Page 94 of The Unknown Birds

“She’ll be scandalized.”

“Not as scandalized as the Old Man when I ask for a needle and thread to mend them.”

Ash giggled, opening the first button at the collar of her burgundy and floral dress, and Rook reached out, staying her hands, pulling them to his lips. He kissed first the right and then the left before releasing them and returning to finish the buttons himself, all the way to her navel.

The red identity disc she’d worn around her neck for two decades like a talisman swung out at him and he paused, staring at the name inscribed there.

When he realized it was his name, his identity disc, torn from his neck that fateful morning, kept close to her heart ever since, he leaned forward again, capturing her lips even more fervently than before, cradling her close, like he would never let her go. She never wanted him to. He loved her—had loved her, all this time—for herself, and her alone.

Rook tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and then cupped her cheek. She leaned into the tender touch, savoring it. Savoring him. He ran one hand up over her satin brassiere, making her gasp at the caress she’d only dreamed of and longed for, while he worked his way down her remaining buttons.

She could feel him, hard and growing harder beneath her as they kissed, but when she reached for his trousers he stopped her, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment before he could speak. “I don’t want you to see the leg,” he whispered, looking up at her with so much vulnerability in his grey eyes. “The surgeons did right by me, but it can be a bit of a shock.”

Ash understood. She’d encountered her share of field amputations when they arrived back in Plymouth. “Rook,” she said softly, tracing his fine lips with her fingers. “It’s only me. But if you prefer to leave your trousers on, I’m certain we could manage.”

“I’ve killed the moment now,” he said, turning his face away, his ears as dark red as the flush spilling across his cheeks and down his throat.

“You’ve killed nothing,” she told him fiercely, sweeping her gaze down his chest to the bulge still straining to be free. “I have waited half a lifetime for you. I’ll wait another twenty years so long as you’re here by my side.”

His eyes blazed, the muscle in his jaw jumping as Rook clasped her left hand in his right while the other cupped her face, his long, musical fingers stroking along her cheek and down her neck. He kissed her once more, tender and slow like he just might make good on her offer and kiss her every second for the rest of her life.

The soft, cool satin of her brassiere grew warm under his touch as he traced down the shoulder strap and stroked along the cup that held her breast, a look of curious fascination spreading across his face.

“They’re not much, I’m afraid,” she admitted self-consciously. “I used to bind them down with bandages, thankful they weren’t bigger.”

“They’re perfect,” he breathed, putting his mouth to one and then the other, licking over the satin, leaving the material damp enough to tease her tender, aching nipples as her breath juddered.

Emboldened, she ran her hands down his chest, softly tugging at the line of dark curls that formed a pathway to his waistband, allowing her palm to graze his bulging trousers, and he closed his eyes, exhaling a sharp huff.

“What do you like?” she whispered close to his ear, before tracing the delicate shell with the tip of her tongue.

His answer came as a ragged gasp, and Ash leaned over him to explore the other earlobe. He took another breath, not the sharp inhale of passion, but of speech, cut short before it could begin.

“You’ve only to ask,” she told him.

“Just thinking through logistics. It attaches above the knee. To remove it, I’m afraid my trousers would have to come down.”

“What a pity,” she teased, grinding against him as she kissed her way down his chest. Then more seriously she added, “Would it help if I stepped outside?”

He shook his head. “You could assist me with this last button so I don’t lose another.”

She grinned, doing as he asked, popping the button on his trousers free. Then she took her hands away and sat back on her heels, waiting to follow his lead.

Rook sat up to finish the rest himself with practiced ease, and his whole body seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when he unbuckled the leather straps and removed the prosthetic, for all he claimed it didn’t bother him.

He glanced over his shoulder, gauging her reaction, before propping the leg, still inside his trousers, against the wall, within arm’s reach.

Ash took the opportunity to shed the rest of her own garments, except for Rook’s identity disc, which had marked her as his since the day the army sent her home from France. Then she stood before him, each of them more naked than they’d ever been with no more secrets or masks between them, just the magnetic pull that kept them forever circling like a planet and a star.

She trembled nervously despite the warm room and clenched her fists to try and hide it.

“Don’t be afraid, Little Bird,” he whispered, settling back against the headboard, and for a moment she drank him in, his torso a little softer than it was when she’d seen him shirtless in the war, still just as tantalizing—more so, for the years meant he’d survived it, and now he was all hers.

“I, umm…” Hand trembling with sudden shyness, she reached into her suitcase and withdrew the old prophylactic she’d brought from home.

Rook’s eyes grew wide, surprised but not shocked. They still twinkled with delight. “Is that… from the quartermaster?”

She nodded, feeling forward but not foolish for her planning.