I’d been doing a good job keeping my arousal under control until Breeze spoke. Heat blazed, and I got hard again. The desire to kiss her—and more—had hovered at the forefront of my mind all evening, but I tried to be noble and not take advantage of the situation or her vulnerability. She was a strong woman, but she’d been through hellish times, and I never wanted to do anything to hurt her.
Her eyes were wide—she’d shocked herself with her statement, but in their blue depths desire glowed. She meant what she’d said—she just hadn’t meant to say it. Attraction had been the elephant in the room we’d tiptoed around.
A kiss was just a kiss—unless it wasn’t. A kiss could be so many things. Or nothing. It definitely wouldn’t be nothing with Breeze. I had to reject her offer, except I hated to douse the light in her eyes, and dammit, I ached to kiss her.
“I want to kiss you, too, but it wouldn’t be wise,” I said.
“How will we know what’s wise unless we test it?” Not a convincing argument, but her beckoning smile was all the persuasion I needed.
Scooting closer, I slipped my hand under the thick swath of her hair and tilted her face. I touched my lips to hers. This little exercise wasn’t wise, but oh, I intended to test it. I was no scientist like Breeze, but I’d learned a hypothesis had to be tested before it could be accepted as fact. I insisted on proof I was an idiot. Her eyes closed, and her breath perfumed with Irish whiskey wafted over me. Her palm rested against my chest, her thumb teasing my skin through the rip in my shirt.
I continued to brush my mouth over hers, savoring the anticipation, and then teased the seam of her lips with my tongue. I’d intended a sweet, soft kiss—at least to start. But when she emitted a moan of pleasure and opened her mouth, sensation exploded like fireworks in a shower of desire. We kissed deep and hard, tongues tangling, exploring, then coming back to tangle again.
I feared at first, I might be too forceful, but when I retreated, she advanced, and restraint crumpled under the weight of my need. I pulled her closer and kissed her for all I was worth, which was a small fortune, actually. C-Force had invested mucho dinero in my modifications.
I kissed her eyelids, her jaw, the slope of her neck then claimed her mouth again. Her heart hammered in sync with mine, and she slipped a hand under my shirt to stroke my synthetic, hypersensitive skin. Embedded receptors shot a barrage of pleasure signals to my brain.
I crushed her lips in another needful kiss while smoothing my hand over her spine and then slipping around to cup her breast. Her nipple tightened against my palm. My blood heated to liquid fire. I could practically hear flames crackle in my ears.
“I want you so much,” I murmured.
“Yes.” Nodding, she kissed me again.
Our lips moved in sync. My thoughts raced ahead to how our bodies would fit together. My cock strained against my pants. I allowed myself one more kiss then dragged my mouth away from temptation and pressed my face to her hair. “If we don’t stop now, we’ll end up in my bed.”
She nibbled on my earlobe. “And the downside is?” Arousal and humor hummed in her voice. She continued to fondle my back and chest, wreaking havoc with my willpower and concentration.
I captured her roving hands and held them outside my shirt and pressed my forehead to hers. “For me? None. For you? Let’s take a night to think about it.”
“I know what I want. I want to sleep with you.”
Blazing desire threatened to undermine good intentions. Celibate by choice, I hadn’t realized how powerful the urge for release would be. If she wanted it, too, then what was the problem?
Except, we both were ending a long dry spell, and lust clouded clarity. Two days ago, we were strangers. In two or three more days, she’d leave, and we’d probably never see each other again. The fallout from her scientific discovery would consume her life, and I’d return to C-Force. I had decided that. I’d wallowed in self-pity long enough.
If—when—we had sex, both of us should remember the interlude fondly. We’d both experienced enough regrets in our lives.
I released her hands to stroke her cheek. Dark smudges from the bruises shadowed her face, but electric-blue eyes beguiled. “Then you’ll still want it tomorrow,” I said.
“You’re not going to give in on this, are you?”
She had no idea how close I was to caving. But I was trying to be gallant and put her needs first.
“I’m going to hold you to it!” she said.
“Okay, good.” I smiled. If a few kisses had generated such heat, the sex would be incendiary.
Breeze stifled a yawn with her hand. “Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders guiltily, but then narrowed her eyes and poked my chest. “This doesn’t mean I’m too tired for sex.”
My lips twitched. “Never,” I replied, but her smothered yawn had alerted me to the lateness of the hour. We’d burned an entire day and evening and were entering the wee hours of the morning. She had been unconscious yesterday. “We’ve had a full day. You still have a concussion and need to rest. We should call it a night.”
“Rest up for tomorrow?”
“I’ll get you some sheets.” I hadn’t made up the sofa properly when I’d carried her to the cabin; I’d only covered her with a blanket. From a hall closet, I retrieved the linens and returned to the living room. She’d tossed the sofa back cushions on the floor to give herself a few inches more space. I spread a sheet over the sofa and tucked it in.
“You should take my room,” I persisted.
“Only if you’re there, too.”
I folded my arms and peered at her. “You’re kind of stubborn.” But I liked how she stood up for herself and what she wanted. That she was sexually assertive. It heartened me that her asshole ex hadn’t destroyed her spirit. She’d seemed afraid of her own shadow when she’d first arrived, but I’d begun to see that didn’t accurately reflect who she was.
“Says the man with his arms crossed.” She spread out the top sheet, flipped the blanket over it, and tossed her pillow onto the sofa.
“Good night.” I brushed a lingering kiss to her lips. “Sweet dreams.”
“They’ll be sex dreams.” She sashayed the short distance to the dining room to retrieve her borrowed nightshirt. I’d almost swear she added an extra swing to her walk for my benefit.
“As long as they’re sex dreams of me,” I countered with a wink and retreated. I did not expect to get much sleep, and, if I did, I was pretty sure I’d be dreaming of her, too.
* * * *
The bathroom door clicked closed, and I remained in the dining room, hugging his shirt to my chest. Tack had turned me down, but the rejection had come with a rain check—which I intended to cash in. He desired me as much as I desired him. However, I had to respect his clear-headed pragmatism. After a four-plus-year dry spell, jumping into bed with the first man I was attracted to was impetuous. We’d been complete strangers a day earlier, and I still didn’t know him well.
But, oh, it felt liberating to enjoy a man’s company again, to feel like myself again, to act without fear. Add Tack’s over-the-top, hot-as-hell sexiness, and how could I resist?
The bathroom door opened, and then I heard the bedroom door open and shut, so I scooted down the hall. I washed out my damp panties in the bathroom sink and slung them over the shower to dry. I hung the rest of my clothes on the door hook.
As I padded to the living room, Tack’s soft shirt brushed against my nipples and my sensitized skin, heightening my arousal and adding to the intimacy of wearing his clothing. I crossed my arms and hugged myself. Some men resented women borrowing their clothing; the idiots didn’t realize what a compliment it was. He-who-would-soon-be-forgotten-forever had disliked it, and, after a short time, I didn’t want to wear anything the asshole owned.
Bandit had settled in for the night on his bed. I’d expected the dog to follow Tack, but maybe he felt the need to watch over me. The dog was protective like his master. I petted his head. “Good night, Bandit.” He licked my hand and wagged.
I turned off the fireplace, doused the lights, and slipped into bed. My weary, storm-battered body needed to rest, but my mind buzzed, analyzing everything that had happened. In a very short time, Tack had changed me back into what I had been. I felt like the old me again. Feeling safe enough to share my discovery had enabled me to drop my emotional and physical guard and rejoin the human race.
I liked and respected Tack. I trusted him—I had the hots for him. He’d kick-started my libido. How better to celebrate my newfound old self than with wild sex with a hot cyborg—and I didn’t doubt the sex would be wild and hot.
I knew he had no interest in an emotionally intimate relationship. Any man who lived like a recluse in the middle of nowhere didn’t have strong attachment needs. Nor was I ready to get serious. But hot sex? Yeah, let’s start with that.
In truth, Tack’s unavailability as a romantic partner enhanced his acceptability as a lover. He wouldn’t demand more than I felt comfortable giving. He offered me a chance to reengage with the male gender on my terms and pace.
I wouldn’t be averse to a deeper relationship later on. But for now? A sexual interlude suited me to a T. We lived hundreds of miles apart, and barring any future RTC malfunctions and sudden sandstorms, our paths would never need to cross, unless we wanted them to. If we chose, we could rendezvous when he visited the city for supplies. I could arrange more business trips between Città and Stadt with a layover at the cabin. If I could find it again!
I’d assumed the cabin lay along the path between the two cities. The RTC had gotten off course and then had been picked up by the whirlwind and hurtled god knows where. I jotted a mental note to ask Tack in the morning where the cabin was.
I had more questions, too. He’d aroused my curiosity as well as my lust. He’d said he’d been furloughed from C-Force, but why? What had brought him to Sajave? The people attracted to this planet who were willing to face its challenges tended to be pioneers, entrepreneurs, or runaways. His brewery could be entrepreneurial, except it wasn’t. So why come here? Furlough implied temporary, but the capital investments he’d made in his homestead suggested he’d intended to stay awhile.
Had he been married? If our make-out session served as an indication, the man had…skills.
Bandit trotted over and poked his wet doggy nose in my face.
I stroked his head and silky ears. “Can’t you sleep, either?” I whispered.
He pawed the sofa and whined.
“What is it?”
He nosed the blanket.
“You want to join me?” I lifted the covers, and Bandit hopped onto the sofa and settled in. His tail thumped. I covered us both and draped my arm over him.
I expected my mind to continue to spin, but my eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted off.