A couple days later with the Javelin fueled up, Caayn, Razor, and Branson loaded the last of the supplies and perishables while Smyrna carried her bag to their room.

“So are we ready to go?” Mn’eth asked.

“Just waiting for Rush,” Caayn told him.

“I haven’t seen him since…” Mn’eth shrugged.

“He doesn’t stay gone for long. He’ll be back soon. We’re in no hurry yet, since we haven’t been given an assignment. Though, I’m sure we’ll find one as soon as we get out of the radio range of Janus.”

Caayn had enlightened her on the topics of black marketers and corsairs, and how they were more apt to keep radio silence when Janus emissaries might intercept communications.

Caayn looked at the cabinet that held the communicators. He’d explained when they were docked, whenever they left the ship, they usually took one with them so they could be reached, in case of emergencies. Caayn said it was unlike Rush to forget to take one with him.

“Maybe he thought he’d be right back,” Smyrna said. “I’m going to take these to our quarters.”

Our quarters. She thought of the place where she’d stayed, not knowing her fate, waiting to find Baldwin Porter. And now, this was the bed—and room—she would share with the man she’d pledged herself to.

She set the bag on the chair and turned around. “Caayn!”

He’d silently followed her in. “I thought a proper christening of the room was in order.”

Smyrna smiled, then bit her lip with anticipation. She didn’t push him away. She melted against him, instead, and her body responded—nipples tightening, back arching, and a deep, wet heat building deep within her core.

“Yes…” she whispered just before his mouth closed over hers ready to indulge herself in feeling his firm rippling muscles under her hands.

He was so beautiful and perfect, and he was all hers. She kept reminding herself that he was all hers, and he wanted her, and she could let herself stop worrying or thinking or feeling anything but sweet, burning pleasure.

They’d been through the worst. Surely, the best was yet to come.

Passion raced through her in little tongues of fire, lighting her up from the inside while Caayn’s tongue slid into her mouth.

She tilted her head back and sighed, eyes closing, and the groan from deep in his throat made her core tighten deliciously.

His mouth moved lower, to her chest, his tongue licking and swirling.

She arched her back to press her body closer to him, moaning as he closed over one of her aching nipples.

“You’re so amazing,” he panted as he lapped at them, making her squirm and writhe.

She had never felt anything like it before. Not just pleasure, though the pleasure was overwhelming. It was knowing the perfect, beautiful man on top of her was moving with her, groaning and grunting because of the taste of her body and the sound of the pleasure he brought to fruition within her.

Her pleasure turned him on. It made him growl and pant. This further fueled the desire within her as his hands slid over her hips before his fingers dug into her flesh.

She parted her legs, and he groaned. Smyrna looked down and watched as he ran the sides of his face along the insides of her thighs, letting his lips touch her most sacred places, and the primal nature of it made her want to scream.

Her hips rose from the bed in response to his mouth. She released a moan.

Caayn’s breath came in short hard bursts as he licked and tasted her essence, his fingers digging into her thighs, holding her down when she threatened to buck him off and when she came to a climax, stiffening all over.

He waited until she finished before running his tongue over the insides of her thighs.

She could tell he was barely holding back, nipping at her sensitive skin, breathing hard and heavy. She looked down and he glanced up at her. Her heart raced faster than ever, she opened her legs wider.

“I can’t take it slow,” he grunted.

“Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice a low rumbling sigh she didn’t recognize.

He crawled up the length of her—gorgeous specimen of manhood that he was—and settled over her.

His hardness parted her lips and pressed against her entrance. Their gazes locked just before their bodies did and something passed between them. Something wordless and instinctual. Something deep and basic and primal.

And then he drove forward and she bit down on her lower lip to hold back the soul-shattering shout that threatened to fill the room.

He moved over her, inside her, taking what he wanted while he gave her so much more.

Tears filled her eyes as he pumped in and out, tears of wonder and knowing something so much bigger than her was happening. Tears she hadn’t wept in so long. Tears she didn’t even realize that were forming and escaping.

Smyrna tightened her grip on every part of him she could, dragging her nails across his shoulders and back, squeezing him with her thighs.

He rewarded her with a barrage of deep, sharp thrusts that made her dig her teeth into his shoulder as he filled her completely, over and over.

“Yes… yes…” she grunted, meeting his kiss, thrusting her tongue against his in time with his thrusts into her body. It was so sweet, so hot, so right. They both moved faster, breathed faster, harder, their sweat-slick skin making their bodies slide against each other as the tension grew and she knew she was going to explode again. And when she did, he did, and they both froze in one delicious moment before collapsing together.

Her heart swelled and she smiled as she stroked the back of his head while he rested against her.

“Are you okay?” he whispered against her neck.

“Better than,” she whispered back with a smile.

He pushed himself up just enough to look down at her. “You were crying. I can still taste your tears on your skin.”

She sighed. She didn’t want to think about it. Or to talk about it.

He waited, patiently, eyes narrowed, then finally said. “Rather not discuss it?”

She raised a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s… I haven’t cried, since…”

“Since Leticia?”

She nodded, glad this man understood her.

* * *

Smyrna and Caayn fell into an easy half-sleep, drifting in and out, touching and stroking and kissing. Whispering the sorts of things people whisper in the dark, especially when they’re just starting this sort of thing.

His hands roamed, over her body and her face.

She lost herself in his touch, his kiss. Strong, firm, demanding lips which landed on her jaw and slid down her throat. His tongue flicked over her skin and set it on fire—the louder she sighed or gasped, the more pleasure rained down on her.

“I need you.” Over and over as his hands owned her body, stroking and caressing.

As he rolled her onto her back and she opened her legs to take him inside. When he thrust forward, she closed her eyes and let him carry her away to a plane beyond what she knew existed.

A new world so far beyond what she expected.

A new world she was ready to embrace, next to him.