Solar Storm (14 page)

With warm amber eyes set above sharp cheekbones, his face was bisected by a strong, straight nose over sensually full lips. A severe buzz-cut merely highlighted his attractiveness, concentrating all attention on his face. He should be strutting his stuff on a catwalk, not getting down and dirty playing soldier.
 

Her eyes travelled downward, and the rest of him more than fulfilled the promise of his face. He was toned…hell no, he was
ripped
. Even his muscles had muscles. Tall and broad shouldered, he was built like a quarterback, and his life had obviously been one of violence. Old scars dotted his skin like a mad artist had gone to town with his body as the canvas.
 

“I know you’re not. You’re strong.”
 

His words drew her attention back to his face. His eyes were blue again. He smiled, which almost robbed her of reason, but she held onto the thought for grim death. No one’s eyes changed that fast.
What the hell have they done to him?
 

“Your eyes… What the hell are you?”

The smile turned cold, his features freezing around it and locking it into place. In hindsight, perhaps a demand for information wasn’t the best way to deal with this, especially after what had gone on in the room behind them. Walker was slumped, dead, but somehow she knew Jack wouldn’t hurt her.
 

He moved toward her. Only three steps, but with those blue eyes intent upon her, it seemed more like a stalk. With every movement he made, her instincts screamed “predator”.
 

She held her ground, tilting her head to look at him as he neared. He stopped inches away from her, so close the heat of his body beat at her skin even through her clothing and his gown.

“We don’t have time for this, Lilly.”
 

He lifted a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. As though he couldn’t stop touching her, he stroked a gentle finger down her cheekbone to the corner of her lips. It took everything she had not to turn her head and press into the small caress, but she held true to her purpose, her eyes on his.

“Make time.”

His lips quirked, and everything female in her went into meltdown. He had to know the effect he had on women, so she ignored the reaction and met him look for look.
 

“Stubborn little minx.”

She choked. “What did you call me?”

“Minx,” he repeated, lowering his head and brushing his lips over hers to silence her. As a tactic, it worked. The first touch of his lips, warm and firm over hers, was like setting light to kindling. Heat flared and caught, racing through her body like wildfire.
 

She moaned, unable to stop her lips parting automatically in invitation. No matter what her mind was screaming about the dead guy in the next room and the possibility the hunk stood in front of her wasn’t just human, her body knew what it wanted, and what it intended to get.

He didn’t pass up the invitation. Groaning, he moved closer and deepened the kiss. With a ruthless sweep of his tongue, he parted her lips farther and slid into the softer recesses of her mouth. She shivered, hot and cold chills chasing over her skin as he kissed her in the darkness of the corridor.
 

She’d been kissed before and, as she’d thought anyway, she’d been kissed well. This was something else entirely. He kissed her as if there was nothing else in the world. As if she was his sun, his moon and stars…his everything. He didn’t kiss her, he made love to her with his lips and tongue.

Abruptly he broke away, tearing his mouth from hers. With a groan of frustration, he leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers.

“I don’t want to let you go.” The tone in his voice pulled on her heartstrings. “When they brought me in, there was just pain and blood…so much blood. Darkness was coming for me, and I was ready. But an angel called my name… I had to come back to see if she was as beautiful as she sounded.”

His words reached deep inside her. She already thought he was gorgeous, but to have him spouting words that…romantic wasn’t the word. The claim he’d come back just to see her, that hit her deep down and resonated in her soul.
 

“And…?”
 

She almost dared not ask the question, and when she did, her voice emerged breathy and hopeful. Like a teen finally meeting and speaking to her film idol in the flesh.

“Oh yes, she was worth it.”

They’re in it to win it—or die trying.

Ricochet

© 2011 Sandra Sookoo

Willa Rayes, only daughter of a legendary Lingorian fighter pilot, can fly any ship in the galaxy. Better than her brothers, in fact. But does that get her any respect? Not as long as she has breasts. Winning the Nebulon Trike will not only force her family to notice her, it’ll be her declaration of independence from men in general.

Then she meets her race partner, Stratton Sinnet. Arrogant and chauvinistic, he ignites her libido like no man ever before. And threatens to send her well-planned strategy straight to hell.

A bounty hunter by trade, Sin enters the Trike for one reason: money. Somewhere among the racers his quarry is hiding, but he’s not worried. He always gets his man, and winning the race will be a nice bonus. It sure would be a hell of a lot easier, though, if he wasn’t saddled with a know-it-all navigator who’s getting on his last nerve—and under his skin.

As the checkpoints go by and the danger escalates, the fight for control, the lead—and satisfaction—approaches supernova heat. Burning away their resistance, and the tough shells that protect their one vulnerability…their hearts.

Warning: This story contains a hot, bald bounty hunter whose sex appeal rivals his cockiness; a smart-mouthed pilot who refuses to let a mere male beat her in anything; and love scenes that’ll make you'll think a star exploded. Dramamine recommended to counteract the effects of fancy flying.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Ricochet:

Willa cringed when their craft, the
Anomaly
, shuddered before resuming its smooth flow through the star-dotted blackness. The idiot was going to ruin their chances of making good time if he insisted on such a careless attitude. “Is there a reason you have your feet propped on the control panel?” She stared pointedly at his dusty boots. They rested perilously close to the button that would dump reactor-core waste all over the course. “Obviously, you have no respect for your ship.”

“As long as it gets me to where I need to go, I don’t care. And as for your question, there’s no need to be alert at this point.”

“Ah, such a wonderful work ethic.” She gritted her teeth. Of all the men to be stuck with, the powers-that-be gave her him. “When would you like to start the GCCs? I haven’t programmed them in yet, since I don’t know—”

“Willa, just stop, all right?” Stratton squirmed into an upright position, slammed his feet onto the floor and swiveled his chair around to face her. “We don’t need course corrections at the moment. We’ve been in space for an hour. Relax.” His glare sent a tremor down her spine. “If you feel the need to make asinine conversation to fill the silence, fine, but don’t expect an answer from me.”

She attempted to avert her gaze from his spread legs and crotch, but her willpower had dissolved. In the mandatory slick gear, there was no doubt that Stratton Sinnet had the necessary equipment to please the ladies. The black suit hugged his body so tightly, she clearly saw the outline of his abdominal muscles, as well as the bulge between his legs. Insistent heat rushed to her pussy, made doubly uncomfortable by the uniform.

Needing a distraction, she cleared her throat and wrenched her gaze to his. “Are you always an ass?”

“A good portion of the time. That’s what makes me well known.”

“No, that’s what makes you an ass.”

“It’s working for me.” A knowing smirk crossed his face. “See something you like?” He rested a hand on his upper thigh with his fingers dangling in such a way she couldn’t help but glance at his package again.

“No, actually.” Arrogant bastard. There was no way she’d let on how yummy she thought he looked. “You’re not as impressive as you think. I’ve seen better.”

His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned. “Do you always have to be so aloof?”

“I’m not aloof. I just feel the need to come down to your level.”

“Ah.”

Annoyed when he said nothing else, she sighed. “I’m going to do those course corrections whether you want me to right now or not.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself, Miss I-Always-Need-To-Be-In-Control. I’ll bet you’re rigid like that all the time. Unbending control, right?”

Hot anger jumped into her cheeks. “Without control, there is chaos. Besides, I’m a Lingorian and proud of it. We’re a race who cherishes pride, schedules and steely control over every aspect of life.”

“And why do I care?”

“I’m trying to tell you why I am the way I am.”

“Nope.” He shook his head, boredom clear in his expression. “You’re that way from something else. National pride has nothing to do with it. Hell, back in the day, I was from Earth, but that’s not why I love money, fast women and faster ships.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t been killed by someone before now. Asshole.” She glanced quickly away and pretended an interest in the display on her datapad. There was no other choice than to be in control; otherwise, she’d be forced to reckon with the voices in her head telling her she wasn’t good enough, would never be good enough. No way was she going to let Stratton know that. “How long are you planning to cruise at this pace? We’re supposed to reach the moon Aga no later than 1300 hours tomorrow. You keep this crawl, and we’ll finish in the back of the pack. That scenario is not on my agenda.”

“Is that a problem,
kita
?”

The man never stopped! Her chest burned with irritation. “Yes, since the point of any race is to finish first.” Unable to help it, she turned and regarded him again. Despite his lack of manners or decency, the man intrigued her. He held a lifetime of secrets in those deep brown eyes. The trick was to get him to share. “Why do you keep calling me
kita
? What does it mean?”

“On the last planet I lived on, it’s used as a derogatory term meaning spoiled or privileged.” Stratton shrugged, and the gesture caused the slick suit to pull tightly across his impressive shoulders. Shiny foiled patches and emblems of sponsors flashed in the weak interior illumination. “I figured it fits, since you’re so bent on getting your own way.”

“You have no idea what drives me or makes me who I am.” She gripped the datapad so hard, the lightweight plastic dug into her skin.

“Is that so?” His gaze flickered over her face, his expression clearly bored. “You have to be in control every minute, you probably wear your hair back like that until it gives you a headache—every day, correct? You get annoyed when people don’t do what you say that exact moment. Seems to me you’re so tense, a titanium rod would be jealous of your backbone.”

Willa hooked a finger into the neckline of her suit and pulled at the confining fabric. Angry heat rolled over her body, becoming trapped within the outfit. Damned uniform. What good would it do to keep a crew member alive in the event of a crash if the fabric meant she’d burn to death internally? “What about you? Don’t you demand as much control? Just look at the stunt you used getting into the cockpit.”

“That wasn’t control. It was seizing an opportunity.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. “We’re not talking about me.”

“Start sharing, Stratton. It’ll be a long trip otherwise.” She secured the datapad into a slot on the wall, then punched a button that brought up a star map on the windscreen. “At our present rate of speed, it’ll be three days before we make it to the moon.”

Idiot. At the checkpoint and after the mandatory rest period, there was no way he’d be back in the pilot’s seat. They had to get through the checkpoints as quickly as possible. Didn’t he understand the concept of the rally?

Stratton chuckled. The deep, rich sound reverberated through the close confines and did strange things to her insides. “In your world, you might rule the roost, but remember, I’m the pilot. What I say goes.”

Right, as if he even had an idea of what her home life was like. Willa bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop the retort. “My life is exactly the reason I’m here.”

“Fair enough, but resist the urge to tell me. I’m not in the market for a BFF.” He swiveled the chair until he faced the instrument panel. “If we burn through the bulk of our fuel now, we won’t have enough to sprint for that checkpoint tomorrow. I’m not going to come up short in order to stay on your schedule.”

She stared at the star chart, determined not to look at his smug face again. “Listen, the only reason I’m on this bird with you is to win. There’s no other option. If you can’t deliver the goods, I’ll be forced to evict you from your position and get someone else.”

More than anything, she wanted the accolades that went along with crossing that checkpoint first and entering their energy signature for the official record. He could keep the damned prize money. Funds would be nice, but that wasn’t her objective. All she wanted was for her father and brothers to see her at the top of each race leg—and for them to say she was worthy despite her sex.