter 28

28

Freya eyed the narrow bunk with trepidation. Dark blue curtains hung around it, an attempt at privacy that only heightened her growing sense of claustrophobia. The fabric looked heavy, as if it might suffocate her in her sleep.

She glanced around the narrow space. Unless she stood for the rest of the trip, the bunk it was.

The utilitarian sheets crinkled as she climbed in, their crisp cleanliness giving off the homely scent of washing powder. She’d stripped off Asta’s dungarees and socks, leaving only the pink long-sleeved top and her underwear. Given recent events, she’d sworn off bras for the foreseeable future.

She sank back onto the narrow bunk, her breath stuttering as the reality of her confinement crashed over her. The metal frame of the bunk above loomed mere inches from her face, a steel sky pressing down, threatening to smother her. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to be anywhere else—a sun-drenched beach, a windswept mountain peak—anywhere but this metal coffin plunging through the ocean depths.

But it was impossible not to hear it, the quiet hum of machinery, the muffled sounds of the crew going about their duties. The submarine’s heartbeat pulsed through her body, a constant subtle vibration that wormed its way into her bones.

“Comfortable?” Abe’s deep voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

She opened her eyes.

He’d tugged back one of the privacy curtains, his muscular arm resting on the edge of her bunk. He’d rolled up his sleeves, exposing gorgeous forearms.

It should be illegal for a man to have arms like that.

“Just feeling a little anxious.” She tried to smile. “The whole not being able to open the door thing.”

“It’s not that different from traveling in an airplane.” His returning smile touched his dark eyes.

“True, just at least then you can see the sky, the clouds, the sun, and the green earth below. Down here, it’s just icy darkness and more icy darkness.”

“You sound like you need a hug.” His face dipped, and his voice lowered to an intimate rumble that caressed her skin.

Her gaze locked with his. The mere thought of his arms enveloping her, his powerful body pressing against hers in this confined space, sent her heart into an erratic dance.

His hand moved, fingertips ghosting along her arm. The fleeting contact ignited sparks beneath her skin, kindling a hunger she’d been trying to suppress. Her breath caught in her throat, every nerve ending crying out for more of that electrifying touch.

“That would be nice.” She sounded normal, despite the tremor in her core.

“Nice?” Abe’s eyebrow arched, a challenge in his tone. He glanced both ways before sliding into the bunk beside her. As he lay down behind her, the cramped space shrank further, his presence consuming every inch, even the very air she breathed.

“More than nice,” Freya whispered, as his arms encircled her. The metronome of his heart against her back eased the cramping tension in her neck. “Are you okay? Your shoulder?”

Abe shifted, drawing the curtains around them. The shush of fabric heightened the intimacy of their cocoon. “Ship’s medic put some stitches in for me and I’m rattling with painkillers.”

Good . She hated to think of him being in pain.

“Everything is going to be fine.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “We’ll be there before you know it.”

Embers of desire, ticking over since he had last touched her flared to life under the oxygen of his touch. One hand stroked down her arm, not his palm, but the exquisite tease of his fingertips. His nails dragged lightly, sending shivers of conflicting sensations through her body—relaxation warring with arousal in a delicious tension.

“You have nothing to worry about when I’m here, Freya.” His voice was velvet in her ears. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

In the bunk’s cocoon of darkness, she wanted to believe his words.

“Am I not just a job to you?” Her attempt at a light tone faltered.

His breath was warm against her nape. “You stopped being a job to me a long time ago. I think you know that, even if it’s hard for you to admit.”

She closed her eyes, letting his words sink into her. The possibility that he might share the same feelings was thrilling and terrifying.

His hand migrated from her arm to her hip. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Freya.” His voice was a faint mutter. “I can’t stop thinking about touching you, holding you, tasting you.”

He moved his hand lower, his fingers splayed wide across her thigh, igniting a firestorm of sensation that raced through her body. Her blood pressure skyrocketed, her pulse thundering in her ears. She should ask him to stop—this was dangerous territory.

This wasn’t just physical attraction.

It was more.

Uncharted waters.

“I can stop if you want me to.” His lips touched her earlobe.

He was giving her an out, a chance to retreat to safer ground. But cloaked in his warmth, surrounded by his scent, she didn’t want one.

“No.” Her voice cracked. “Don’t stop.”

His hand glided down the inside of her thigh, his fingertips skimming her bare skin.

She allowed her eyes to close, soaking up his exquisite gentleness. This wasn’t the perfunctory groping she’d endured from other men, their touch merely a means to an end. This was different—reverent, exploratory, igniting a fire that spread through her veins.

Abe had hardly touched her, yet her underwear was already damp, her breathing a staccato rhythm trying to keep pace with her heart.

God.

He shifted his hand, pressing it between both her thighs, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of her panties.

“You feel like heaven,” he breathed against her ear.

Her mind reeled. Her world was one of order. Numbers didn’t lie. They didn’t betray. Data protected you from the volatility of emotion that could tear you apart. But that safety had come at a personal cost.

Deep inside her something stirred, a force hovering just beneath the surface. The wild, untamed part of herself she’d kept locked away for so long, now clawing to break free. What would happen if she released it?

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Abe shifted as if to pull back, to give her space she didn’t want.

No.

She seized his hand, pressing it firmly against the apex of her thighs, her cheeks blazing from the forthrightness of her actions. But she no longer cared. All she wanted was for this man to not stop touching her.

“Freya.” She loved the way he said her name. His fingers skimmed the lace of her underwear, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him that matched her own gasp of pleasure.

She had always been proud of her composure, but as the hardness of his erection pressed against her, she was perilously close to losing control.

“Fuck, Freya, you feel so good.” His breath tickled her neck. She relaxed, soaking him in, surrendering to the sensations washing over her. The world, the claustrophobic confines of the submarine, all of it all faded, leaving only the two of them hidden in the darkness where nothing else mattered.

She had spent her adult life constructing elaborate defenses to keep others at bay. But now, with the taste of salt on her lips and the heat of Abe’s body enveloping her, those walls were paper-thin. She glimpsed a different path, one where safety wasn’t found in isolation, but in the vulnerability of connection.

Abe’s fingers deftly coaxed the lace of her panties aside, sliding against the slick flesh between her legs. Freya gasped, shocked by her body’s eager response. She’d never been so wet in her entire life, as if her body had been lying dormant, waiting for his touch.

His fingers moved with expert precision, drawing languid circles around the sensitive bud of her clit. Pure pleasure radiated from his touch, spreading like wildfire through her body, loosening every muscle.

Around them, the noise of the submarine continued. the indistinct murmur of male voices ensuring smooth operations, the hiss of steam, the bass thrum of engines.

But here with Abe, she was hidden away . Protected.

Abe gave a hushed groan as his fingers continued their exploration, sliding poetry against her heated skin. Each stroke, each caress, drove her higher, toward a precipice.

Nothing had ever felt so exquisite.

In the past, she’d always felt like a detached observer, her mind cataloging sensations rather than experiencing them. But this was mind-blowing. She never wanted him to stop. Pleasure licked through her body like wildfire, threatening to consume her.

Thick fingers pressed inside her, filling her.

God.

Her chest heaved with panting breaths and soft, pleading sounds she’d never made before, barely audible over the engines.

He pushed deeper, his fingers curling inside her, stretching her in a way she’d never imagined possible. She arched into him, reaching to lock her hand around his neck, desperate to hold him close. Beneath her fingertips, the tendons in his neck were rigid with tension.

A calloused finger skimmed her clit, the smooth surface of his nail coasting across the sensitive bud. Pleasure speared through her core, electric and all-consuming. She widened her legs, offering herself up to him. A small, mewling sound of pleasure escaped her lips—desperate, uninhibited. She sounded like a wild animal, and to her surprise, she loved it.

“I knew you were in there somewhere, buried under all the science.” His gruff voice was against her ear. “That I could touch you and make you feel so much. All you needed was some time.”

She couldn’t help herself. She lifted her hips, bucking to meet the play of his fingers. White-hot fire coiled low in her belly, tightening with each expert stroke. This wasn’t just want anymore—it was need, breathing life back into parts of herself she’d long believed dead.

She dug her nails into his neck, his name on her lips. “Abe.”

“Feel me Freya.” His voice was coarse with desire. “Feel how much I want you, how beautiful you are.”

The coiled heat within her unleashed, sending her careening down a hill of sensation with no hope of stopping. White-hot fire exploded outward, expanding in relentless waves of pleasure that consumed her. Her body trembled as Abe caught her chin, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss that swallowed her cries of pleasure.

Sensation ebbed, and she drifted back down to earth. Abe’s arms cradled her. He tucked his face in the crook of her neck, his fingers still buried deep inside her. The two of them momentarily joined as one.

“Abe.” His name was a soft murmur on her lips.

“Hmm.” He shifted, his fingers leaving her body and she was bereft, but then his arms wrapped around her once more, pulling her close. He breathed her in, as if trying to memorize her scent. “Mine,” he whispered, his words a conviction branded against her skin.

She knew then. Even if their paths diverged, if they proved too different for a lasting connection, it didn’t matter.

This moment had irrevocably changed her.

A part of her would always belong to Abe.