Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series (36 page)

“That was unkind of me,” she murmured, bringing her mouth back to his, using her lips to apologize for all of their earlier strife.

“Very cruel,” he responded between kisses. “You should have known.” The room’s cool air teased her skin, but his warm fingers kneaded her flesh, the contrast exhilarating.

“Known what?” she asked as he pushed up her shirt. She helped him pull it over her head and drop it to the floor. Her bra soon followed, and his hands cupped her, thumbs whispering across her nipples. They hardened eagerly for him.

“There was no need to kill me. I was already yours by then.”

His heartfelt words sent a thrill through her, a surge of primal satisfaction that someone so powerful would claim to be hers. That
he
would claim it.

He kissed his way down her throat, sliding his tongue along her collarbone and nipping at tender flesh. She dropped her head back, exposing herself to him, trusting him and wanting him to have access to all of her. When his lips found a nipple, he sucked eagerly, making grunts of excitement. His attention awakened every millimeter of skin and jolted her all the way to her groin. Moisture gathered between her legs as her need built, and she couldn’t imagine waiting for the tub to fill or for a bath before they joined.

As he caressed her breasts, his tongue moving exquisitely around and atop her nipples, she ran her hands down his muscular arms and over to his waist. She pulled his vest over his head, a challenge since he didn’t have much interest in leaving her breasts. She grinned, excited that he found her so irresistible. After a brief pause, during which his vest ended up on the pile with her shirt, he came back to her breasts with an intensity that made her gasp again. His thumb stroked her through her trousers, rubbing along the seam, and for a moment, all she could do was pant and hang on, the sensations making her eyes cross. She let go long enough to tear her trousers open, not caring that she nearly pitched backward into the tub as she tried to wriggle out of them. He caught her and made short work of the remainder of her clothes, then dropped to his knees to remove her shoes. Soon his hands cupped her bare ass, and she thought to help him remove the rest of his clothes, but he remained on his knees, gazing up at her, his eyes charged.

She remembered the dark cold of the vault where she had shuddered and cried out under the expert touch of his tongue. Her body went molten at the thought of a repeat, this time with the room’s warm lighting letting her see his interest, his desire. Hoping she wasn’t being presumptuous, she shifted her legs apart. The cold air teased her moist, exposed flesh, but he lowered his face, blocking the draft as the stubble of his unshaven cheek rasped against her inner thigh. As his tongue slipped between her lips, she gasped, anticipation heating her like a bonfire.

Aware of the steaming water behind her, she grabbed the back of his head. He kneaded her cheeks as he held her, and she knew he wouldn’t let her fall, but as soon as he touched her, a long languid lick that left her breathless, she needed that handhold. Within seconds, she was squirming, panting, trying to press herself up to him. Her fingers dug into his hair, and all thoughts left her mind, leaving nothing but the agony of unquenched desire pulsing through her.

“Makk,” she groaned, not sure what more she wanted to say, just that she needed him. But he knew that.

One of his hands slid around to her belly, then moved lower, his finger hooking her folds, exposing flesh throbbing with sensitivity. He rubbed her even as his tongue delved deeper, finding her inner walls. She bucked against him as he stroked the most sensitive flesh of all. Soon, she couldn’t think, couldn’t manage anything except to squirm against him, practically climbing him in an attempt to get closer, to make him go faster, to satisfy that aching desire. Finally, his lips found her clitoris and he sucked in rhythm with her need until she cried out, overcome. She would have slid off the edge of the tub and collapsed atop him, if he hadn’t held her. Even so, she leaned her arms on his shoulders, needing the extra support.

Makkon rose slowly, his eyes still charged with electricity, with restrained need as they met hers. Though she was still breathless, his smoldering desire reminded her that she had intended to console
him
.

She pushed a hand through his hair, leaning her face on his shoulder, needing a minute to recover but wanting to promise him that she would, and that she wanted him. She kissed his throat. “You make it very hard to keep thinking of you as an enemy.”

“Good,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He turned off the water, which was only inches from the lip of the oversized tub, the steam caressing her bare back.

She was very aware of his coiled muscles beneath her arms, the heat and need radiating from his hard body. Her gaze drifted toward his crotch, toward the bulge trying to escape his trousers. She remembered holding him back in her room, rubbing him, wrapping her mouth around him, and fresh heat curled through her body.

“You should be wearing fewer clothes,” she pointed out and slid off the lip of the tub, a fur rug soft beneath her bare feet.

He reached for his belt, clearly intending to respond to her suggestion, but she caught his hands with her own.

“Let me.” She kissed him, then unfastened his belt for him.

As she lowered his trousers over his hips, his hands found something else to do, stroking up and down her sides and sliding around to massage her. She could have melted right there, remembering the magic those hands could do, but she wanted to see him, all of him. She pulled out his hard shaft and grew excited by how eagerly it strained toward her.

Wanting to take away the sting he might have felt in talking to his leaders, she gazed at him and stroked him with loving care. “You’re magnificent,” she said, then met his eyes, showing him that she meant it.

He hadn’t seemed to expect the compliment, for he stared wordlessly at her for a moment, but then he grasped either side of her face and kissed her with such intensity that her knees nearly buckled. She stroked him as their tongues darted and danced, gradually quickening her pace, aware of him throbbing against her palms. Sweat glistened on the ridges of muscle of his abdomen, and his breathing came quickly, his broad chest rising and falling. He jerked off his boots. His trousers followed, the material nearly ripping in his eagerness to tear it away.

“Tamryn,” he said hoarsely, lifting her to the edge of the tub again, maneuvering between her legs, his cock nudging her lips. He kissed her hard, a kiss she met with growing desire of her own. “I want to be in you. I need you.”

“I want that too.” She spread herself, inviting him in. “Now,” she added, the word almost a growl.

He did not hesitate. He plunged into her, as if he had been thinking of nothing else since they met. She gasped as he filled her, her fingers digging into his back, wanting to keep him close—and being afraid she would fall if she let go. She rocked into him, matching his pace, his almost frenzied desire pumping into her. Her desire built anew, fueled by the words he half panted, half whispered, and she was soon the one driving their pace, flesh molding against flesh, coming apart, then crashing together again. He reached down as he neared climax, slipping his thumb between her folds, rubbing her as he thrust in and out. That added touch took her over the edge again, and it was all she could do not to flop back into the tub as her entire body melted. He finished a moment later, groaning her name as he poured himself into her.

She slid her hands over his slick, heated body, wanting to keep him close, relishing the feel of him inside of her and against her. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her eyes, her lips, then her throat.

“Better than a towel?” she murmured.

“Better than anything.”

He nuzzled her throat, kissing the sweat and steam from her skin, and she had to agree.

Chapter 24

Hot water lapped at Makkon’s shoulders as he gazed at Tamryn sitting across from him and fought to keep the ridiculous smile off his face. His problems were as great as they had been an hour or a day ago, but for this moment, he couldn’t feel anything but contentment. All right, he could feel desire finding a toehold within him again, too, as he watched her breasts float in the water. They were perfect for his hands, the nipples pink and soft as she basked in the tub’s warmth. He smiled, thinking of what he might do to cause them to grow hard and pert again.

He forced his gaze upward, though it lingered on the pale curve of her throat, framed by strands of thick auburn hair, the tips damp from the water. Her head lay back on the rim of the tub, a blissful expression on her face. He would hold back notions of disturbing her and attend to actual bathing needs.

He grabbed shampoo from the shelf by the tub and poured some into his hand. The surface of the water rippled with his movements, and her eyes opened, more gray than green in the soft lighting. He rubbed the shampoo into his hair, pleased that she watched him through her lashes as he did so, seemingly admiring his arms and chest. He wriggled his eyebrows at her and lathered slowly, making a show.

Under the surface, her foot found his thigh, and she rubbed him with her sole. A couple of inches to the side, and she would have found something else, something not nearly as relaxed as it should have been in the warm water.

“Before, I told you I needed to think,” Tamryn said, watching him contently.

“Yes. Have you done so?”

“Hm, I was distracted mostly, but for the last few minutes, I’ve thought a little. I think that if you let me talk to my father, maybe I would have more sway acting as a mediator rather than a hostage.”

Aware of her watching him, Makkon kept from frowning, but his lips certainly wanted to turn downward. If her father had any idea what was going on down here, he wouldn’t think well of Tamryn, and he might consider this entire kidnapping some strange elopement between lovers rather than a real negotiating tactic.

He did not wish to irritate her when the night had been going so well, so Makkon chose his words carefully. “You don’t think it would be better for my people to be seen as the enemy and you to be seen as someone fighting the enemy rather than anything else?”

“Aren’t you tired of the galaxy seeing you as the enemy?”

If only she knew.

“Yes, but the tactic we chose ensured that won’t change.” He waved upward to indicate the space station.

Maybe he shouldn’t have, because the contentment drained from her face, and her expression grew guarded.

Dolt. What had he been thinking, reminding her that she had lost comrades up there, that he had been responsible for that?

He dunked his head, ostensibly to rinse the shampoo from his hair, but also to give himself a moment to think. His arm brushed her calf, and he would have liked to stroke it, to follow its sleek line higher up her leg, but he doubted she would appreciate that now.

When he rose and wiped the water from his eyes, Tamryn hadn’t moved. She was gazing toward the wall, her expression thoughtful. Or perhaps pensive.

“I’m sorry,” Makkon said softly. He seemed to say that a lot to her. Did it mean anything to her, or was it pointless babble? “Not that I fought for my people—I can’t be—but that it meant fighting against you.”

“I know.” She smiled sadly and extended an arm toward him.

Surprised she accepted his apology, he slid through the water to sit on the stone bench on her side of the tub. His knee rested against her thigh as he faced her. She looped her arm around his shoulders. The sad expression remained on her face, and he lamented it, wishing they could at least have the night without worries of the wider world, the wider system.

“Do you want your hair washed?” he asked. Perhaps some small ministrations might lighten her mood again.

“Are you offering?”

“Yes.”

“Does it need it? Do I still smell like floor cleaner?”

“Your hair never did. Just your wrist.”

She lifted her wrist to her nose.

He smiled and leaned past her, reaching for the shampoo bottle. His chest brushed her breast, and he was tempted to reach for it instead, to bend down and slide his tongue across her sweet mound. He restrained himself. She clearly wanted to discuss something greater than shampooing and sex. Though a part of him wouldn’t have minded distracting her from the more political topic, since it would only hurt them both when he had to reject her wishes. Even if he wanted to grant what she requested, he doubted he had the power to do so. He might have been one of the mission leaders on the station, but down here, he was just another citizen. A hunt leader with no animals left to hunt.

As he poured shampoo into his hand, she dunked herself and slipped off the bench. He was missing the touch of her thigh when her hands came to rest on both of
his
thighs. She came up facing him and settled onto his lap. A surge of warmth went through him at the touch of her bare bottom against his skin—and against something else that, judging from her raised eyebrows, she hadn’t been expecting to be erect again.

“Thinking of more than shampooing hair, are we?” She smiled and linked her hands behind his neck.

“I get excited by shampoo. Or more precisely by the chance to rub you.” He slathered his hands, then worked them into her hair, massaging her scalp with his fingers.

She closed her eyes, tilting her head back. “With your hands, right?”

“Maybe.”

He swallowed, having trouble concentrating on the task for some reason. Perhaps it was her soft, round cheeks resting in his lap, or the way her breasts had come out of the water, gooseflesh pebbling them and the nipples tightening. He licked his lips and told himself that the soap dripping down her neck and chest wouldn’t taste that good.

“Do you think your people
would
consider letting me negotiate on their behalf?” Tamryn asked. “Instead of tying me up and taping my mouth shut when they talk to the Fleet? If you showed me more of this compound, specifically parts where there might be any interesting remnants of the alien civilization, we could record some images. I think your leaders were right in that I’m not going to be quite the bargaining chip you were thinking, but those ruins might be, especially if they hold some clues to help Captain Porter with her translations.” His fingers had stilled as she spoke, and she pouted and leaned her head into his hand. “That feels wonderful, Makk. Don’t stop… please.”