Chapter 43
Will’s cabin smelled of leather and ink. Papers and clothes were strewn everywhere, and drawers had fallen out of his desk and dresser. The curtains hung askew above the window, the last streaks of sunset casting a warm glow about the room.
He obviously hadn’t tidied since the Baroness’s attack, but Will could have brought Amaya to a broom closet and she wouldn’t have cared.
Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, her legs squeezing his hips as he brought her into his room.
He gripped the backs of her thighs, his mouth hardly leaving her skin.
But he still wasn’t close enough.
“Will.” Amaya clutched the collar of his shirt and dragged him down to her as soon as her feet found the floor.
Will captured her lips with unrestrained passion, the intensity of his kiss forcing her back until she hit the closed door and rattled the hinges. The emerging pattern was oddly liberating after spending her entire life being treated like a porcelain doll everyone was afraid to touch.
Will wasn’t afraid to touch her. Not anymore.
For all his ferocity, his lips were warm and luxurious . . . and insistent. He was domineering as he took both of her wrists and pinned them above her head. The red sleeves of his coat tinted her vision with heat, melting her into the door.
“Perfect,” he growled against the shell of her ear, and he sounded so drunk on lust that Amaya’s head spun. He planted a kiss behind her ear. “Exquisite.” Another on her collarbone. “So fucking reckless.” Her lips. “Mine.”
Shudders raced through her body, collecting and pulsing in her core.
“Yours,” Amaya confirmed when she could breathe again, but her voice came out as little more than an exhale.
Once she was delirious with kisses, Amaya shifted her hands and Will released her without protest, letting her shove his coat off his shoulders.
The crimson brocade landed in an unceremonious heap, quickly followed by his white linen shirt to reveal his chest, tanned and impeccably toned from years of combat.
Amaya paused to catch her breath, dizzy as she admired his carved abdomen, the deep v-cut indentations above his hips, and the sculpted arms simultaneously capable of holding her with the utmost tenderness and tearing apart those who stood in his way.
The alluring enigma that was William Lexington was impossible to resist, and Amaya didn’t know why she’d ever bothered trying.
Silvery scars of various lengths crisscrossed his body, a testament to the life that had chosen him.
His left shoulder bore evidence of burns not unlike the ones afflicting Corsair.
Black veins of Aetheric Decay webbed the inside of his right arm from his wrist to the crook of his elbow in a chaotic pattern that looked more painful than pretty.
She’d seen the source of decay the day after they’d met—a long strip of metal implanted in his forearm. She hadn’t known what it was then, but she did now.
Hellsgate.
He caught her staring at it and glanced down, a flash of insecurity distorting his face.
“I know. It’s repulsive,” he said.
“No,” Amaya said quickly, reaching for his hand. She brought his knuckles to her lips, eyes locked with his. “It’s not.” She traced her finger down his forearm, hyperaware of any movement he made that might indicate he was in pain. “Does it hurt you?”
“It hurt to implant it. But no. Not anymore.”
Amaya brushed a kiss on the inside of his wrist, and then bent to press a second one right below the strip of metal that held Hellsgate. He slid his fingers into her curls when she did, a hitch in his breath making Amaya smile against his skin.
She had one of the most powerful men in the world in the palm of her hand and was already addicted to the feeling.
Rising, she slid her fingers into his belt loops and tugged him closer.
“Don’t you ever call yourself repulsive again,” she said.
Something sparked in his eyes at her words. He cupped her face as he leaned down to kiss her again, more tenderly than before.
“Tell me to stop,” he hummed against her lips.
“No.”
He grumbled, and the sweetness didn’t last long before he began tugging at the back of her corset, his fingers slipping underneath the ties. Amaya smiled between kisses, sensing his frustration when it wouldn’t budge.
“Damn this thing,” Will grunted, fumbling with the tight laces.
“I thought you didn’t have clumsy fingers,” Amaya teased. “Don’t tell me this is your first time unlacing a corset.”
The low, irritated rumble in his chest confirmed it was, and Amaya giggled—until the red-tinted black steel of Hellsgate flashed in her peripheral vision. Her eyes widened, flying to the sword.
“What are you doing?”
“Destroying my enemies. Turn around.”
“You don’t have a regular knife?”
“Turn around. Hands on the door.”
Something about the commanding tone of his voice was impossible to defy, and Amaya found her body obeying without a conscious thought.
“Maker have mercy,” she said, exhaling. Her hands found the wood as she turned around. Will swept her hair over one shoulder and leaned in, pressing hungry kisses up her neck to her ear.
“It’s nice when you listen,” he murmured as he dragged his finger down the laces, plucking one cross-lacing at a time and shooting tingles down her spine.
“Don’t get used to it.” Amaya’s entire body tensed.
“Hm. Be good and hold still.”
The raspiness of his voice made her shiver, her skin prickling with goosebumps.
Hellsgate didn’t even graze her. Will’s mastery over the blade was absolute, but the laces snapped one by one as he effortlessly sliced through them. The offending corset fell away easily after that, and Amaya only realized how constricted she’d been as the pressure released.
“See? Not so bad if you behave,” Will said.
Hellsgate disappeared as he pressed his lips to her shoulder again, tugging her blouse from her skirt waistband and slipping his hands underneath.
He cupped her breasts and teased her with decidedly not clumsy fingers, earning a gasp.
“I think you like it when I tell you what to do.”
Amaya didn’t deny it. Normally, she would. But that was when she was clawing for agency, fighting to be seen and heard. She didn’t have to do that with Will, when it was just the two of them, when she felt safe, when she wasn’t trying to perform, when she’d already decided to give him everything.
Letting him guide was a relief. It felt good to let her control slip, knowing he’d catch her and all she had to do was enjoy him.
“You’re lucky I don’t care about that corset,” she said, unable to think about anything except his hands roving across her skin.
“I’ll buy you another one. Hell, Amaya. I’ll give you the stars if you want them.”
Will spun her back around to kiss down the column of her throat, to her chest, to her stomach, tugging down her loose-fitting blouse and exposing her top half. The cool air kissed her bare skin as he knelt, on his knees before her like she was a goddess.
“Will—”
“Shh. I’m getting there. Relax.”
Relax? Amaya shuddered, blood pounding in her ears as he continued down her body, his warm, calloused hands and soft lips caressing each of her curves. She wove her fingers through the spun gold of his hair, tugging, tilting her eyes to the ceiling so she didn’t completely unravel.
She stepped out of her skirt, then her blouse, then Will peeled her black tights down her legs, helping her out of her boots until only one small garment remained on her body.
He rose slowly, pressing his lips to her inner thighs—lingering there.
Amaya let out a whimper as he fingered the white lace, making her squirm against the door.
If he hadn’t been already, he was now entirely aware of how badly she wanted him.
Will slid his hands over her hips and up her stomach as he stood, his eyes dark and hungry.
“You are extraordinary,” he whispered, taking her in. “Beautiful.”
Amaya already felt starved of his lips, and he must have felt the same, because they were upon each other again within seconds.
The intoxicating sensation of his bare skin upon hers surpassed her wildest imaginings as the aching warmth spread from her center, reaching every nerve in her body.
She wanted to savor him forever, but at the same time, she wanted more—now.
Will maintained the kiss as he gently, but firmly, guided her to the unmade bed.
He laid her down and swiped some stray ledgers aside, letting them flutter to the floor before kicking off his boots and covering her with his weight.
The sheets were rumpled, the creases pressing into Amaya’s skin in odd places, but they were soft and inviting all the same.
He nuzzled into her hair, his lips latching onto her neck and sucking. Amaya’s breath caught at the new sensation; no one had ever dared to leave a mark on the Lord Mayor’s daughter. But Will was an entirely different species from the men of Sorrento, unafraid to mark his territory.
Amaya inhaled his warm scent, spiced honey mixed with sunshine, and tangled her fingers in his hair to keep him close.
“You know I wanted you from the moment I saw you?” Will murmured against her skin, his voice husky and thick with desire.
Amaya bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide as he pulled up. “Then what the hell took you so long?”
His eyes softened, a hint of doubt in the lines between his brows. “I didn’t think you’d ever want—”
“Will.” Amaya ran her hands up his arms and across his sculpted shoulders until she reached his face.
With her thumbs, she smoothed away the worried lines on his forehead.
“I want you.” She kissed him, every syllable resonating in her chest. “And I want everything that comes with you. The sky, the ship, the crew . . . all of it.”
Speaking the words aloud made her heart sing. She was ready to rewrite the stars, rearrange the heavens, and reshape the clouds until they coalesced into a world where this wasn’t impossible. This was where she was supposed to be. Here, on this ship, in this bed, with this man.
Amaya found her definition of home shifting before her eyes.
The few layers of fabric separating them began to feel rough and restrictive, and soon nothing separated them at all.
Will’s strong hands explored her body with purpose, finding every place that made her tense and sigh.
He groaned out her name when she returned the favor, the sound unfairly euphoric.
Amaya wanted to draw it out again and again, and he seemed consumed with the same goal.
Amaya’s sky split apart when they finally came together.
They found a steady, yet urgent rhythm with one another, building to a culmination of passion that was blinding and utterly rapturous.
Amaya saw stars as waves of pleasure and relief washed over her, defying every expectation of what it was like to become one with the man her heart had bound itself to.
The last remnants of the sunset glow faded, replaced by moonlight as Amaya floated down from her high.
Once Will’s breathing had steadied, he dropped to her side and gathered her into his arms, pulling the blankets over them.
She sighed in dazed satisfaction, tangling her legs with his and resting in his embrace.
She rested her head against his chest where she could hear his heartbeat.
Will traced a lazy finger up and down her arm, the repetitive motion soothing. Amaya snuggled closer, overflowing with affection and . . . something else. Something too new and raw to name just yet.
“You know . . .” Will said after a long while.
“I used to tell myself nothing would compare to the open sky—its beauty, the adventures and possibilities it promised. But here you are, and . . .” Will swept a lock of hair out of her face, looking down at her like she was a treasure more precious than the Skystone itself.
A small, bittersweet smile pulled at his lips. But he turned deadly serious when he said, “I’d watch the sky burn for you. And everything in it.”