lunch. Asked if you were going to be going through the new cargo soonish or if he needed to send someone else.”
Nokx growled deeply and spat something in rough Xarav, one of the dialects she didn’t speak, and the other male muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
She bit her lip and slid lower under the sheets. It sounded like Faros was making trouble just to make trouble, the jerk. Why couldn’t Nokx take a little break and sleep in, or at least spend a bit more time in bed? EJ missed the last part of the Xaravian conversation as she tried to get her thoughts away from fucking Nokx and back to the potential task of moving a shitload of boxes. At least she could work the tension and knots out of her muscles through stretching. And it would give her an excuse to ask Nokx for a massage later...
EJ sighed and once more untangled herself from the bed, though she squeaked as Nokx loomed over her once more. He grumbled and leaned down to kiss her, his fists indenting the mattress next to her shoulders. “I should keep you here for the rest of the day.”
She stroked his neck, studying the overlap of the scales, and smiled. “Or we can go work up a sweat moving boxes, and you can fuck me in the loading bay when we need a break.”
His eyes flashed silver as he bent to kiss her again. “You are a very distracting stowaway.”
EJ laughed and wiggled away. “Says the male with wandering hands. And you completely destroyed my clothes. I have to get dressed again.”
“Or maybe don’t,” he said. Nokx watched her as she returned to the duffel to search for a new shirt. The Xaravian didn’t bother to hide as he admired her figure. “Stay naked in my bed. I’ll move the cargo so quickly it’ll be done in a blink.”
“This is a long-term plan,” EJ said. She frowned as she pulled out a new shirt and gauged whether she’d be able to carry cargo while wearing it. “If I stay on the Sraibur because I’ve done such a good job working in the cargo hold, we can keep getting distracted for days and days. But if your captain kicks me off, then you don’t get any more lovin’. Unless you feel like joining me on the Hollbrd and exile on a distant planet.”
The Xaravian grumbled, his scales an odd shade of blue-green. It wasn’t until EJ rolled back what she’d said that nerves took over. She couldn’t look at him. “Not that I’m implying you would, uh, want me to stick around long-term. It was just a joke.”
“Was it?” he asked, voice deep and calm.
She paused and looked back at where he sprawled on the bed. His silver eyes held an intensity that made her very, very nervous. Like maybe he actually did want her to stick around or follow her to an uninhabited planet. EJ’s heart thumped against her ribs. Surely she wasn’t actually considering... Surely he wasn’t actually considering...
She shook herself and pulled the shirt on, attempting to smile as if it was just a casual conversation and not the opening salvo in some kind of ‘where do we stand’ relationship talk. She didn’t want to stick around for that kind of seriousness. Not yet. “Yeah. We’re having fun. I want to keep having fun for a little while, and it sure seems like you do. So let’s go move some cargo.”
Nokx stood and loomed over her, his fingers trailing across her cheek. EJ’s breath caught as she stared up at him. The Xaravian made a thoughtful noise and abruptly turned her around to nudge her toward the door, his hand a reassuring weight on her shoulder. “Yes. I look forward to seeing you... working.”
She shivered at the nuance, the weird emphasis in ‘working.’ Maybe he planned to take her up on that whole ‘fucking in the cargo bay’ suggestion after they’d gotten sweaty. EJ smiled and tried to memorize the route to the cargo bay from Nokx’s quarters, just in case she needed to flee, but most of her attention lingered on where he held her shoulder.
They only passed one other pirate—a younger male who plastered himself against the wall to avoid getting near her—before arriving in the back of the ship. For a disorienting moment, panic boiled up as the day she’d fled the Hollbrd came rushing back—the slightly musty and chemical scent of the