Soulbound (Darkest London 6)

“You look ill,” Adam said in her ear.

She yelped. From the front, Holly sent a worried look over her shoulder but soon set her attention back on her instrument panel.

“You scared the blazes out of me,” Eliza said to a still-smiling Adam.

“Apologies.” His big frame barely fit on the seat next to hers, and their shoulders pressed together.

“It’s all right.” Eliza managed to peek at him, not really wanting to open her eyes and remember where they were. “You love this.”

“The submarine?” He glanced about as though entranced. “It’s marvelous. Miss Evernight is a wonder.”

“Mmm.” Eliza tucked her clammy hands beneath her thighs in an effort to warm them. “I’d forgotten, you love technological advancements as much as she does.”

He gave a start of surprise, and his upper arm rubbed over her shoulder, so much taller was he. “You noticed that?” His voice was soft, and she fidgeted. Yes, she’d noticed. Adam had always appreciated modern conveniences, and during the time she’d spent chained by his side, he’d often pop into factories to watch great machines chug away.

Eliza filled the silence between them. “Holly would make an ideal companion for you.” It was the truth. Adam could wax on about cogs and pistons or whatever with Holly, while Eliza would likely fall asleep out of sheer boredom.

She felt him turn in her direction and forced herself to turn as well. His eyes were narrowed, his wide mouth tight, but when he spoke, his tone remained mild. “Aside from the fact that Will Thorne owns her heart, Holly Evernight and I would not do. We are both far too analytical and would bore each other within a week. ” Again he studied her. “Is this some sad attempt to drive me off?”

“Hardly.” Her laugh sounded false. “I’m merely saying, if you were to look past all this soul mate drivel, you might realize that there are women better suited for you.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his blunt chin where, even now, dark stubble grew. “And what of you? Perhaps a man such as young St. John might entice? He is, after all, your age and quite pretty to look at. I’m certain many young ladies fall in a swoon whenever he passes by.”

Eliza’s lips twitched at the way Adam could not quite hide his disgruntlement. “First, you insult me by assuming that appearance is the only attribute in a man that I, no, that my entire sex finds attractive. Second, Sin is my cousin.”

“He’s a second cousin, at the closest,” Adam countered, with an apparent dogged determination to annoy her. “Kings and queens have coupled with closer kin.”

She shot him a sidelong glare and found him grinning. “You’re teasing me.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Aye, sweet Eliza, I’m teasing. Besides” – he leaned in and murmured against her ear in his sinful voice – “you do not want to fuck him.” The tip of his tongue flicked her earlobe. “And I don’t want to fuck her.”

Eliza jumped, her face heating, her breath coming short. “And you presume to know who I’d like to fuck?” If he could say the word, so could she.

Adam’s nostrils flared on a sharp breath, his expression turning carnal. “No presumptions necessary. All you need do is work up the courage to ask, dove. Believe me, I shall comply.”

She wrenched her head back. Arrogant bore. She might have said so. But then the craft turned, sending her tilting and the engines groaning. Eliza’s insides pitched. Adam gave her an assessing look, then wrapped his arm about her shoulders and drew her to him. Eliza stiffened. She’d seen him nude, bathed his body, held him up, but this embraced was different. Despite her annoyance with his teasing, his hold was a comfort, his strength warm and solid, his arm secure. And she let herself sink into it, not think of anything else but the scent of his linen shirt against her nose and the delicious fragrance of his body.

All this time, she’d done an admirable job of blocking out that scent. He’d been dirty, blood soaked, and she’d been distracted. She wasn’t now. Taking another slow breath, Eliza drew more of him into her lungs. Spice, buttery rich, like Christmas cakes. His body tensed, the pectoral muscle beneath her hand lifting a bit when it tightened. She had the mad urge to dig her fingers into his solid strength. Enfolded in his arms, the noise around them was dulled, the swaying less marked. She’d almost drifted off when his hand moved. The warm weight of his palm glided up her waist, slowly, steadily.

Eliza’s eyes snapped open, but she held herself still, her heartbeat kicking into her ribs, her breath going light. Neither of them spoke. They barely moved, save his hand, which drew inexorably closer to her breast. A sweat broke over her skin. Eliza found herself moving ever so slightly forward, into his seeking touch.

He must have noticed, for he swallowed audibly. Though Eliza could not see him, she felt the shiver go down his chest and his thighs twitch. And when his palm finally slid over the swell of her breast, they both took a sharp breath. Eliza’s eyes fluttered closed. His hand engulfed her breast, warm, firm, and holding all of her attention. He gave her a little squeeze.

A huff of breath left her, and Eliza turned farther into his touch, burrowing her nose in his lumpy cravat, her fingers grasping the loose folds of his coat. A fine tremor took hold of his body, but he did not stop kneading her breast, exploring the contours of it with his fingers.

The lawn shirt, chemise, and corset she wore provided little padding against his touch, and his questing thumb soon found the nub of her nipple. He made a sound, a low grunt, and his grip around her shoulders tightened, holding her in place as the blunt tip of his thumb rubbed a torturous circle over her aching flesh.