she lay back.
She wanted a simple life, free of entanglements, free of complications. Commander Frayne was very, very complicated—and that made her want him all the more.
Kell swore under his breath, trying without much success to find a comfortable position on the hovermattress. The mattress itself wasn’t the problem. Neither was the unfamiliar environment. He usually could sleep anywhere, at any time. A soldier grabbed rest whenever it became available. He could fall into a deep sleep in minutes and come to full wakefulness in a second.
But that ability had deserted him. More specifically, his cock refused to let him sleep. It was hard and aching, demanding that he get up, stride the few short paces to Mara’s quarters, and lay his weight atop her. Sink into her heat.
His peripheral vision was excellent. He’d seen the blatant interest in her eyes. The way she looked at him as if he was the last drop of water in the Gephel Sand Wastes. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
It didn’t make any damn sense—he was 8th Wing, she was a scavenger—and it also made perfect sense. Whatever either of them thought about the other’s ethics, or lack thereof, their bodies hungered for each other.
She would be a wild thing beneath him, writhing and fierce. The kind of woman who wanted it hard and hot. He already knew she would leave scratches down his back. Just as he already knew he would leave marks where he gripped her thighs. Those thoughts alone made his cock swell even further.
If he was alone, he’d take care of things. Finish himself off with a few quick, brutal strokes of his hand, and then finally get some sleep. But he wasn’t alone. The scavenger slept only steps away, no door on her quarters. He knew he wouldn’t be quiet. His need was too fierce. He’d come with a groan. She’d hear him.
The thought aroused him even more. He’d never been an exhibitionist. But things changed. People changed.
Was she lying in her bed now, thinking about him, quietly touching herself?
Focus on the mission. Mara was conscripted, an unwilling collaborator. Having sex with her was a complication he, and the mission, did not need. No matter how much he and Mara wanted each other.
Gods, this was torture. He needed to rest, an impossible feat if he kept tormenting himself. He drew upon every ounce of his training, all of his self-control and discipline. Slowly, in painful increments, he willed himself to relax, loosening the tension that ran like plasma fire through his body. His breathing slowed as sleep finally took him.
His dreams were ripe with images of her. Tawny skin. Almond-shaped eyes closed in pleasure. Reckless, eager mouth.
When the sleep protocol ended and the lights came on, he woke just as aroused and frustrated as he’d been hours earlier. Mara rustled around in her quarters.
He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, feeling like ten kinds of hell. He dressed quickly, put away the hovermattress, then ducked into the narrow hygiene bay to splash water on his face and relieve himself. It took a few minutes before his throbbing cock subsided enough so he could piss. Reviewing evasive maneuvers and combat patterns helped distract him. After, he washed, and looked at himself in the mirror. A hard-faced man stared back, his mouth a tight line, tension vibrating through his shoulders.
When he emerged, a mug of steaming kahve was pressed into his hand. A fully-dressed Mara slipped past him into the hygiene bay, avoiding his gaze, but he saw enough to note she looked a little drawn, as if she’d spent an equally unsettled night. That didn’t make him feel any better.
He settled into the cockpit with his mug. A sip proved the kahve was dark and bitter, without sweetness. Exactly the way he liked it. Something he and the scavenger had in common. Including their shared preference for spicy food. He didn’t want to like her. That would be far more labyrinthine than simple lust.
Kell drank his kahve and stared at the nearing Ilden’s Lash. The alarm blared, indicating they were less than a solar hour away from reaching it. Red light filled the cockpit as the ship flew closer. He studied the phenomenon. Few 8th Wing pilots ever got this near. He could examine it in greater depth, report back to command. The information could be useful for future operations.
“Forget it.” Mara slipped into the cockpit, also cradling a mug. She turned off