Iskar was about to explode. In all his years of fighting and command, his self-discipline had never been tested like this.

Each step she took sent a jolt of lust through his body. Each twist of her hips, each touch of her hands, each waft of her intoxicating scent was pure, exquisite torture.

She didn’t understand what she did to him. When he’d burst through the roof and found her standing over that sniveling wretch of a human, white-hot jealousy had flooded his mind.

He’d almost killed the man there and then, but he’d partly come to his senses, just enough to know that if he plasma-fried this creature in front of his precious human, it might traumatize her.

He hadn’t wanted her to see that side of him, so he’d waited until she was safely in the glider before briefly returning to dispense a very Kordolian form of justice.

“Please…” His voice was a cracked whisper as he led Mari into his personal quarters. “Inside.”

Look at you, idiot. You are barely coherent. Pull yourself together!

After all, he wanted to make a good first impression. As they’d flown back to base, he’d communicated with Nakiva, his Kordolian assistant, and asked her to send extra light-pods, fragrant Ekinese lotions, and a box of Veronian sweets to his chambers.

Iskar was aware his request was highly out of character, but Nakiva hadn’t questioned it.

As Mari entered his private residence, Iskar was grateful he’d planned ahead. The light-pods added a pleasant muted glow to the room, and the spicy-floral scent of Ekinese sooriba filled the air. Suddenly, his plain, charmless quarters were transformed into a place that was warm and inviting.

He wanted her to feel comfortable, not afraid. Although she tried her best to hide it, her unease was obvious.

As the Qualum door closed behind them, Iskar took her into his arms. “I think I must be some sort of masochist.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement. “Why do you say that?”

“Because here I am, with the woman of my dreams in my arms, and I want to prolong this torture.”

“Prolong?”

“Mari, you need to be comfortable.” He slid his ceremonial jacket off her shoulders and slowly drank her in with his eyes. “Right now, I can tell you aren’t.”

“With you, I’m more than comfortable.” She leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

Iskar slid his hands over the curve of her waist in an affectionate caress. “Through that doorway, there is a shower. In the garment-pod, there are robes. Take your time.” He looked down at her body again. The brilliant white dress she wore encased her from neck to knee, covering her arms. It left nothing to the imagination; he could see the outline of her breasts, the delicate points of her nipples, the flat planes of her stomach, the curve of her hips, the slight indentation where her sex was…

“You like the dress?” She followed the direction of his gaze.

“No. I will not lie, seeing you like this makes me incredibly horny, but it is not to my taste. I would rather see you comfortable.”

The garment had been designed purely to emphasize and objectify her body. Iskar breathed in sharply, trying to rein in his lust. “I would rather see you without that dress.”

“That can be arranged.” Slowly, sensually, she undid the zipper.

Iskar nearly choked.

Mari peeled the dress off her body like a second skin, letting it drop to the floor. Still wearing those ridiculous silver shoes—oh, how nicely they accentuated her long golden legs—she walked toward the shower, glancing over her shoulder. “You coming, Sir?”

“Sir?” His stiff cock banged against his armor-plate.

“You’re the boss around here, aren’t you?”

Iskar’s frantic hands were all over his exo-armor, activating the release mechanism. Suddenly, he felt very hot beneath his protective suit.

Mari disappeared into the wash-chamber. Damn temptress. His armor clattered to the floor, and he stalked after her, unable to contain himself any longer.

At last, she would be his, and finally this exquisite madness would be tamed.