At the very least, the stars should shift in the sky, the poles reverse or maybe something as minor as tigers learning to fly. Bennett, who had never once believed himself capable of giving his heart and body utterly and without regret to one woman, truly thought any of these miracles should have transpired the minute he confessed his love to London. Perhaps a second sun should burst to life in the sky when London, incredibly, admitted her own love for him.
Or, if none of those natural phenomena were to happen, then time itself should stop, completely suspended, leaving Bennett and London to spend days, weeks, months, and years exploring each other, discovering everything about each other, bodies and minds. Nothing else but that, an enchanted bubble surrounding them.
But the world, he learned, didn’t stop because his life had been completely and wonderfully upended. He loved London, she loved him, and the damned Heirs were still out there. Those bastards’ greedy claws sought dangerous magic. They would rip down or kill anyone who stood in their way. Not only that, but while Joseph Edgeworth was still alive, London’s own life was in danger.
No rest, then. No enchanted bubble of lovemaking and revelations. Not yet.
There would be, by God. As Bennett and London gathered with Kallas and Athena on deck, Bennett swore to himself that he’d see this mission through to the end. He would ensure London’s safety, carve a secret place out of glaciers or granite mountains for himself and her. He always took his duty to the Blades seriously. Now, his motivations were multiplied a hundredfold. Find the Source. Protect London. Love her. These demands were branded onto his heart, now and forevermore.
Late afternoon and the sky was aflame with blue, the sea burnished copper. The quartet of colleagues and friends massed around the wheel. Bennett had always liked being at sail, but now this caique had become a home to him, the people on it bound together with their own kinship. The Heirs wouldn’t harm them. He refused to let that happen. The alternative—no, he wouldn’t even consider it.
“We’ve got to find the Black Temple the Colossus spoke about,” he said.
“But not even the Colossus knew where to find it,” London noted, standing beside him. She was unaware that she played with his fingers, unconsciously stroking and fondling each with her own slender fingers, and consequently, a goodly portion of Bennett’s thinking capacity settled warmly in his groin. But her touch felt too damned good to make her stop.
“If there ever was a written record of such a place,” said Athena, “it is either lost or buried beneath centuries.”
“Sailor lore holds nothing,” muttered Kallas. “And I’ve heard everything. It could take a lifetime to find the damn place.”
Bennett growled. “We don’t have a lifetime.” Even with the Bloodseeker Spell broken, the Heirs would find some way to track them. The faster the Eye of the Colossus was found and secured, the better for everyone.
London frowned in thought. “If not a sailor, who then knows the sea?”
“Someone who makes it their home,” Athena answered.
“Fish,” Bennett said, only half in jest.
Grinning with sudden understanding, Kallas whipped off his cap and slapped it on his thigh. “Yes.”
Athena raised her brow. “You cannot mean to ask the fish about the Black Temple.”
“Fish?” Kallas scoffed. “No, that’d be ridiculous—no offense, Day,” he added.
Bennett shrugged, affable. “No man has ever called me ridiculous. Son of a bitch, sometimes. Bastard, usually. But not ridiculous.”
London bumped her shoulder against his arm. “And what do women call you?”
“I can’t remember anyone before you.”
The witch hadn’t the patience to listen to Bennett and London’s affectionate banter, perhaps because she always argued with the object of her own grudging interest. “Not the fish,” she muttered. “Who, then?”
“You’re a mainlander,” Kallas said, smiling with white, straight teeth around the stem of his pipe. “But now it’s time for you to learn respect for the sea.”
The sails were lowered as the captain gathered an assemblage of things from the quarterdeck house and cargo hold. A bottle of wine. A jar of honey. Another jar, this one filled with olives.
“All gifts from the earth,” Kallas said, setting them by the rail. “They want these delicacies, having nothing like them of their own.”
“Who is ‘they’?” Athena demanded.
The captain only gave the witch an enigmatic look, making her throw up her hands in frustration. Bennett hid his smile, but London saw, her own lips twitching in response. If Kallas and Athena ever made it over the hurdle of their pride and into bed, there wouldn’t be enough water in the world to douse the resultant flames.
“Don’t think you’re the only one who knows a bit of magic,” Kallas chided. “When sailors find themselves in trouble, they have an ally. Fifty, actually,” he amended. “But they might not all show. Depends on their whims.”
Athena, determined not to give Kallas any further response, merely folded her arms over her chest, clamping her mouth shut sullenly. Bennett bit the inside of his cheek. She was a far different creature than she had been when setting off from Piraeus weeks ago. Even her immaculate coiffures were long gone, and now her hair streamed wild about her shoulders. Bennett wondered if Athena the Greater would either congratulate Bennett for the changes wrought in her daughter, or daily send an eagle to tear out his liver, another Prometheus.
While Kallas finished setting up his collection of foodstuffs, Bennett’s gaze was drawn to London, as it often did. He couldn’t help it. She captured his every thought, ensnared him without effort, and he didn’t mind in the least. Every time he saw her, that radiant happiness unfurled inside him like a standard, snapping and bright in the sunshine. This was so far beyond what he’d ever felt for any other woman, he at last understood what London meant in the difference between his old definitions of love and this one.
As Kallas made one more trip down to the cargo, London finished dousing the sails and glided toward Bennett. She had changed into one of Athena’s skirts, and the fabric molded itself to her slim legs as the wind blew over the deck. Bennett couldn’t decide if he liked her better in trousers or skirts. Each held their own appeal. She saw the admiration in his gaze, and her own heated in response. Combustible.
“Now, we are ready,” said Kallas, appearing with a handful of grape leaves. He stood at the rail, holding his bounty of land-grown treasure.
“Do we need to do anything?” London asked.
“Only to keep your respect of the sea,” the captain answered.
Everyone nodded in agreement, even Athena. Satisfied, Kallas turned to the water and began to sing.
It was a plain tune, the kind sung by sailors over countless generations as they mended nets or kept themselves company on long voyages. Simple, but not crude, only pared down to the sounds of a man’s voice over the waves. Bennett didn’t recognize the dialect, however, and could only listen to the rise and fall of Kallas’s song as it moved in undulations like the sea.
As he sang, Kallas methodically emptied the bottle of wine into the water, the dark liquid spraying over the waves. The image reminded Bennett a bit too much of London shedding her blood, and he forced his breath to calm. Next, Kallas poured golden threads of honey into the water, followed by handfuls of olives. He then tossed the grape leaves across the water, the strong breeze catching them and sending them wheeling over the waves like green birds.
Then, faint at first and then with growing strength, the song was returned. Sweet female voices answered, and Bennett could have sworn they came from underneath the water. The voices were liquid, resonant with the sounds of coral reefs and hidden palaces. His body hummed with the presence of nearby magic.
“There!” London exclaimed, pointing to the water.
Kallas cursed faintly in surprise. “I didn’t think it would work.”
Dorsal fins broke the surface, carving the cobalt water clean and silver. They skimmed alongside the caique. Bennett heard a chirp, followed by another, and another. An inhuman laughter. Dolphins. Massing in playful pods, their backs slick and gray, they danced around the boat.
Peering closer, Bennett thought at first his sight was faulty. Hands grasped the dolphins’ dorsal fins. Women’s hands.
The dolphins, circling, rose higher in the water. Waves parted around them. The pale arms of women emerged from the sea, then their heads and shoulders. Long hair, adorned with coral beads and polished shells, flowed behind them. The women’s eyes were a fathomless green, the color of deepest grottoes. None of them wore a scrap of clothing, except ropes of pearls loosely draped over their luminous bodies. The maidens sang in their liquid voices as the dolphins whistled in chorus. Bennett caught his breath to hear it.
The presence of immortal beauty stirred anyone, men especially. But Bennett did not feel his blood heat with desire to see the perfect bodies and lovely faces of the sea maidens, only the wonderment that such perfection could exist in an imperfect world.
London stared at the maidens, almost as enraptured as Bennett, joy at their presence flushing her cheeks. He forgot to mention to her that magical beings were not always monstrous, like the rakshasa demon. Now she had proof that magic had many faces, and he was glad to share it with her.
When the song faded, one of the nymphs called to Kallas in classical Greek, “My sisters and I are pleased by your offerings, sailor. You show proper reverence for us and our home.”
“Your home is mine,” Kallas answered, also in classical Greek. “My father and his father and all the men of my line owe our lives to you, Nereids. No tribute is ever enough.”
Bennett had never heard the captain speak so formally or with such eloquence. It seemed Kallas could draw upon the art when pressed. Bennett snuck a glance at Athena and saw her regarding the captain with a newfound appreciation.
All of the maidens smiled at the captain’s deferential words. “We shall grant you a boon, in kind,” another trilled. “Ask it of us.”
“Your munificence humbles me.” Kallas bowed, one hand pressed to his chest. “If I may make a request, your guidance would be a great bounty. We seek a place that cannot be found. Yet we know that, of all the beings in the sea, the daughters of Nereus, truthful, compassionate, and gentle sea-god, possess a knowledge of the waters that surpasses all others.”
This gratified the Nereids. Regally, but with a bit of preening, the first one said, “This is true. There is nothing in these waters that we do not know. What place do you seek?”
“The Black Temple.”
The jeweled eyes of the Nereids widened. They chattered to each other in an unknown tongue.
One of the maidens said, regret dampening the bell of her voice, “That is a secret we keep for ourselves.”
“But it is very important that we find it,” London said, stepping forward.
The Nereids regarded London coolly. “Which does not concern us,” one replied, haughty.
Seeking to add her persuasive voice to the discussion, Athena coaxed, “The fate of the world’s magic rests in the balance.”
This impressed the Nereids even less than London’s plea. The sea maidens grew noticeably more aloof, pursing their shell-pink lips in disapproval. What could make them so unresponsive, when moments earlier, they smiled indulgently at Kallas.
At Kallas, not London or Athena.
Bennett leaned down and whispered into London’s ear. “Sorry.”
“For what?” she asked, a small frown appearing between her brows.
He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her neck. “This.” Bennett went to stand beside Kallas. “Afternoon, ladies,” he said to the Nereids. He gave the sea maidens what Catullus Graves called Bennett’s “damp-drawers smile.” The Nereids weren’t wearing drawers, but he hoped the effect was much the same.
“You are not a sailor,” a Nereid with earrings of branched coral said, but her voice was more breathless.
“Alas, no,” Bennett answered. “But I’ve been taught well the ways of the sea by my friend, Nikos Kallas.” He clapped a brotherly hand on Kallas’s shoulder. “Truly, if my work did not take me far on to land, I’d never leave the sea’s breast.”
Almost all the Nereids blushed to hear Bennett say the word “breast,” regardless of the fact that none of them wore a stitch and their own bosoms were entirely bare.
“It would be a pity to lose you to the land,” said the first Nereid. “The sea always needs good men.”
“Surely you’ve no shortage of able-bodied seamen,” Bennett answered.
Some of the sea maidens giggled, the sound like chimes. Bennett cast a quick look over his shoulder, and saw London scowling. Athena, too, appeared irritated. He shrugged, man’s ancient sign of, “What can you do?” London made a shooing gesture with one hand, telling him to just get on with it.
“I am sorry that you cannot help us,” Bennett said, turning back to the Nereids. “As my friends have pointed out, it’s rather urgent we find the Black Temple.”
“Such a place is kept hidden from the eyes of man,” a Nereid with a diadem of shells said. “It is for the good of everyone.”
“Very true,” replied Bennett. “Most men are greedy and thoughtless children.”
“Are you?” asked the Nereid with the coral earrings.
“Never a child, madam, always a man,” he answered with a flirtatious smile. It was a role he played, a role he’d inhabited most of his life, and with pleasure, but now he wanted to smile in such fashion at London alone. He would only fulfill the promise of his smile with her. Still, the Nereids didn’t know that. He hoped London did.
Urging her dolphin to swim a little closer to the caique, the diadem-wearing sea nymph stared up at Bennett with heavy-lidded eyes. “How do we know your intentions at the Black Temple are honorable?”
“You’ve but my word. And I don’t give it lightly.”
“Is there anything you do give lightly?” asked the Nereid. “A kiss, perhaps?”
Bennett thought he heard London’s growl. A tigress. Oh, he had such plans for her later. For now, though, he had to concern himself with these rather trying nymphs. He used to like the game of seduction. Now, he was impatient, wanting to be finished so they could go about their business, so he could be alone with London.
“My kisses are given to only one woman,” Bennett said, and he was glad of it.
“A pity,” sighed the Nereid with the earrings. “What of your handsome friend? He sings well.” She looked at Kallas.
The captain flushed, then cast a glance at Athena. The witch turned away, feigning interest in the grain of the wooden deck. Kallas seemed to wait for an objection from her, but she said nothing.
“Kallas men leave women sighing in ports across the sea,” the captain said, turning back to the Nereid.
At once, the Nereids began to chatter amongst themselves, some kind of heated debate. It reached a crescendo, then the sea nymph in the diadem silenced her sisters with a wave of her hand. Her sisters looked supremely irritated.
“It is decided,” she said, addressing Bennett and Kallas. “I shall tell you how to find the Black Temple. But there is a price.”
“And that price is?” Bennett asked.
“A kiss for me, from each of you men.”
Shocked noises of outrage from both London and Athena as Bennett inwardly grimaced. Why must magical women have such a taste for mortal flesh?
The Nereid’s green aquatic eyes moved over both Kallas and Bennett, a suggestive perusal. “My sisters and I have met so few mortals that intrigue us, hardly any since Odysseus and Jason crossed these waters.”
“My heart belongs to another,” Bennett said.
The nymph dismissed this objection with a toss of her head. “I ask not for your heart. Only your kiss.” She guided her dolphin closer to the caique, so that she was a foot away, and tilted up her face with regal expectation.
Before Bennett could respond, London muttered in English, “It’s all right. Kiss the bloody sea strumpet.”
With an inward sigh, knowing he hadn’t a choice in the matter, Bennett leaned over the rail to place a quick, fraternal kiss on the Nereid’s mouth. Her lips were cool, beaded with seawater. He tried to pull back, but the nymph’s arms came up and locked behind his neck, almost tugging him overboard. Her kiss became more insistent, her tongue pushing at the seam of his lips to force them open. It felt a little like kissing an amorous octopus.
Bennett managed to disentangle himself from the Nereid’s arms and leaned back. He barely resisted the impulse to wipe his mouth on his sleeve as she pouted.
“Now, you,” the sea nymph commanded Kallas.
The captain did as he was ordered, but, with no word of protest from Athena, his participation was a hell of a lot more enthusiastic than Bennett’s. The Nereid clutched at Kallas as they kissed deeply, and a flush crept over her body while her sisters sighed with envy.
While Kallas was so occupied, he didn’t see Athena’s fierce scowl. It looked as though she was on the verge of either planting a foot in the captain’s behind or committing nymphicide. Bennett suspected it was extreme force of will, and dedication to the mission, that kept the witch from unleashing her fury.
Finally, the Nereid released Kallas. The captain moved back, completely dazed.
“Delicious,” the nymph said. “While your kiss,” she said to Bennett, “left much to be desired, they both revealed your inner truths regarding your intent for the Black Temple. I may disclose to you its location without fear.”
“Many thanks.” Bennett spoke because Kallas seemed incapable of rational thought. Kissing immortal maidens had that effect on most men.
“A day’s sail north. Three islands shall you pass, each a fortress. The fourth is what you seek. The Black Temple is beneath the Black Temple. You must bring the Oracle’s Daughter, else the secret shall burn you.”
Ah, another riddle. But it was one he and London would solve together.
From her sheltered spot at the bow, hidden by a large crate, London sat and watched the evening descend like a silken cloak. She had her knees curled up, her chin propped on her knees, her arms around her legs. Wind blew across her face with the scent of saltwater and possibility. Athena had wrapped an herbal poultice around the wound on London’s arm, so that its pain was hardly felt, the healing already commencing. There might be a faint scar, however.
Even if the symbol she had carved into her arm faded completely, she would never lose the mark upon her heart. How did one go on, knowing that her parent sought her death? She thought of Abraham and Isaac, the venerable patriarch willing to slay his son for the sake of his faith. Somehow, London’s father had convinced himself that he must sacrifice her for the betterment of England, if not merely himself and his reputation. What if Isaac leapt up from the altar to snatch the knife from his father’s hand? How would the world be different?
She was orphaned, never to see her mother again, and to her father she was dead. She could have nothing further to do with him. Or he must die. The thought made her shudder, even as she acknowledged the truth. Even though she had broken the Bloodseeker Spell, she was not free of her father, not free of the Heirs. Not until either she or her father were dead.
Which meant it had to be him. She had found love where none was expected. Her life now was far too precious to surrender without a fight.
London waited for Bennett to finish his shift at the helm, unable to sit below. Tomorrow they would reach the Black Temple. Tomorrow might see their journey end, and how it was to end, she had no idea. Any number of possibilities ran through her mind, some wonderful, some terrible. It was not a night for confined spaces. She needed the sea and the sky around her, almost as much as she needed Bennett. While she could not have one this very moment, she could have the others.
“Kallas, a word.”
London stiffened when she heard Athena’s voice on the other side of the crate.
“What is it, witch?” The captain’s voice was unusually restrained. Perhaps an aftereffect of kissing a Nereid.
For a moment, Athena was silent, and London could feel her friend’s tension in that weighted silence. London debated as to whether or not to announce her presence, but the atmosphere between Kallas and Athena thickened with intimacy. If London let them know she was nearby, it might ruin the fragile moment. So London said nothing.
Finally, Athena asked, “Do you have many memories of your childhood?”
If the question surprised the captain, he did not say so. “Mostly of my father and his boat. Laughing. He laughed a lot. Showing me how to weigh anchor. The anchor was almost as big as I was, I nearly went over the side with it.”
“I have few memories of my youth.” Athena’s voice was soft, ruminative. “I was always in such a hurry to grow up. My mother and grandmother were good to me, but I wanted to be an adult as soon as I could and join them in the world of decision-makers. They warned me, Yaya and Mama, that I should enjoy the pleasures of childhood freedom. I never listened. In that way, I was like all Galanos women. Stubborn.”
“Headstrong,” Kallas corrected gently.
Athena’s chuckle was rueful. “I do have a particular recollection. A name day celebration at some friend’s home. A boy my own age. There were sweets to eat, and I remember these two pieces of baklava, golden with honey and fragrant with walnuts and cinnamon. I stared at them for a long time, trying to decide which one I wanted. One of the pieces had more walnuts, the other, more honey. I just stared and stared, thinking, considering, unable to make up my mind.”
“Why not take them both?”
“That would have been greedy.”
“You were a child. Children are allowed to be greedy. I used to stuff myself sick on loukoumades when we’d get to port, and my father let me. A treat and a lesson.”
“Even if my mother said it would have been all right, I wouldn’t let myself.”
“So, which piece of baklava did you take?”
“Neither. I spent so much time deliberating and thinking, some girl ran up and grabbed both pieces for herself. I wound up with nothing.”
“I’ll bring you as much baklava as you want when we get back to Piraeus.”
“Many thanks, but no. I did not tell you that story because I had a craving for baklava.”
“What do you have a craving for?”
Even London, on the other side of the crate, heard the sensual promise of the captain’s softly spoken words.
“I do not give in to cravings,” Athena answered, but her voice was throaty. “I never have. I always thought they were signs the body was trying to overtake the mind, and I would not let that happen.”
“High time for you to start listening to your body.”
“And my heart.” The witch drew in a breath. “I do not want to waste an opportunity because I am thinking too much, trying to decide what is best or right.”
“Athena—”
“Will you come to my bunk tonight, Nikos? When your shift at the helm is over?” She didn’t wait for an answer, talking quickly as if to avoid hearing the captain’s response. “I shall ask London to sleep in the other cabin. She will accept. She’s grown tired of crawling back and forth between cabins, and I know it can be disruptive, so—”
Athena’s nervous prattling stopped. London wondered why, until she heard the unmistakable sounds of kissing. Leave it to the captain to let actions speak more eloquently than words.
Though determined to keep her silence, inwardly London rejoiced. The kiss between the captain and the witch had been a long time in the making, and, now that London had discovered love, she wanted to share it with everyone, especially her friends.
Some time later, Kallas murmured, “What’s the word? Ensorcelled? I think you’ve ensorcelled me, Lady Witch.”
“No more than you have netted me, Captain. I did not enjoy seeing you kiss that Nereid.”
“It didn’t look like you minded.”
“I minded.”
“Would it help if I said I was thinking of you the whole time?”
Athena chuckled, then said, softly, “Tonight, then.”
“Tonight.”
The taps of Athena’s footfalls faded as she went below. Kallas let out a slow growl, then followed the sound with a litany of exaltation to hosts of saints and gods. London speculated that she would not get much sleep that night, kept awake by the sounds of lovemaking. But it was only fair. Lord knew that she and Bennett had probably cost everyone their sleep, with all their carnal carryings-on.
Later she heard Bennett and Kallas trade places at the helm, then the strong, sure sound of Bennett’s boots on the deck coming toward her. Night had fallen, so she felt more than saw him when he stood close by. Her heart and body vibrated with barely contained energy, matching his.
Bennett easily lowered down to the deck, sliding behind her so that she sat between his legs as he cradled her in his arms. Warm, solid, and athletic, he surrounded her without entirely engulfing her. London leaned against him, her back to his chest, and she felt the strange double joys of serenity and excitement. She was safe here with him, but not stiflingly sheltered. He brushed his lips against her hair.
Neither spoke. It felt too good to sit in the prow of the boat in the darkness, the waves breaking across the bow, wind in the sails, the heat of his body blanketing her.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be with that Nereid?” London asked. “She seemed to fancy you quite a bit.”
He gave a snort. “I don’t fancy fish. Maybe for supper, but not for kissing.”
“Prefer human women, do you?”
“Just one.” He turned her head gently and demonstrated exactly what he meant.
Some moments later, when they had to pause to breathe, he asked, “What have you been doing up here?”
She worked to bring her mind into focus after the heady pleasures of Bennett’s mouth. “Enjoying the night. Thinking.”
“Alone?”
She thought of the exchange between Kallas and Athena, and, though she trusted Bennett completely, felt Athena might take umbrage if London discussed her private romantic affairs.
“Yes,” London said, hating that she had to lie to him. “All alone.”
“Did I ever mention that I’ve excellent hearing?” he asked, his voice low, a delightful rumble.
She should have known. “You heard them, too?”
“Oh, yes. And about bloody time, too.”
His soft chuckle sent tremors rippling through her. She was very aware of him pressed into her backside, even through the layers of her skirt and petticoat. Thank heavens she’d long ago abandoned a bustle. Feeling him intimately snug against her was a wicked pleasure for which she would gladly forsake fashion. In fact, there was something to be said for being absolutely naked whenever Bennett was near.
“I’m glad for them,” said London. “Glad they were willing to take the chance. I didn’t think they would ever risk themselves.”
He brushed her hair to one side, uncovering her neck. His warm mouth trailed just beneath her ear. Then he traced the curve of her neck with small, gentle bites, just hard enough to send bright currents of awareness through her, centering at the tips of her breasts and between her thighs. He soothed the bites with velvet licks of his tongue. “Not everyone’s as brave as you,” he said between ministrations.
“Not so brave,” she gasped. “Just know what I want.” Coherent thought, and the ability to talk sensibly, vanished under his touch.
His long hands slid up over her waist and ribs to cup her breasts. She arched her back, the better to feel his caresses. Yet neither of them were satisfied, not until he unfastened the buttons of her shirtwaist and pulled the garment open, baring the skin of her chest. She had taken off her corset before scaling the cliff, and beneath the shirtwaist she wore only a chemise. He stroked her through the fine cotton, teasing her breasts to hard points so that she writhed with pleasure. Then even the thin chemise was too much of a barrier, and he pulled it roughly up and out of her skirt’s waistband. At once, his hands went underneath the fabric to caress her bare skin, and she gasped aloud.
“Tell me what you want,” he growled.
“You, only you.” She pushed back into him, feeling the thickness of his firm cock rubbing against her.
When he took his hands from her breasts, she almost wept with loss, but then he was gathering up her skirt, his hands stroking up her outstretched legs. Up her calves, past her knees, the lengths of her thighs. Then higher. She sucked in a breath when his fingers found her wet and desperate for him.
“Tell me why,” he demanded, guttural. “Tell me why you want me.” He traced her, touched her, while the other hand went back to attend to her breast.
Her mind slipped further from her grasp so that she became merely a vessel for a desperate need.
“Because—” She gasped.
“Yes.”
“Because—” She reached behind awkwardly, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers. Yet she was determined, and soon had him unfastened and then, yes, he was in her hand, burning hot and thick. He hissed as she stroked him.
Then he lifted her, raising her up just above him, and moved his legs between hers. The very crown of his cock kissed her opening. She was giddy, spinning, and so desperate for him.
“Say it,” he urged. He brought her down, and they both cried out as he filled her.
“Because I love you,” she moaned.
If either of them had possessed any control before, her words broke that control. He plunged into her with fierce, sure strokes. She met each of his thrusts, frenzied, lost to everything but the feeling of his hands at her waist, his mouth on her neck, him deep inside her, stretching her, suffusing her with his heat and desire.
She struggled to keep her eyes open to see the prow cut the waves. Wind stroked her heated face as they raced into the night, and it felt, with Bennett thrusting into her, as though they were flying, carried aloft by their lovemaking. The pitch of the deck as it rode the waves pushed him even deeper within her. They were elemental, creatures of water and wind.
“I love you, London,” he groaned. One hand glided from her waist to stroke her where she was most sensitive. “No words to say…”
At once, climax seized her. She flung herself into it, into the pleasure and joy he gave her. She felt herself destroyed and reborn. A heartbeat later and his release followed hers.
They sank back together, panting, boneless, bound together in body and heart. And all around them was the sea, wine-dark and eternal.