Solar Storm (5 page)

Instead, she was swathed in flimsy flexi-synth, sucking air through the tiny re-breather system strapped to her back. Counting her breaths, she tried not to hyperventilate and fuck the breather membrane six ways to Sunday. She’d never felt more exposed in her life. The only consolation was that space squids weren’t interested in the tiny energy output of the average human body. Thankfully.

They preferred engines, which meant the twin engines dangling below her would be far more appealing than she was. Since she was attached to the damn things by the positioning slings running between her feet, though, that line of thought was not helping her stress levels.
 

Standing in the sling’s stirrups, she braced herself against the weight of the engines and rotated her wrists outward. The winch under her feet whirred as the engines rose a notch. Her sharp gaze estimated the distance between them and the hole—their destination. A little higher. Twisting her wrists back and forth, she ratcheted the engines up.
 

It was hard work. She had to use every muscle in her body to keep the load on the end of the strapping aligned the right way. Her breathing roared in her ears and sweat beaded the length of her spine.
 

She was going to stink. She should have made Kel do this. They were his damn engines, and if his shoulders weren’t as broad as a destroyer, she would have. None of the suits would fit him. She sniggered under her breath—it would have served him right if she’d made him squeeze into one. Maybe it would have calmed that raging libido of his.
 

Her thoughts brought her right back around to his demand and that too-hot-to-handle kiss. Her body clenched as she gritted her teeth to keep her moan contained. Gods, the man knew how to kiss. She frowned. Wait. Perhaps he
didn’t
. She’d just been too busy recently without a hint of action between the sheets. Perhaps
anything—
even her slimy ex—would do. Yeah, that was it. She needed to scratch an itch, and she needed the engines, so the deal was stacked in her favor. She’d use him just as much as he was using her.
 

Her heart didn’t come into it.

The engines swung in a gentle arc toward the ship.
 

“Shit…too low, too low.” Hissing between her teeth as she identified the problem, she worked her wrists again, ignoring the ache in order to bring the load to the right level. The heavy engines swung into place, just kissing the edge of the aperture with a metallic whisper.
 

“Hey.” His voice crackled over the comm in her ear. “Watch it with the swinging, gorgeous. These babies are delicate.”

She shot a look at Kel, where he was leaning against the balustrade on the bridge. Even from this distance, she could see the amusement twinkling in his eyes. Gods help her, he was gorgeous. Her lips still tingled from his kiss. Her body more than tingled. A low heat simmered through her blood, warming her in ways that had her itching to say “screw the cargo”, anchor the
Lady
and drag him to bed for the next few days.
 

Three weeks should just about do it.

“Not helping. Really not helping.” She wasn’t sure whether her words were for him or for her, but they had the desired effect. He grinned again and disappeared below to clamp the new engines into place.
 

Half an hour later, she fired the new dual-engine up to seventy percent and watched it match the existing older engine on the other side.
 

“Perfect,” she said softly, impressed despite herself. That could have gone a lot worse.
 

She flicked a glance up to find Kel watching her. The dark promise in his eyes took her breath away. The heat in her body roared into a full-blown inferno. Under her top, her nipples tightened to rub in sensual torment against the leather, and the ache between her thighs made her want to clamp them together. Hard.
 

She swallowed, and did her best to hide her anticipation and slight nervousness behind a blank expression. Anticipation because she’d dreamed of him for years, nerves because she’d dreamed of him for years…and he’d blackmailed her into his bed.

Hardening her heart, she swung the
Lady
out past the eddies to the relatively calm bank of the road and dropped the anchor. She pushed off the console and walked below without a backward glance.
 

“Come on, you’ll be wanting your payment.”

Someone had hurt her. Badly. Kelwin lounged on the bed in the captain’s quarters and watched the shapely and very feminine outline through the glass of the shower screen.
 

She’d trusted someone enough to open up and they’d betrayed that trust. Thrown it back in her face and hurt her in the process. Hurt her so much that she struggled to trust again.

Anger welled up abruptly, taking him by surprise as it roared through his veins with blinding speed. His fists clenched into tight balls at his sides. He would happily track down and kill whoever it was. His body ached with awareness, all his senses enhanced as he readied himself to fight a non-existent threat.
 

Recognizing the symptoms, he clamped his teeth together and forced the emotion back down. It was the beginning of battle-rage, the curse of all Soldiers. In service, it would have activated the glands implanted deep in his neck and poured Euphoria into his body, turning him into an untiring, merciless killer. Nowadays it gave him a bad case of the munchies and a blinding headache.
 

He knocked back the contents of his tumbler and hissed as the contents burned their way down to his stomach. Not a bad whiskey. Which was a pity, because at the moment he couldn’t focus on anything other than the woman showering on the other side of the glass.
 

Tumbler cradled in his hand, he dropped his head back to the pillows and groaned to himself. He was so hard his cock could double as a support strut for the main sail. He couldn’t remember wanting a woman so much in his life. Ever.

What had possessed him to promise romance? He cursed under his breath. All he wanted at the moment was a quick, dirty fuck. He’d take her at least three times,
then
perhaps he could concentrate on being romantic.
 

“Suck it up, Sayeed.” His voice was low as he admonished himself. “You promised, so you deliver.”

“Deliver what?”
 

Rhys stepped from the shower, wrapping a worn towel around her slender frame. Trails of water drew patterns over the golden skin of her legs, an illusion of lace that was more erotic than the platinum-laced stockings worn by high-class hookers. For such a petite woman, she had legs that went on forever.
 

“Uh, nothing. You look fantastic.” He all but bounced off the bed to approach her. She watched him every step of the way, tilting her head back as he neared. The difference in their sizes hit him again. Compared to her delicateness, he felt like a brute…unworthy of touching her but desperate to all in the same breath.

Male triumph and feral need caught him in their net as he reached forward to hook a finger under the front of the towel. Slowly, inch by inch, he drew her toward him. Desire and vulnerability darkened her eyes, her expression open and honest. He doubted she was aware of it. Rhys Devin was as hard as nails and twice as stubborn. He suspected that if she’d realized her eyes betrayed her, she’d have gouged them out. With a blunt spoon.

“Like…really fantastic.” Leaning down, he brushed his lips over hers softly, back and forth, learning their luscious shape until it was seared into his mind.
 

He’d bartered for one night, and he knew without asking that one night was all he was going to get so he needed to make it good—make sure she remembered him. Jealousy sliced through him at the thought of other men, fuelling his determination to ensure that
he
was the man she judged all others by. He pulled a fraction away and released his death-grip on the front of the towel.
 

“I want you,” he whispered against her lips. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you.”
Why did that seem a lot longer than half a day?

Her ragged breath shattered his control. With a groan, he dragged her into his arms to kiss her. His tongue swept past her lips, opening them for his conquest, and thrust deep into the silken depths of her mouth. He moaned as her taste exploded on his tongue.
 

He’d tasted Detorian champagne and indulged his palate with strawberries from Julias Five but not even the most expensive gastronomic delights in the universe could compete with her. The tartness of life-giving oxygen and the almost-there flavor of crisp, cold H
₂
O. Natural and clean, they suited her and were far more to his taste than the cloying scents and lotions most women used.
 

Wrapping his arms around her, he trapped the towel between them as he made love to her with his mouth alone. Every stroke of his tongue along hers, every nibble and nip along her full lower lip…all with as much gentleness as he could muster. He wanted nothing more than to rip the towel from her lush figure and pull her down to the soft surface of the bed behind them, but he kept himself under tight control despite the complaints of his body. This wasn’t about him…this was about her.

He kissed her until she was whimpering against his lips, until her hands went from resting against his shoulders to wrapping around them, searching and exploring as she pressed into him. Just the feel of her soft curves against the harder planes of his body was enough to send him halfway to heaven in sweet, sensual torment.

Breaking away, he trailed kisses over the exposed line of her shoulder and tried to get his breathing under control. Her head dropped back, the damp mass of silky curls inviting the touch of his hands. Unable to resist, he drove one into her hair, sliding his fingers through the thick locks as he kissed up her neck. He nipped her earlobe lightly and smiled as she shivered.
 

Leaning back, he smoothed the hair from her temples to look into her face. Up close, the slight lightness at her hair roots revealed red wasn’t her natural color. He smiled to himself. So his little Rhys wasn’t quite as unconcerned about her appearance as she’d have him believe.
 

“You’re beautiful. You’ve bewitched me.” He stepped back and trailed a finger down her temple to follow the curve of her cheekbone. Flirting with the full curve of her lips, he moved lower, his fingertips brushing the delicate skin of her throat before sliding across her satiny skin to the knot in front of the towel.

“Last chance,” he whispered, unwilling to break the spell between them with anything louder. “Say you don’t want this, and we stop. You can have the engines without this.”

Chapter Five

You can have the engines without this.

His words froze Nerys in her tracks. A frown creased her brow as she looked up at him. His face was drawn, expression tight, as though he fought for control.
 

“Why? Why would you just give them to me?” The question escaped her lips before her mind could intervene and stop it. The sensible part of her brain urged her to accept his offer, throw him out of her room and set sail again. She might even make the full bonus if they left now.
 

He shrugged and looked away. Suspicion joined the arousal swirling through her veins and she narrowed her eyes. What was he playing at? Was this all a game to mess with her head…agree to one thing then give her an easy out? It had all the hallmarks of a mind fuck and
that
she didn’t like. Fuck it. She wasn’t letting him get away with that.
 

“Oh no you don’t. I won’t default. We agreed on this so don’t you dare back out on me now.”

With that, she kissed him, pouring all the pent up passion of a woman who sailed the solar roads alone, and with all the frustration of years of fantasy wrought around the man she’d fallen in love with as an impressionable teenager.
 

Grabbing him by the back of the neck, she explored. Slid her lips over his and back, savoring the shape and texture. The firmness and the slight brush of his stubble against her softer skin tantalized her before she swept her tongue against the seam to demand access. He parted them immediately and she pushed inside, groaning at the heat and deep, musky flavor of his kiss—like sandalwood and aged whisky. A familiar taste. One she couldn’t get enough of.

She was addicted to him. The man she’d idolized and who’d betrayed her the night before their wedding with a succession of Talorian lap-dancers. He owed her far more than a pair of engines, and she sure as hell planned on collecting.

He grunted in surprise as she pushed him back on the bed and clambered onto it next to him. The towel disappeared, but she didn’t care. Settling herself into his side, she claimed his lips with feather-soft kisses and light nips. Her hands worked at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to touch him.
 

They frustrated her, refusing to come loose. She growled. He broke from the kiss with a small chuckle and swept a hand down the opening. Buttons flew and scattered over the floor. One pinged off the closed doorway behind them.
 

“Happy now?” He grinned as she spread her hand, fingers wide, over his broad, muscled chest.