Page 32

Her traitor of a body softened against his, and her fingers curved slightly around him in his pants. He jerked under the fabric in response and groaned, his eyes closing, as his throat worked. Suddenly there was nothing she wanted more in the world than to lean forward and kiss over his Adam’s apple.

So she did, rising on her toes and brushing her lips softly over his skin. His scent wound around her. Deep and woodsy, it was entirely unique to him. She breathed in, and it was like it set itself deep down in her soul, entwining itself around her DNA. She knew without thinking that she would recognize it anywhere, anytime.

He shivered, his entire body shuddering, and she felt a sense of power that she could bring a man like this to his knees.

“Gods, B, you have no idea what you do to me,” he groaned.

“Oh, I might have a bit of an idea.” She breathed and stroked her palm up and down his length.

A needy ache set in between her thighs at the feel of him. He was long and thick… Bloody hell, the man was utterly gifted.

Another growl rumbled from the center of his chest, and he spun them around again, leaning back against the walls and pulling her between his spread thighs. One big hand palming her ass, he pulled her closer as he drove the other into her hair, holding her where he wanted her.

Then his mouth crashed down over hers, and she was lost.

His kiss wasn’t soft and exploratory like she expected. It didn’t tempt and persuade. Instead, he took her lips like he owned them, owned her, and damn it if that utter confidence didn’t hit her on a primal level.

A small whimper escaped the back of her throat, and she leaned into him. His big hand on the back of her head moved, and he tilted her lips to the angle he wanted. With a hard sweep of his tongue, he demanded entry.

She opened for him on a small whimper, in thrall to his touch. Surging in with a growl, he slid his tongue against hers in an erotic slip-slide of a dance that stole every thought she had. All she could do was wrap herself around him, craving his warmth and more of his touch.

Then just as suddenly as he’d kissed her, he yanked his lips away.

She gasped, need and instinct rolling through her as she tried to pull him back down. Reclaim his lips with hers.

“No, B,” he said, holding her away from him as he looked around. “Listen. It’s the red alert. Something’s wrong.”

Lady’s teeth. Why did humans set their alerts to such an ear-splitting volume? Rann knew that their baseline senses were much duller than standard Latharian, and they didn’t have the advantage of enhancement, but this was completely and utterly ridiculous. Damaging already-duller senses was counter-intuitive.

Wincing, he tried not to take it personally as B pushed away from him like she’d been burned. She raced across the engine bay to the bank of control panels across the far wall with him in hot pursuit.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered under her breath, scanning across the panels with a practiced glance.

A frown creased her brow as she reached out almost absently to slap several buttons. He sighed in relief as the sound assaulting his ears decreased by half.

Thank the gods, his ears were going to be ringing for hours after that.

“What’s happening? What’s going on?”

He looked at the panels, but they were in Terran, which he didn’t read that well. But it wasn’t a type of Terran he’d ever seen—the word forms odd and not at all like the ones he was used to. They didn’t look like the ones Jesh and Jex used either, and they weren’t even from this reality. He had absolutely no clue what he was looking at.

Draanth, he wished he had either Anson or Jex on feed to explain.

“It’s the starboard engine,” B’s voice was clipped as she focused on a right-hand panel, scrolling through graphs and readouts with one hand ran a finger down the figures on a second screen. “It’s not venting properly.”

“Okay? What does that mean?” It sounded bad. Her tight expression said it was bad.

She didn’t look at him, her expression tight as her hands flew over the keys. He’d never seen actual keyboards until he’d met Mira, and he’d certainly never seen them as part of a live ship system. But that shouldn’t have been a surprise. Even he could tell that this ship was archaic and should have been in a museum.

He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. Just how desperate were these females? Desperate enough to risk open space in what amounted to a junker?

“If it doesn’t vent, then we’ll get a buildup of pressure,” she explained, keys rattling as she typed. Fast.

He cast a glance at the screen again.

“And if there’s a buildup of pressure?” he prompted.

“Boom.”