Steamlust by Kristina Wright

conscience twice.”
    “Mandy—”
    “I shouldn’t have come here. I—I wanted to reassure you
about the plan, n-n-not… this . I shouldn’t have come.”
    She jerked her hand free of his and managed three steps toward the door before his arm hooked her around her waist. Frederick lifted her off the floor, his grasp sure and unrelenting as she beat her fists on his arm.
    “Let me go!”
    “Not until you listen to me.”
    “No!”
    Frederick pressed her into the pilot’s chair, trapping her between the high control-laden armrests and the periscopic captain’s viewer. He filled up every bit of free space, giving no quarter as she struggled to push past him. Before his body had been fitted with metal gears and fittings, Miranda would have been hard pressed to win a fight. Now, it was impossible.
    He did nothing to stop her struggles. She kicked and punched, tears turning to outraged cries. When Miranda bashed her knuckles against the metal plate of his chest, pain bloomed, quelling her rage.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered between hiccupped sobs. Frederick slid his hands up the length of her arms and along her shoulders until he cupped her cheeks.
    The kiss was chaste, but the thrill was not lessened by that fact. Miranda didn’t remember when her eyes had closed or when she’d stopped struggling. Her world shrank to the slide of his rough lips against her soft ones. After a moment, she parted hers to lick at the seam of his mouth. Growling, Frederick plunged his fingers into her hair and pulled her closer still.
    The warmth building low in her belly spread out, making her clit press against her undergarments. Her corset constricted her breathing, as the boning rubbed against her hardened nipples. It wasn’t enough. She needed his hands on her, touching and teasing her skin until she was begging for him to fuck her. The
king’s rules be damned . They’d both given so much for this war, to save their people, for once Miranda wanted to take for herself.
    Pulling back with a jerk, she ignored his groan of protest, tearing at his pearl buttons, needing to see. “Off. Take this off now.”
    Frederick straightened out of her reach, taking on the task himself. When she began to pull at the ties of her corset, he gave his head a hard shake. “Don’t.”
    He pulled the air goggles from his forehead and tossed them to her. Instead of dropping them to the floor, Miranda slid them on. The smell of his soap and sweat clung to the leather, marking them as his. It was odd seeing him through such a narrow view, making him seem more human than he had to her in years.
    Frederick paused when he reached the end of the row. “Mandy, are you certain about this? I’m…this is not pleasant to see. There are nights when I can barely look at myself.”
    She leaned forward, the goggles sliding down her nose, and placed her hands on top of his. “Please.”
    Together they opened his shirt, revealing the smooth steel plate the doctors had shaped into a replica of his chest wall. They’d gone so far as to add a nipple, a match to its twin of flesh. Moving to the edge of her seat, she leaned in and circled the metal nub with her tongue. The cool taste of steel exploded on her tongue, sending a spike of arousal through her body. Frederick’s breathing grew labored, but he didn’t move or pull away, nothing to dissuade her exploration.
    “I would lie awake at nights wondering what they’d done to you. What you looked like now.” Her words echoed back to her from against the unrelenting steel. She shifted over so her nose brushed the seam of metal and flesh. Darting her tongue out to lick it she was surprised to note it tasted like sweat. “I wondered
how they could possibly meld flesh and steel? How you must have hurt as you healed?”
    “The pain meant nothing.” He pulled several of her hairpins free and let the weight of her hair pull the mass to her shoulders. “As long as you were safe.”
    Miranda let Frederick move her