Fire & Frost (28 page)

She couldn’t get close enough.

“Caius,” she begged, and he knew what to give, dragging her over his lap to straddle his hips, his grip firm as he gently rocked up between her thighs.

Oh, dear God.
Sensation exploded below, pleasure bursting into desperate arousal. Crying out, she arched her back, grinding harder against him.

With a groan, Caius tore his mouth from hers. His lips burned fire down her throat. A delicious shiver raced through her as he pushed aside her scarf and licked the skin where her neck met her shoulder.

The spot he’d imagined tasting—and he’d imagined so much more.

So had she.

Aching with need, she whispered, “All of it, Caius. Everything you wanted.”

“Christ, Elizabeth.” It was tortured, gruff. “Not here.”

“Why?”

“You deserve better.” His heated mouth met hers again. “A soft bed—in a bedchamber that isn’t freezing.”

And she could have those later. She caught his face between her gloved hands. “You’re alive. I’m alive. We’re safe. That’s all I need—and to be with you.”

His eyes closed and his jaw clenched beneath her palms. Fighting an inner battle.

This was one she wanted him to lose.

She trailed her fingers down his throat, over his collar, down to the first buckle on his harness. “I think the best way to keep me warm is to cover my body with yours.”

The left side of his mouth quirked up in a smile, and that was the spot
Elizabeth
wanted to lick. She leaned in, softly parting her lips against the corner of his, and tasted.

Caius. A little salty—but mostly just heat.

And even hotter when he turned his head, mouth catching hers as she drew back. The battle over, the fight won. Eagerly, she returned his kiss, but this was already different, so different. Not just the joy and pleasure, but anticipation twisting them together in an urgent coil of desire. She tugged at the laces of her bodice, remembering—
I want to kiss your nipples and suck until they’re hard against my tongue
—oh, but they were already hard and tight beneath her chemise, the delicate skin around her nipples puckering when Caius dragged the linen away from her breasts, exposing her to the frigid air. He bent his head and captured her nipple between his lips.

She caught fire. Elizabeth tried to ride it out, rocking against him as pleasure seared her senses. But though she could feel the wetness between her thighs, the fire burned higher, hotter.

His fingers suddenly slid through her slick heat. Caius groaned when he touched her, and her hips jerked, pushing wildly against his hand.

Sweet God. Her body had never been so uncontrollable. She hadn’t known what she’d asked for. Her own hands had never felt like this, gentle and rough all at once. His fingers slicked over her clitoris, then returned to circle the sensitive knot of flesh when she cried out, her back bowing.

She hadn’t known a touch there could feel like this, either, though she’d sometimes rubbed the same spot until a pleasant little jolt shuddered through her. But that had been a spark. This was a raging conflagration.

“I can’t believe we’ve never done this before,” she gasped. “Oh, Caius. We should have started at the sanctuary. We’d have been
such
friends.”

With a sound that was half laugh, half agonized groan, Caius lifted his head. His frozen breath puffed across her nipple, so hot and wet from the attentions of his mouth that the chill in the air was another pleasure.

He tugged her bodice up, covering her. “We’ll make up for it.”

And he did within the next minute, tipping her back against the cushion. His features stark with need, he sat up and dragged off his coat, unbuckled his harness and let it drop to the floor. His ravenous gaze raked down her body.

“Pull your skirts up.”

His demand stole Elizabeth’s breath, but not her sense. She yanked them up to the tops of her woolen stockings, tied just above her knees.

Caius gave a satisfied nod. “You’re mostly covered, then. But throw this over us if your legs become cold.”

He tossed his coat beside her and followed it down—not settling between her thighs, as she’d expected and hoped, but gently pushing her legs apart and pressing his lips to the strip of bare skin between her skirt hem and her stockings.

Then moving higher.

Elizabeth stiffened, trembling, wondering if she should close her legs again and run away. He’d
said
he wanted to do this—but she hadn’t given it much thought and had never imagined it.

But she wouldn’t run again—and she would
never
run from him.

She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch, and she’d just realized that she could hide what he was doing by covering her legs with his coat when his mouth reached the apex of her thighs. His tongue slicked through the heat and wet.

Oh, God. Why had they never done
this
before?

The strangled cry she heard couldn’t have been a human noise, but it must have been because it was coming from her throat while she bucked against his mouth and her fingers twisted in his hair. His big hands pinned her hips in place and he licked while she sobbed his name, and licked and licked and licked and when she thought her body might snap he gave her clitoris a firm rough rub with his tongue.

And she
did
snap, a thousand times, every nerve and muscle breaking apart all at once—except for her heart, that was all in one piece, thundering as Caius rose between her legs and kissed her, long and deep. She melted into him, trembling from anticipation and her release.

He settled into the cradle of her thighs, his weight supported by his elbows. His fingers slid into her hair and she felt him against her entrance, thick and blunt.

Sudden pain made her bite back a cry. She tried to hide it, but Caius was watching her face.

“Elizabeth.” He gritted out her name between clenched teeth. “Forgive me. This is the last time I hurt you.”

But it wasn’t a quick, vanishing hurt like pulling out a splinter. Caius pushed deeper and the terrible ache moved deeper, too. How far did he have to go? Her teeth digging into her bottom lip, she curled her fingers into fists against his back and bore the thick intrusion. After an eternity he stopped, his body taut with strain and his breathing ragged. Softly, he pressed kisses to her forehead and cheeks and mouth, the rest of him motionless—as if allowing her time to become accustomed to the feel of the heated shaft buried inside her.

And she was. A little.

Then he suddenly shoved against her, drawing a surprised cry from her lips, but when he lodged even deeper the ache wasn’t so insistent. Above her, Caius froze and shuddered. His rigid sex pulsed inside her sheath.

A tortured groan ripped from his chest, rumbling against her breasts. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. Forgive me. I’ve wanted you so long.”

Was he apologizing because he’d spent? That made no sense. “That
is
what this act leads to, isn’t it?”

“But you should, too. I should have waited for you to come.”

Well, she already had—when he’d licked her. She linked her arms around his shoulders. “It’s all right. I like this, too.”

Holding him in her arms and holding him inside her. Just having him so close felt wonderful, even if it was a little painful.

Though it wasn’t so painful now.

His head bent to hers. “It won’t be long,” he said between kisses.

“For what?”

“I’ll be ready again.”

Oh.
She’d thought it was done. But there would have to be more to this, or so many women wouldn’t bother with expensive airship fares and illicit trysts.

Now she was all-too aware of the wide spread of her legs, of her bent knees and her boot heels digging into the felt cushions. Of her skirts bunched over her hips and his weight resting between her bare thighs. Of the sticky wetness where they were joined. Though he’d softened slightly, she could still feel his penis inside her, thick and heavy.

Caius licked that spot on her neck again, making her shiver. He tasted his way up over her jaw until his mouth slanted over hers, parting her lips with a possessive thrust of his tongue and a long, slow kiss. A moan rose through her chest when he suckled on the tip of her tongue, giving way to sharp, panting breaths as his hand slid into her unlaced bodice and teased her nipple to aching hardness again.

Heated arousal raced across her nerves, tugging and pulling them taut. Her sheath was tightening around him—or his shaft was stiffening. No painful ache this time, though she felt him so deep. Elizabeth moved her hips a little, testing.

Pleasure rippled through her flesh, clenching around him.

“Caius.” Gasping, she moved again. “Are you ready?”

God,
please
let him be ready.

He reared up and braced his hands beside her shoulders, determination hardening his jaw. “This time, I’ll come after you.”

“You always do,” she said breathlessly.

A laugh shook through him, then he rocked against her and there was no more laughing, just her cry and his groan and Caius pistoning his thick shaft back and forth inside her. Faster, faster. He’d worried about the cold but the flames were all but bursting through her skin, so much heat, stoked hotter with every deep thrust. Relentless, he pushed her higher, his gaze locked on her face—and she remembered that he wanted to see how much she desired him, needed him, but even in the dark he couldn’t have doubted. Not when she arched and shuddered beneath him, crying his name as the world burned around her. Not when she clung to him as he still moved inside her, pressing wild hot kisses to his neck and jaw. Not when she held him tight as he pulsed deep once more, whispering against his lips that she loved him.

And that she would
never
understand why they hadn’t done this before.

FOR TWO YEARS, CAIUS HAD WOKEN with a hollow ache in his chest and his fists closing over nothing—though only after the nights he’d been able to sleep at all. It seemed impossible that Elizabeth was here now, alive. Even though he’d held her and kissed her, a part of him feared that he would open his eyes and she’d be gone.

But instead of emptiness, his heart was full and he held Elizabeth in his arms. He hadn’t needed to cover her body with his to keep her warm; he’d only needed to tuck her back against his chest and pile his coat and the wall hangings over them. Now she slept, her lips soft and her hands folded beneath her cheek. A small bruise marred her neck, marked by his mouth. Driven by desperate need, he’d had her like this in the middle of the night, pushing her skirts up and plunging into her slick heat. He’d sucked on her skin while his fingers had stroked the slippery bud of her clitoris, and her sweet cries had echoed through the chamber until her clenching sheath triggered his own explosive release.

The memory made Caius ache to have her again, but he only softly kissed the spot on her neck before pulling her tighter against his chest.

She loved him. That seemed even more impossible, more unbelievable than waking up with Elizabeth in his arms. But he’d seen it on her face, heard it in her voice. And he’d recognized the pain in her when she’d thought he was dying—he’d felt the same pain every moment for two years.

But he was here with her. And would be, for as long as she would have him.

A glance at his pocket watch told him that the sun would be rising soon. He didn’t attempt to wake her, but simply held on, breathing in the lavender scent of her hair.

Necessity finally forced him out of bed. While she stirred under their covers, he took one of the lamps and found a small chamber that served the purpose. He returned to find her up and shivering in her chemise, her dress discarded. Her frozen breath formed a cloud in front of her lips as she dug through her satchel.

Without glancing back, she said, “It’s easier to run in trousers.”

Caius had never run in a skirt, so he didn’t know firsthand, but he imagined it was. And propriety demanded that he turn around while she dressed, but it had been years since he’d looked at a woman—starting before she’d fled. He wanted to see everything now, while he still had the chance.

Elizabeth had said that she’d lied about despising him. He didn’t think she had. Caius knew exactly what it was to hate someone because it was impossible to stop loving them. He also understood that when she’d thought he was dying, her reasons for wishing she could stop loving him didn’t matter anymore.

But he’d lied to her, too. Or rather, he hadn’t told her everything that he should have. And she might despise him for that.

He had to take the risk, though. Elizabeth’s love meant everything. But so did a little girl.

“Elizabeth.”

She pulled on a man’s shirt, her head popping through the neck opening as she turned, her cheeks flushed from sleep and cold. “Did you look outside?”

“Not yet. This is something I need to tell you—” He stopped himself.
Just tell her.
“I have a daughter.”

“Oh.” Lips softly rounded, she stared at him. Suddenly she looked down at her hands and pulled her trouser buckle loose, adjusting a strap that didn’t need to be adjusted—hiding her face, but she couldn’t conceal the tremble in her voice. “Did you marry? But I know you wouldn’t be here with me if you were a husband.”

He wouldn’t have been. He’d have helped her, yes. But he wouldn’t have taken her to bed, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

And her faith made his chest tighten. He was glad she knew that about him. That he didn’t have to defend his character. It might be easier for her to accept
why
he had a daughter if she trusted that he would be an honorable man.

“I didn’t marry. I returned to the sanctuary after you jumped. I still didn’t believe what you’d told me about your father, but I’d begun to doubt, because you’d been desperate enough to…”
A wild glance back at him. His fist closing over nothing.
The familiar agony erupted through his heart. His throat was raw when he continued, “I had to tell him you were dead.”

But she was here. Alive.