Lucilla made a sympathetic noise. “And you’re sure she’s happy for me to have these?”
“Absolutely. And Eloa said that there is a barrel of water under her desk that you can use to wash with, although it’s a bit chilly.”
Lucilla looked at him with raised eyebrows, and he answered, “She’s the first mate, a Nephilim naval warrior. This is her cabin.”
“Oh….”
He could see the thoughts flickering across Lucy’s face. “Don’t worry. I asked her if you could use it, and she said it was fine.” He grinned. “Actually, she said, ‘Of course the queen can use my shitty hammock. Just make sure she knows where the rum is!’”
“My kind of woman,” Nim agreed, turning to go. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you, Nim, I appreciate it,” Lucilla said softly before Mathos pushed the door closed and locked it. Everyone needed to go away.
“We’re going to have to sit on the hammock to eat. Or the floor.”
“I vote hammock,” Lucy said as she picked her way across from the porthole. “I’m so tired of sitting on the ground.”
She turned and plopped herself into the hammock, only to have it swing drunkenly away, and she collapsed backward with a surprised huff. “Oh, damn. So elegant.”
Her eyes were shining, a hint of color returning to her cheeks, her hair escaping from her braid in wild tangles.
Gods. He could feel his heart thudding, as if it was starting to tear all the way out of his chest.
“I don’t know much about elegance” he admitted quietly, “but I do know that you’re the most captivating woman I’ve ever seen.”
Her face was completely serious as she replied, “And you’re the most captivating man.”
He had no idea how to answer her. Instead, he gestured toward the food. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m not hungry yet; too much has happened. Thirsty, maybe.”
He passed her a cup of water, and then took it from her when she’d finished drinking, before leaning over to tuck those curling black tendrils behind her ear.
She tilted her head, closing her eyes as he dragged his rough fingers over the creamy softness of her cheek and down her neck to the sharp ridges of her clavicle, and then, so slowly that he could feel the heat of her breath, he slanted his head and melded his mouth over hers.
He felt her soft sigh echo through him as her mouth opened and she met his kiss. Slow and soft and warm. Their tongues barely touching as they breathed each other in.
And then, in a long, sensuous slide, she pushed forward and deepened the kiss, their mouths moving against each other in a rhythmic dance of wet heat and yearning as he stood over her.
The ship tossed on the waves, creaking and groaning, alive beneath them as he lost himself in everything about her. Their kiss growing hotter and faster as they sipped and nipped at each other.
The ship gave a lurch, and he pulled back, breathing hard as his whole body thrummed with the pressure of his aching cock against his breeches.
She followed him up, sitting with her feet splayed on the wooden deck as the hammock swayed. Her dark eyes met his, and then, very slowly, she unbuttoned her ruined riding jacket. She shrugged her way out of it and then began to unbutton the frayed and dirty shirt she’d worn for so many days.
He watched, transfixed, as she pushed it off her shoulders—revealing her pale arms with their sinuously spiked red-and-black tattoos—and slowly unbound her breasts.
Gods. It was the first time he’d seen her properly. The cabin was small, cluttered, and dimly lit. But compared to a shelter made of branches huddled up against a tree, it was incredibly luxurious.
And the most precious part was her.
Dimly, at the back of his mind, he thought he should stop this. It was too much. Too intense. For both of them. His entire being was completely overwhelmed with a depth and array of feelings unlike anything he’d allowed himself to experience for years, and he couldn’t cope with any of it. He had spent his entire life making jokes to avoid dealing with emotion, and now he was like a man who couldn’t swim, suddenly thrown into the deep ocean.
And then she pulled off her boots and wiggled out of her breeches, leaning back in the hammock, completely naked, her nipples pebbling in the cold air. He was drowning, and it was all he’d ever wanted.
“Kiss me again, Matt.”
Gods. He was going to kiss her. Everywhere. “Spread your legs.”
