“Well, then,” she said in confusion. “That’s good, I suppose.”
“It’s excellent.” Come to think of it, Theresa was looking for the half-sister Benedict had never met. She claimed to have found her in Hong Kong. And she thought Benedict shouldn’t get to meet her?
“I’ll go find passage.” He grinned at her. “We’ll have to leave immediately.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Grayson was used to Hong Kong in August by now. He was used to the sticky humidity that made even the finest linen shirts cling to his person. He was used to sweat-covered skin, used to fanning himself desperately in the heat of the day hoping for relief that never came. There had been a breeze earlier that morning; it had died down, and now the air was stultifying.
This afternoon though, he’d be leaving, heading north to drier and cooler climes. One last stack of papers on his desk beckoned. Once that was finished, he’d have to go make sure the Celerity had everything it needed.
He was used to thinking of Amelia from time to time, and so when he looked up from the papers strewn in front of him to see her standing in front of his door, his first thought was that this was a rather unusual daydream.
He turned back to his papers. It was only when she let out an outraged squeak that he realized it was she. Here. In the flesh.
She’d closed his door behind her, which was probably why there was no longer any breeze.
He blinked at her. “Amelia?”
“Grayson.”
He stood and stalked to her.
“I’m here for many reasons,” she explained. “The, um, training? I want to see to it in person. Also, I need to consult with an expert here about mathematics. The error-correction problem—I believe it can be solved with, um.”
He stopped an inch before her so that they were nose to nose.
“I believe,” she said, “I was also motivated by a desire to see you.”
He gathered her up in his arms, pushed her against the door, and kissed her. God, he’d missed every bit of her. She didn’t hesitate, winding her arms around him and kissing him back.
If he had known she was coming, he would have shaved that morning. He could feel his stubble brushing against her with every swipe of their lips.
“Goddamn,” he said pulling away. “It is warm in here.”
“Is it?” Little strands of her hair were plastered to her forehead. “Do you think it would be cooler if we took off some of our clothing?”
They’d been sending each other codes back and forth for weeks now. He’d been thinking about her, about being inside her, about feeling her around him in the Hong Kong heat.
“No,” he informed her. “It won’t help at all. But let me show you, lest you find that unbelievable.”
He took a handful of her skirts, hefting them up, and then grabbing more, and more, until he could see her drawers. He reached out and pulled them down.
“Grayson.” The word sounded like a plea.
“Yes?”
“There are people here.”
“Oh.” He met her eyes. “Can you not be quiet?”
She turned the most interesting color of rouge before licking her lips. “I can try.”
“Good,” he said and pressed his hand between her legs before kissing her. She was already wet. Perfectly slick for him. He kissed her a little longer. “Five hundred and seven,” he whispered into her ear. I want you most desperately.
“Then why are you waiting?”
He undid the buttons of his trousers and let himself free. He pushed her against the door. Her eyes grew wide when he lifted her, even wider still when he spread her legs around him and let her weight fall onto him.
She was obviously trying to not make noise. Not as he breached her, sinking into her tightness. Not as she wrapped her arms around him. She bit her lip, and that was no good—he wanted to do that. He pushed in hungrily, devouring her as their bodies joined.
He could feel the warmth of her channel swallowing his length, could feel the keening noise she bit back vibrating in her throat. He could feel the two of them, joining roughly, pent-up want stoked by the numbers they’d been exchanging. His imagination, run wild over the last weeks, burned with the reality of their bodies.
“There,” she whispered as he tilted his hips. “There, there, there.” She was not perfectly silent, but the sound of her biting back her cry as she pulsed around him pushed him over the edge. He pulled out and spilled heavily into his hand.
She looked at him. “Well. That definitely is not a method to cool off.”
He was sweating and hot, so hot. But he smiled at her as he went and found handkerchiefs. One was not enough; he needed one for himself, another to clean her up, and then, after that, still more to wipe the sweat from their faces. When they were finished making themselves presentable, he took her in his arms, pulling her to him despite the heat and inhaling the scent of her.
“I missed you,” he said.
“I missed you too.”
He exhaled. “Amelia. If you are ever dissatisfied with anything about our affair, you must tell me.”
“Right.” Her eyes shivered shut. “You have reminded me. There is one thing I should like to change.”
His chest squeezed. He had known it. He’d been waiting for it, waiting to hear that he’d disappointed her. Of course this couldn’t last. The demands of his schedule had always been going to break them apart.
“Go ahead,” he told her in as sure a voice as he could manage.
“There is something I want.” There was an intensity to her. “No. That I need. I have come to realize it in the past weeks. There is something I desperately desire, deep down in the bottom of my soul.”
He waited to hear his doom.
Her eyes met his. “Grayson,” she whispered, “I want you to be happy.”
It was not what he had expected at all. He stared at her in confusion. She wanted him to be happy. Out of all the things she could want. That was what she came up with?
“Amelia.” Grayson shut his eyes. “It’s not that I’m unhappy.” He shook his head. “It has nothing to do with you.”
She pressed her lips together. She looked on the verge of tears for some reason, and he couldn’t understand that. “On the contrary. Your happiness has a great deal to do with me. I feel it.” She tapped her chest. “I feel it here.”
“You shouldn’t.” He looked away. “I don’t feel it at all.”
“Don’t you?”
He did. Somewhere, he did. He knew it because if he opened the floodgates to his feelings, he would drown in them. “I don’t,” he said softly, “because I can’t.”
She exhaled. “I brought you something for this purpose.”
“For which purpose?”
She stood and went to the door, where she’d left her satchel. She rummaged through it. “I have something for you. Yes. Here you are.”
To his great surprise, she withdrew a neat stack of envelopes tied with a red ribbon.
He stared at them. The top one was adorned with nothing more than the number one; he didn’t know how many there were.
“Here,” she repeated briskly, holding them out. “You know the system. This is in case you ever need to consult me about anything while you are away.”