She’s going to say no, because she’s right—this is very complicated. And she should say no, so that I have an opportunity to take no for an answer.

Why should she let me touch her until there’s no doubt in her mind that I’m nothing like David?

But fuck, I want to touch her.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t have to be now. I just want to make sure you know that I want to make this up to— Wait, what?” I blink at her. “Did you just say yes? You’re going to let me taste you?”

“Do you have to say it like that?”

“Is there a more innocuous term, because all the ones I know are much dirtier.”

“Fine. Yes, I’m going to let you…do that. But I can’t promise I’ll like it.”

“Why wouldn’t you like it?”

“Well, I didn’t like it before. I mean, it was okay.”

“David?” I ask. Not that I really want an answer. Kaya nods. “Okay, I’ve never met the man, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say that everything he’s ever done to you, he’s done wrong. So don’t judge me by whatever standards that asshole set.”

“I promise to judge you on your own merits,” Kaya says, and I don’t realize she’s teasing me until I see the shy smile peeking through her expression.

“My own merits, huh? I’m about to be meritorious as fuck.”

She laughs, and I really want to hear that sound again. I also want to hear other, deeper sounds from her. Because so far, all I’ve done is drop her from a crashing ship, puncture the soles of her feet, and march her into a building already occupied by men eager to do violent things to her.

Basically, I owe her more orgasms than I’ll ever have a chance to give her, considering that I’m planning to find my sister and be off this shithole planet in the next few days. So the sooner we get started, the better.

My cock stiffens as I hook my hands behind her knees and Kaya squeals when I tug her onto her back. I ignore the demands of my own body, but that gets more difficult with her lying in front of me, hair splayed out across the towel, her knees parted beneath my hands.

God, she’s beautiful.

“Okay!” Kaya practically squeaks, nerves raising her voice into a range most comfortably heard by dogs. “So we’re going to do this now? Just like that?”

“Yes. But you have to promise to tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay. Do I need a safe word or something?”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “People don’t usually need safe words for oral sex. I mean, unless the woman is prone to using too much teeth.” I flinch at the thought.

“Okay. Never mind.” She folds her hands primly over her stomach and stares up at the ceiling. As if she’s about to have a pelvic exam and would rather be anywhere else, mentally.

Ouch.

“Wait. I’m going about this all wrong.” Kaya isn’t a gladiator groupie eager to strip and spread her legs the moment security lets her into my dressing room. She’s been through some shit, and she has some serious misconceptions about sex. “Come here.” I stand and reach down to offer her my hand, but when she tries to stand, she flinches the moment her foot hits the ground. “Strike that.” I swing her up into my arms, cradled with her head against my shoulder, then I turn, looking for some place to…

There’s a countertop across the small front room, and it’s surprisingly devoid of dust. The men who were here before must have wiped it down.

“Since you can’t stand…” I carry Kaya to the counter and set her down, and the height is perfect. She’s just a little taller than she would be on her feet, which is ideal for kissing.

“What are we doing?” Kaya whispers, her brow crinkled with worry.

“Starting from the beginning.” This is no longer just about a quick orgasm. She needs a full-on seduction.

I lean in, and her breathing quickens. My hands settle on her waist, then slide down her thighs to the hem of her pencil skirt, which is too narrow to let her spread her legs. To make room for me.

Holding her gaze, I slip my hands beneath the material, then I glide them up her thighs, hooking the hem of her skirt with my thumbs. Dragging it up slowly until the material bunches at her hips. Her legs are gorgeous. Toned and smooth, just like the rest of her. I want to squeeze her thighs. Hell, I want to lick them, and maybe take just a little nibble. But she already looks like she’s caught between rival urges to flee and to shove her tongue down my throat.

I need to tip that scale toward the latter.

Now that they’re free from the restrictions of her skirt, I slowly part her thighs and step between them until her breasts brush my chest through the layers of clothing separating us.

Kaya exhales. Her gaze holds mine and her mouth opens, just a little. I run the back of one hand down her cheek and over her neck, and her mouth opens a little more. She wants to be kissed. Not as a distraction in the greenroom so Graham can steal a weapon.

Kaya wants to be kissed. She wants to be treasured and savored. She deserves that moment, but from someone who hasn’t used her. Someone who’s better to her than I’ve been. But there are no other candidates at the moment, and I may not deserve this, but damn I want it.

I slide my hand behind her neck, my fingers reaching into the hair at the back of her skull. Then I kiss her—just a tug of her bottom lip at first, but then her hands land on my sides, and that’s all the encouragement I need.

I tilt my head and go deeper. Tasting her. Teasing her. Slowly. Pretending this is just for her. Kaya deserves to have someone adore her, but I want this as badly as she does. Maybe more.

My cock thickens, pressing awkwardly against the com device still stuffed into my pants, but I ignore the discomfort and edge back a bit, to keep from pressing my erection against her. Because it’s making demands she might mistake as mine.

Kaya makes a hungry little noise as my tongue strokes hers, and my hand tightens reflexively on her hip. She wants more, and damn, I want to give it to her.

I break away from the kiss and tug on her hair with my right hand, tilting her head back. Giving me access to the long, graceful line of her neck. Kaya moans in protest over the loss of my mouth, until my lips land on her throat, kissing a warm, damp trail toward her collarbone.

She grips the sides of my shirt like she’s hanging on. As if without that anchor, she might drown in the whirlpool of lust threatening to suck her under. But I make a poor anchor; I’m just as lost to that need as she is.

When my kisses collide with the collar of the shirt I’ve lent her, I pause to tug it up slowly, giving her plenty of time to object. Instead, she lifts her arms, helping me remove the material.

Free from the extra layer, her beautiful, full breasts peek out at me, nearly bursting from the confines of a lacy white bra, visible thanks to her missing buttons. As I lean in for another kiss, I slide my hands beneath the silky material of her blouse and settle them on her waist, reveling in the feel of her bare, warm flesh beneath my hands. But I go no further as I kiss her.

Sex is like ice cream. There are hundreds of sweet flavors, each perfect for a different occasion. Right now, Kaya’s flavor is slow and steamy. The contained heat of a banked coal. At least until she decides to dig it up and let it blaze.

We kiss. And kiss. And kiss.

I’d forgotten how much I like this part. The heart-pounding newness of it. The intimacy. The way kissing mimics sex with the thrusting and teasing, and that rush of endorphins, but with a tantalizing promise, rather the erotic commitment of full penetration.

When Kaya starts making hungry noises again, I slowly run my hands up her sides, avoiding her breasts, except for the brush of my palms along the sides. I slide my hands over her shoulders, then down her arms, pushing her torn blouse along until she maneuvers herself out of the sleeves on her own.

She’s nearly naked in front of me now, except for the lacy bra and what little her bunched up skirt still covers, and she’s magnificent. The swell of her hips. The graceful curve of her neck. The point of her chin. The way the little baby hairs at the edge of her forehead curl into loose ringlets, though the weight of her hair pulls the rest into gentle waves.

“Sebastian?” Kaya whispers, her forehead crinkled in worry, and I realize I’ve been staring. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You’re beautiful.”

“I’m a mess.” She starts to run her hands through her hair, but I capture them and lead them gently to my chest. This is an entirely selfish move. I like her hair disheveled, and I want her to touch me.

A shy smile flickers at the corners of her mouth, and I realize this is more than that. I don’t just want her to touch me. I want her to want to touch me. And the wonder shining in her eyes tells me that whatever David’s done to her didn’t include this kind of exploration. This free reign for her hands. For her imagination.

“You’re so…bumpy,” she whispers.

I laugh. “Not the most flattering of adjectives, but I’ll take it.”

“I mean…muscles.” Her fingers skim lightly over my pecs, and I resist the urge to lean into her touch. To demand more from her. To flex for her, like a preening asshole. “You’re…hard.” The odd innocence in her declaration tells me that’s not a euphemism. “I mean, I knew you would be, but…” Her finger brushes over my nipple, and my cock jerks against the counter. I want to pull her forward. Press myself against the juncture of her thighs and feel the heat bleeding through the flimsy material of her panties.

I haven’t seen them yet, but I know they’ll be no more substantial than her bra. In fact, I’m sure they’ll be a perfect match, because everything about Kaya is composed and coordinated. Polished and prim. Even the way she touches me, both hands systematically moving down my chest in symmetrical motions, as if there’s a correct way to do this, and she dare not skip a step.

Her fingers skim slowly down my abs toward my waistband, and my cock jumps again, reminding me that there’s something…

With a groan, I reach into my pants and remove her com device, then I set it on the counter, just out of her reach. Her gaze lands on it, until I take her hands and replace them on my stomach, exactly where they were before. Inches—yet somehow miles—from my cock.

She stares at the bulge in my pants. “I…um…”

“Don’t worry about that. Are you wet?”

Kaya’s gaze jumps back up to mine, her eyes wide and…shocked. “Sebastian!”

“It’s a normal—and super-hot—biological function.”

“I know, but you’re not supposed to talk about it.”

“Why not? You can see that I’m hard. To even the playing field, I think I should get to know whether you’re as horn—” I bite off the word at her horrified expression and rephrase. “—as turned on as I am.”

“Okay, that sounds equitable. So yes, I am very aroused right now. To a rather embarrassing degree.”

“Perfect.” I lift her again, but this time, rather than carrying her in a cradle hold, I seat her at my waist with one hand under her ass, then I wrap her left leg around my hips. Her other leg follows, as I knew it wound, and as I carry her back toward the mattress, I revel in the feel of her crotch against my stomach. At the damp heat.

God, I want to fuck her.

Instead, I lower her to the mattress, on the layer of towels, where she looks up at me with innocence in her eyes and lust burning in her cheeks. It’s everything I can do not to rip her clothes off, settle between her legs, and sink into her. She’s aroused enough that I think she’d let me.

But that’s not what I promised her.

“May I take off the rest of your clothes?”

She blinks. “I guess that’s necessary?”

I shrug. “You can leave your bra on, if you want, but I think you’d get more out of this without it.”

“Okay.” Kaya props herself up on her elbows, still mostly reclined, so that I can slide my hands beneath her and unhook her bra. With the tension released, her breasts burst free of the cups, and as she lies down again, she lifts the material and neatly folds the bra in half before setting it aside.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” I didn’t mean to say that, and the fact that the words spilled out all on their own doesn’t speak well for my self-control right now. For the first time since I was a teenager, I’m afraid I might actually spill in my pants.

Get it together, Seb. I’ll just show her a good time—the best time—then, when she falls asleep, I can go outside and take care of my own needs. A skill I’ve rediscovered since my incarceration.

Kaya presses her lips together, as if she’d like to object. As if someone’s told her it’s arrogant to agree with a compliment, but rude to protest one. Does she live her whole life like that? Torn between conflicting rules and impulses? Doesn’t she ever just…let go? Embrace whatever she’s feeling? Maybe she’s never felt anything strong enough to break through her barriers. To shut down her brain and wake up her body.

Challenge accepted.

There’s a zipper on the side of her skirt, and it gives me a crazy amount of pleasure to pull it down slowly. Listening to the whisper of the metal teeth as they disengage. I feel like it’s Christmas morning, and someone’s just handed me a very pretty package.

I want to rip it open. I want to tear through the neat bow and the colorful wrapping just to get to the good part.

But I won’t.

I slide her skirt off, leaving her panties in place so I can undress her one layer at a time. Because the way she’s looking at me—half-nervous, half-excited—makes me want to draw out this moment.

Her panties are in fact a perfect match for her bra, I note as I slide them from her hips, revealing a perfectly groomed, narrow strip of dark hair. Kaya’s breath hitches as the material skims down her legs, then disappears, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t part her thighs and let me in.

“Is this still what you want?” I ask her. She nods eagerly. And slowly, she lets her legs fall open, her muscles trembling as she invites me in. Then she folds her hands over her stomach again, as if she isn’t sure what to do with them.

I settle between her thighs, and for the first time I let her feel my erection, against her stomach, because there’s no way to avoid that as I lean down to kiss her. She groans into my mouth, and my cock twitches between us. Then I leave her lips and begin a trail of soft kisses down her throat and over her collarbone until I reach the peak of her right breast. Her nipples are already pebbled. I take one into my mouth and suck gently while I circle the other with one finger.

Kaya groans, and the peaks tighten even further.

Painfully hard now, I let my hand wander slowly down her stomach while I tease her nipple with my tongue, and by the time I slide over her mound and venture lower, Kaya is arching her hips up to meet me.

She’s ready. And oh, god, is she wet. Her most intimate parts are plump and swollen with need. With her nipple still in my mouth, I circle her clit, avoiding direct contact and her groan carries a sense of urgency.

“Sebastian,” she breathes, and I know what she wants. Normally, I might make her ask for it, because I like to hear the words. But I owe Kaya.

Yet it’s more than that.

I desperately want to please her. I want to show her what this is supposed to be like. I want to banish David from her memory—killing him there, at least, since I can’t do it physically—and make her scream with ecstasy.

I want to fall asleep with her taste on my lips and the memory of her moans echoing like an erotic lullaby in my dreams.

I kiss my way down her stomach, and suddenly I’m as done with foreplay as she is. I give her clit a long, slow lick and she squirms beneath me. Her hands fist in the towel laid out beneath her and I ignore the ache in my painfully stiff cock as I lick her again, from the bottom of her opening all the way to her clit.

My hands slide beneath her thighs, gripping her firm ass, and I tilt her up as I create a rhythm, stroking the bundle of nerves that is the key to her pleasure.

One of the keys, anyway.

Her legs tremble against my face and I bring my hands from beneath her to grip her thighs, indulging in a gentle squeeze that is all for me. She opens wider for me, and that very act—feeling her spread out beneath me—is almost enough to bring me to the edge, with nothing more than her thighs in my hands, her clit beneath my tongue, and the friction of the mattress against my cock through the layers of my own clothing.

I rise for a minute, breathing deeply. Trying to push back my own need, and Kaya groans over the loss of my tongue. I look up to see that her lower lip is trapped between her teeth, her head tossed back, and her face is flushed with need.

Encouraged by her reaction, I lick her clit again, then I alternate between flicking the tip of my tongue over it and sucking on it gently. Kaya’s hips jerk up, seeking more. She’s tantalizingly close. So I run one finger around her opening, letting her know that it’s there. Then I slide it inside her and press upward.

“Oh!” Kaya screams. Her hips buck and she comes, hard, the instant my finger grazes the little rough patch inside her. “Oh my god!”

I keep licking and sucking, stroking with one finger, desperate to drag out her pleasure. To wring every drop of it from her. To show her that I’m more than the asshole who took her hostage. Though I can’t deny that I’m that guy too.

When she stops spasming around my finger, I pull out and sit up, so I can look down at her. Kaya’s eyes are still closed. Her mouth is open, her lower lip damp and swollen from being tucked between her teeth. When she finally looks up at me, her eyes are glazed and half-focused.

“You have a very responsive g-spot,” I tell her.

Kaya’s cheeks flush bright red. “Who knew?” Then she bursts into laughter. “That was amazing.”

“I know.”

“Thank you.”

I frown. “Please don’t thank me. Not while I’m holding you hostage.”

Her brows furrow. “Then stop holding me hostage.”

“Kaya—”

“She doesn’t need you, Sebastian. Sylvie doesn’t need you. She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and she’s not alone. She has Graham.”

What the hell is she talking about? “Graham’s dead. We both saw him die.”

“That wasn’t real, Sebastian! I…I told you I did everything I could for your sister.”

“What does that mean? What did you do?”

“Sylvie asked me for a favor.” She looks nervous, as if I’m going to rat her out. “I made sure that she got a stun pistol set to knock him out for hours, rather than kill him. Unless something went wrong, he’s out here with her. He has been all along.”

“Holy shit.” I stand and walk away from the mattress, but I’m not seeing the room around me. I back there, in the greenroom, watching my sister shoot the love of her life on the screen. Seeing the agony on her face. “Are you serious?” I spin and study Kaya. Searching for any evidence of a lie. “Is this real?”

“Yes! If everything went as planned, Graham has your sister’s back, Sebastian. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Why in the living fuck didn’t you tell me?” I demand, and I only realize I’m shouting when she flinches. “I’m sorry. I…Kaya, why are you just now telling me this?”

“Because I broke the law! Because there are cameras everywhere in zone one, and if anyone found out, I could have gone to prison! I could still go to prison if anyone finds out he’s alive!” She takes a deep breath, and I can only stare at her, trying to process. “I started to tell you yesterday, on the yacht, but there were too many people around. And after that…well, I got distracted by the fact that you crashed the ship and took me hostage.”

Well, I guess that’s understandable.

“But Sebastian, the point is that Sylvie’s not alone. She has Graham. If anyone can make it out here, they can.”

Except that isn’t the point. “They shouldn’t have to make it out here. I don’t want my sister out here at all—”

“She doesn’t need you,” Kaya insists. “But I do.” She reaches for her underwear, then shoves her feet through the holes. “I don’t belong out here. I’m nothing but a stone weighing you down. Holding you back. I need you to get me out of here, Sebastian. Please.”

I can’t. God, I want to, but I can’t. I will never have another chance to get us off this planet, and I can’t give that up. Not even for Kaya.

I stand and gather her clothes, then drop them on her lap. “Go to sleep, Kaya.” Then I storm out of the building. Hating myself.