Rafe didn’t plan on letting Emma out of his sight. She drew too much attention. Bad attention—at least for her. But when she entered the clothing store, he knew he had a few moments to spare to see exactly what Huegga wanted to show him.

An old acquaintance, Huegga owned an antiquities shop where he dealt in rare items. Rafe had corresponded with him before when he visited and via messages. As a pirate who often needed to offload items of questionable origin, Rafe knew a fair share of antique dealers. He kept hoping one of them would stumble across a clue—and not charge him too much. Although, if they did try to cheat him, he’d just steal what he wanted. He didn’t like to let a thing like locks stand in his way.

“What is it you’ve found?” he asked as Huegga led him inside the shop. Only the dimmest of light illuminated the space. Relics from the past always looked more mysterious in the dark.

“I am not sure what to call it, but it made me think of you, so I locked it away.”

A tingle of excitement threaded through him. He made sure it didn’t show. “How did you come across this object?”

“It was part of the lot of items I claimed at auction when they cleared out Gil’s place.” Gil being an antiquities dealer who’d met an untimely demise—at the end of a knife.

“You’re not keeping it in the front?” Surprising since items kept hidden couldn’t attract buyers.

“I am not sure of its worth. I wanted a second opinion before setting a price.”

In other words, Huegga needed the right buyer willing to part with credits. Given Rafe had already parted with a good sum for news and rumors, he wasn’t inclined to spend more.

Until he saw it, and his decision was cemented the moment he held the warm fragment.

It’s one of the pieces I’ve been looking for.

“Who else knows you have this?”

“No one.” Huegga shook his head. “But the moment I saw it, I thought of you.”

Of course he had. The symbol carved on the metal fragment was one Rafe knew well, and he wondered if the jagged edges would match any of those on the pieces he’d already found.

“Did any notes come with it? Do you have any idea where Gil might have found the fragment?” A clue would be nice since no one seemed to know their true origin.

Thus far, the pieces he’d acquired appeared in the hands of dealers, and one rare piece was located in a museum on Earth—was being the key word. It now hid onboard the Annabelle.

Huegga shook his head, his tight braids whipping. “It was wrapped in leather and at the bottom of a box of junk. I almost threw it out.”

“How much for the piece?”

A calculating look appeared in Huegga’s eye. “One million credits.”

Rafe snorted and dropped the metal shard. “For a piece of scrap metal? Keep it. I simply wanted it as a knickknack for my mother.”

The haggle began, ending somewhere higher than Rafe wanted, but he wasn’t leaving this shop without it. The fragment might be useless to Huegga, but to Rafe—who had been looking—it was a part of the puzzle he’d set out to solve.

“Unhand me!” The scream and yelled words from outside on the street made him grin. At last, someone had chosen to challenge him. Time to wrap up his business here. He tapped at his arm, activating his embedded chip that handled banking affairs. “The credits have been transferred.”

A glance at his watch and Huegga nodded. “Received. Here is your purchase.”

Rafe rewrapped the fragment and tucked it into his shirt. He wore a harness under the fabric with another sheath for a knife and a pouch for other things. Nimble fingers and tentacles were a problem in the space stations. “If you come across any more items like this one”—he patted his hidden pocket—“send me a message. Me alone. I’d like to surprise my mother on her birthday.” A lie he knew Huegga didn’t believe, but, again, part of the game they both played.

Turning on his heel, Rafe strode out of the shop, ducking under the low doorframe not meant for men his height. He was just in time to see a very tall being, nine feet at least, toss Emma onto its beefy shoulder. Not that she went willingly. She kicked and flailed with her fists. Rather ineffectually, he might add. The Syklopp probably didn’t feel a thing.

As he moved toward them, Rafe bellowed, “What are you doing with my cousin?”

Pivoting to face him, the Syklopp focused his one eye on him. “Smells good. Make roast.”

Human males had a problem with blood draining from their brains to their dicks. But with the Syklopp, they got stupid when they got hungry. “Not with her you aren’t. She doesn’t belong to you.”

“I want.”

“She’s not for sale.”

“No buy. Take. In the road. Free.”

Rafe really would have to do something about her lack of visible brand. He’d hoped the fact that she traveled with him would indicate her off-limits status. Apparently not. She needed either to get a tattoo delineating her ownership status or a collar. He couldn’t wait to have that argument with her.

“Hey, wench, wanna bare an ass cheek so I can put this brand on you?”

He could just imagine the slap. As for getting a collar around her neck, he would prefer to give her a creamy necklace. Later. First, he had to save her rump roast.

“She is not free because she belongs to me. She’s family. And much as she might drive me a little crazy, I can’t allow you to eat her.” The only one who would do any eating was him. Eventually. He’d wear down her resistance at one point.

“Me take.”

“No, you aren’t.”

There were a few immutable facts on space stations. One, most things had a price. Two, some people still preferred to steal. And three, no law would stop someone from punishing a thief who’d taken his property.

Drawing his knives from his boots, Rafe jogged toward the Syklopp, hands by his sides, blades pointing down.

The Syklopp grinned. “More dinner.”

Now some people might wonder how a simple-minded race like the Syklopps ever made it to space. Simple. The males might be dumber than rocks—their heads hard as stone too—but their females were smart. Alas, whatever female owned this brute wasn’t with him, so it was a tad too dumb to realize he’d pissed off the wrong man.

Rafe might be only two-thirds its size, but he was deadly. His rapid run brought him within paces, but he wasn’t about to fight hand-to-hand, or fairly. Feinting to the side, he leaped into the air and landed atop a table. Bent his knees and leaped again.

The lumbering ogre-ish male swung a meaty fist at Rafe, but he’d already ducked under it. His knives flashed, and the coppery smell of blood, with a hint of something sulfuric, filled the air.

The Syklopp looked down at its chest, bleeding profusely, the symbol Rafe had cut into it deep enough to scar, but not kill.

“Put the girl down, or my next strike won’t be so gentle,” Rafe warned, his voice deep and cold.

“Do as he says, imbecile.” The cuff in the back of the Syklopp’s head rocked it as his mistress, another towering specimen, took him to task. “I said to buy me some dinner. Not take a Rhomanii girl off the street.” The female Syklopp, resplendent and tall in her bright yellow dress and towering headpiece, turned her one-eyed gaze his way. “Apologies. It is my son’s first foray into the world. And his last if he doesn’t listen better.”

“No harm done.” Especially since Emma was back on her feet, looking annoyed as hell but not in the least injured.

“Come, you fool. Let us tend your wound and use it as a reminder next time to do as I say.” Issuing a non-stop harangue that had the younger Syklopp’s head hanging, the pair tromped off.

The wench glared at their retreating backs. “That was rude.”

“Not really. That kind of thing happens all the time.”

“Was he seriously going to eat me?”

“Roasted over a fire and sprinkled with spices. Yes.”

She shuddered. “Thanks for coming along when you did.”

“Don’t thank me. Any captain would have done the same.”

“Let me guess, because of your reputation.”

He smiled. “You’re beginning to understand. I see you found clothing.” He perused her new ensemble, which she’d chosen with care. She’d not opted for anything too provocative or womanly, instead choosing sturdy, if form-fitting, cargo pants and a plain cotton T-shirt. She’d also chosen to fetter her lovely breasts in a practical sports bra. What a shame. He did so enjoy a little nipple action. It was the reason he had Annabelle turn down the temperature on the ship.

“Thanks again for the clothes. The guy said the rest of it would be delivered to the ship?” she said on a querying note.

“It will be. Commerce is taken very seriously on the way stations. Those who cheat customers don’t stay in business for very long.” Usually because their body was drifting in space.

“How do they get the stuff there? I wouldn’t have thought you’d let anyone onto the ship while you’re not there.”

“No one goes aboard. There are messenger crews, whose only task is to deliver goods and parts. They use specialized thruster machines. They anchor merchandise orders by the bay doors. Annabelle then uses the onboard crane to drag them in.”

“That seems like a trusting system.”

“Not really. The ship can protect itself from invaders.”

“What if someone hacks your ship’s computer though?”

“Then I shall mock Annabelle mercilessly for letting anyone past her security systems. Here we are.” During their talk, he’d steered them away from the marketplace. He stopped before a metal door. He knew she wouldn’t recognize the symbol carved on its surface, so he drew her attention to it. “If ever you are in need of a place to rest, a place that is neutral and free of ambush, look for this.” He traced the intricate swirl with the slash across the middle. “Every way station and civilized planet has at least one. Think of it as a hotel and embassy rolled into one.”

He placed his palm on the screen beside it. It analyzed his print, his DNA, and probably did a credit check. While the Kaupo establishments never turned anyone away who asked for aid, their accommodations did have a ranking system. The lowest level was free, but it came with little to no amenities. If a male wanted a real bed, private bathing facilities, and food, then he could request it and receive it for a price, a price he could pay.

Choke on that, Uncle. You always accused me of not working hard enough for what I had. Accused me of relying on the family money and being a leech. He’d proved his uncle wrong. When Rafe left, he’d taken nothing with him. Not even the family name.

As a bastard son, he was considered an embarrassment. His father was a stranger, a traveler passing through who went by the name Abaddon. First or last, no one knew for sure, but this Abaddon had left his mark behind in the son he begat.

The family called Rafe’s conception rape, but in private, his mother admitted it was seduction, a seduction she couldn’t resist, despite the shame she knew it would bring.

“He had something about him, something other worldly. As if he’d seen great things. And when he turned his gaze on me, I couldn’t resist.” Even years later, his mother never failed to smile when she recalled Rafe’s father. Rafe, however, cursed the man who’d left and ensured his life was a living hell.

Luckily, Rafe’s sisters didn’t bear the stigma of his ignoble birth, the family arranging a marriage for his mother, smoothing over her shame with a dowry of credits. But that marriage didn’t erase the fact of Rafe’s existence.

When he grew tired of his uncle’s barbs and thinly veiled threats, born of a hatred he could not grasp, Rafe left. Left despite the tears of his mother, and in the process, he severed all ties. As he set course on a new path, his own path. He chose a name for himself, Aba’ddon, and while he might be the only Aba’ddon in existence—unless his father still lived—he made sure people knew it. Hoped one day to see recognition in someone’s eyes, somewhere. Surely his father had left a trace? If so, he’d yet to find it.

But he kept trying as he traveled the galaxies in search of answers.

Under that name he acquired not only prestige and infamy, but also wealth, enough wealth that the Kaupo sanctuaries kept his preferences saved in his file. When the exterior door of the hotel opened, they weren’t ushered into the lower level with pallets on the floor and a plain broth for sustenance. Instead, he and Emma were met with the gleaming interior of an elevator cab.

Stepping in, Rafe leaned against the wall and smiled when he noted Emma reluctant to follow. “The walls won’t bite.”

“I’m more worried about you.”

He laughed. “You should be.” Not reassuring words in the least, but they made her snort. “Get in before it takes off without you.” The elevator would never so rudely treat a guest, but she didn’t know that.

“I don’t know how Alice dove into that rabbit hole. Each time I come across one, I want to run away.”

“But you won’t run because, at heart, I think you’re an adrenaline junkie.”

“Am not.”

“Is your heart racing?”

“Probably because the air’s a little thin.”

“Are your panties wet?”

“I might have peed myself when that one-eyed dude grabbed me.”

“Why don’t you just admit this all excites you?”

“It does. But I can’t figure out why because, at the same time, I want to throw up, pee my pants, and huddle in a ball.”

“Exaggerations. That is what fear would have you do. You’ve the spirit of a traveler.”

“Which means?”

“You won’t let fear control you. So stop procrastinating and get your ass in here.”

“Bully,” she accused him, and yet she stepped into the elevator. She stared suspiciously around as the door slid shut behind her and the cab moved. “It feels like we were just swallowed by a space-age coffin.”

“Less coffin, more bullet to our destination.” Indeed, in the time it took her to make that observation, they arrived. The door slid open to reveal opulence. Nothing but the best for Ra’fhai Aba’ddon, outcast son of the Zyngary. An outcast who’d made a name for himself and never looked back, despite the many pleas from his mother.

Given Rafe had stayed at this hotel before and his information was on file, they didn’t have to do something so trite as check in. As soon as he’d placed his hand on the scanner outside, the Kaupo knew his preference. It was the same everywhere he went. A large room at the top of the inner meteoroid, the curved window offering a panoramic view of the marketplace and other buildings within the dome.

It also possessed a giant bed adorned with fluffy pillows, lush carpeting for the feet, and, best of all, a bathing chamber, which, if used—especially the water portion—would cost him a fortune.

So worth it.

Much as it galled Rafe to admit, every so often he wanted a good cleansing. A real bath, where he could sink under the surface of the liquid and truly feel the dirt on his skin lift. He’d gotten used to daily water cleansing during his time on Earth. The luxury of regular hot showers had spoiled him.

“This is our room?” Emma gaped. “It’s so nice. Finally.”

“Finally? You could say thank you.”

She whirled to face him. “This one time. Thank you. This is awesome.”

Emma didn’t waste any more time. She kicked off her boots and stomped around on the carpet moaning. “It’s so soft. I’d forgotten what it feels like to walk around barefoot.”

“Enjoy it while you can. We’re only here for the night.”

“How can you tell it’s night?”

He tapped his head. “This knows.” Given each planet had its own system for time and it differed, most races had their own methods. But he had to admit, the Earth’s cycle very closely matched the ideal for his body’s needs. “You can have a bath over there.” He pointed to the open spot in the wall. “There will be soaps and lotions, as well as towels in there. Given we’re in the luxury suite, there’s also a spot you can toss your clothes in for a clean. Unless you’d like to keep wearing that pungent body odor cologne your amateur chef from the market left you with.”

“Do all aliens reek?” She held up a hand. “And before you tell me not to use that word, too bad. It’s just the two of us, and I don’t know what else to call them. I mean icky blob dude, raisin boob, and hairless yeti somehow seems ruder.”

“Raisin boob?” He snickered. “Do a search when you get a chance on the Gonnfl race.” Because they only looked shriveled until they got aroused. Then they inflated and became quite rotund. And bouncy. Having sex with one in a zero-gravity zone was considered quite the sport. Fortunes were won and lost on whether a male could pin an inflated Gonnfl female or whether her curves would fling him off.

“A search where? Your ship computer is woefully lacking.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that.”

“Or she’ll what? Zap the handrail when I use the stairs? Wobble the ship so I stumble and then claim an etheric wave made her do it?”

“I think my ship might need some maintenance.”

“Did you order some?” she asked, wandering into the large bathroom.

He couldn’t help but lean and peek inside to see what she’d do. Strip if he was lucky.

“Not here. AI systems and a ship computer in general should only be trusted to professionals who cannot be bribed.” Anybody else was asking for a virus that would turn the system against a captain and allow pirates to take over. He spoke from experience—as the pirate.

“So we get to travel a while longer with your PMSing ship. Awesome!”

That sounded a lot more enthusiastic than it should have. Probably because Emma had located the tub.

She wasted no time removing her clothes. Not the sexiest dishabille he’d ever seen, with the pants getting shoved down with little finesse, but hey, the wench was finally naked.

He ogled her body, even if he’d seen it before. Not his fault the onboard cameras caught her in the buff when she performed her cleansing ritual. A gentleman would look away. He kept an eye on her in case trouble attacked.

Snort. He purposely spied on her in those cameras, and he leered. It was expected.

Just like he leered now, his own frame completely naked as he strolled into the bathroom and tossed his clothes in the refreshing unit along with hers.

As he straightened, he caught the heated sting of her glare.

She pinned him with a gaze from where she sat in the tub. “Hold on there, pirate. Exactly what do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He rolled his eyes with clear mockery. “I’m going to take a bath.”

“You are?” Emma made an exaggerated act of looking around and then fixed her gaze on him. “And just exactly where do you think you’re going to bathe? In case you hadn’t noticed, there is only one bathtub and I’m currently in it.”

“I know. My lucky day.”

“Turn right around and march out. I was here first.”

“Have you seen the size of the tub? There is definitely room for two.” A shame, a smaller tub would have put her in his lap much sooner. “Haven’t you heard the expression sharing is caring?”

“Can’t you just wait your turn?”

“Considering I’m the captain, and I’m the one paying for this, I should be going first. So let me ask you, would you prefer to share, or do you want to wait until I am done?”

She glared at him. “I really don’t like you.”

“I know. I’m okay with that.” Because he didn’t want to like her either. He figured, if he could just have sex with her, then maybe, just maybe, he’d manage to better control this crazy interest he had in Emma. Buying her clothes. Agreeing to share the first bath.

No more. He was captain. A fierce pirate…

“At the most, I’d say you’re a clever smuggler.”

He blinked at her. Dammit. He’d spoken aloud, and she’d replied. “A smuggler. I’ll take it. Now move over unless you’re planning to sit in my lap, which I’m going to put out there is totally fine with me.”

One last dark look—with a hint of heat—and Emma scooted across the built-in bench to the far side of the rather large tub.

He slipped into the tub and intentionally splashed her.

“Blurg!”

He laughed as he flipped his head back and sent droplets of water flying. “So, wench—Glarg.” He sputtered as Emma sloshed him. His turn to glare at her through a squinted eye. “That wasn’t very nice,” he said.

“I know.” Smirk. “Poor pirate, did you get water in your mouth? I don’t know how that happened.” She adopted an innocent look that failed considering the wicked glint in her eye.

Such a wicked girl. And such a tease.

She was sunk low enough that only the swath of skin just under her neck showed. Her beautiful breasts were hidden under the water, which given it wasn’t 100 percent water, meant it was opaque. Everything under the surface was blocked from view. A shame. He would have liked to ogle those perfect handfuls.

A lazy finger dragged through the water. Emma pretended great interest in watching the little wave current she created. “How come the water’s not clear? And it’s got a smell to it, a nice one, but still, are you sure this will get me clean? I’m not going to come out of it looking blue, am I?”

“Your skin coloring is safe. While the water appears tinted, it’s not the kind that acts like a dye. This is most likely meteor ice, melted for use on the station with a good number of additives. In space, there is only one thing more deadly than a hole in your ship or a dead power core—bacteria. The most benign microorganism can have devastating effects.”

“It’s happened before?” she asked.

“Numerous times. Especially in the less-charted reaches, where one never knows what he might encounter.”

“Doesn’t the ship decontaminate you and like check you over for any bugs?”

“Most of the time. However, some microbes can’t be picked up by our computers or diagnostic systems. So a blanket decontamination is performed, especially on things like water, which is in high demand and, thus, being recycled constantly.

A grimace pulled her lips as she lifted the water and let it run through her fingers. “Mentioning the fact that this water is used is not exactly reassuring. But it sure does feel good.”

She ducked under the surface and stayed under a few moments. When she emerged, her hair was slicked back from her head, and she shook it out, her eyes shut.

Rafe took a moment to just admire the sleekness of her beauty. The water pearled on her skin, leaving it looking moist. Tempting.

He had an urge to lick the hollow at the base of her throat. To suck the moisture from that delicate spot. Even better, he’d like to have her sit with her legs around his shoulders so he could lap the moisture from another place.

That would please him most.

Probably sensing his stare, she opened her eyes, the wet lashes clinging together in a dark mesh. She smiled at him, a radiant smile that hit him with its beauty. “This is amazing. I haven’t felt this clean in…” She hesitated then laughed. “I guess since we left Earth. Earth.” She scrunched her nose. “It’s weird. Once upon a time, saying or referring to my old life as ‘when I was on Earth’ would’ve seemed so strange. Now”—she waved her hand and gestured to the room—“here I am, on a space station having a meteor bath, and it seems so real, while my life back on Earth seems so far away. Almost like a mirage.”

“It’s best that you forget it. That life is forbidden to you. From now on, you’ll be a roamer like me and the rest of the Rhomanii.” What he didn’t remind her of was the fact that very few planets took settlers. Most of them had existing populations strictly governed by the laws put into place. Outsiders, alien entities that weren’t born on the planet or that couldn’t provide something salient, weren’t welcome. Breeding females were the only exception.

Everyone likes a woman with good hips and strong genes.

However, certain expectations were placed on breeding females. Virginity being the first one, and he highly doubted, no matter how much she turned him down, that Emma was a virgin.

And remembering and reminding himself that she wasn’t a virgin once again made him wonder why the hell she kept rejecting him. It just didn’t make any sense.

Being a stubborn man, and a horny one, he just couldn’t let it sit. “So here we are. Clean. Alive. And in possession of a bed. If you ask me, the universe is telling us something.”

“You’re right; it is.” Spoken in a husky murmur. She leaned forward. Her lips parted. Her gaze remained intent on his. “It’s telling us we should get a good night’s sleep.” She leaned back, a pleased smile on her face.

How he tired of her teasing him. Especially since he knew she wanted him.

So why am I waiting? I am a pirate. And what I want, I take.

Decision made, it took him not even a breath to launch himself across that giant tub. Emma didn’t have time to react, nor did she have time to slip away. She could attempt only a sound of feeble protest that he swallowed as his lips captured hers in a torrid kiss.

It wasn’t their first kiss, although it had been a while since the last one. He might as well have never touched her before because the simple touch of her flesh to his proved just as fiery as the first time. An intense hunger consumed him. He wanted to devour her, to inhale her sweet exhalations, breathe into her, to sink himself in her silky heat. He didn’t hide this hunger in his kiss, and he half expected her to push him away, perhaps curse him out, maybe even bite him again.

What he didn’t expect was for her arms to wrap around his neck. For her to draw him close. To accept him with a soft sigh.

What happened? Why the change of mind? Was it the bath? The real food, the clothes? Did he care?

Despite her many protests, at least she succumbed to the natural need for intimacy, the closeness achieved only with another person. Skin to naked skin, lip to lip, they couldn’t get any closer than this. Their every inhalation and exhalation was a mixture of them both. He couldn’t have said where one started and one ended.

She was the one to let her hands roam first, letting go of his hair that she might trail her fingers down the back of his neck before spreading them across his shoulders. Her lips parted, and the tip of her tongue teased, coaxing its way into his mouth. This kind of intimate kissing wasn’t something often done outside of mated pairings. But how he enjoyed it, the sensual slide of tongue on tongue.

Her hands strayed from his shoulders and stroked down his biceps. He gave them an extra flex, and she rewarded him with squeeze. While she sat on the bench, he was braced in front of her, hands framing her and gripping the edge of the tub. The lower half of his body free floated in the buoyant liquid.

Her stroking reached his wrists and briefly left his skin, only to resume their tracing along his rib cage.

Rafe sucked in a breath. Would she really keep exploring lower? When he’d dived across the pool, he’d not expected things to go further than a kiss to regain his manhood. Now he found himself captivated, wondering just how far she would go.

All the way, wench. Let this be the day I finally get you out of my system.

He wouldn’t hold his breath, though. At any moment, he expected her to flee from him protesting. At any moment, he expected interruption. It was what had always happened before.

Before. Not this time.

Emma didn’t push him away. He wasn’t entirely sure if he would’ve gone if she had. He doubted he could walk away and not go insane.

Her kisses were like drugs, bringing a sexual languor to his limbs and heat to his blood. He couldn’t help but want more. And by more he didn’t just mean tasting her lips.

Given the wanton wandering of her hands, he thought it past time his own began an exploration. He kept one hand on the side of the tub to brace himself, but the other one he had plans for.

With just the tip of his finger, he traced the line of her cheek. Her skin felt soft, so very soft and silky. Not chopped by the winds. Not dry from a lack of moisture often seen by those residing on the arid planets. Fresh. Smooth. Silky. Those qualities were what made her valuable. It wasn’t something he could hide. Everyone saw it when they looked at her.

Saw a shapely woman with skin unmarked by the hardships of living in space. It wasn’t to say the Rhomanii were all leathery husks. On the contrary, the females of his kind cared for themselves. However, he’d never truly touched a female like himself. Women were chaste and protected. There was no sex before marriage. Virginity was highly prized. In his culture, chaperoning went great lengths to ensure women remained pure until joined to a man.

Those kinds of women didn’t exist for Rafe. He was a bastard. An outcast. No proper Rhomanii girl would have him.

But who needed them when he had his Earth wench?

His hand left the softness of her cheek and trailed down the column of her neck. She arched her head, an open invitation for his lips to follow. He obliged and let his lips trail a decadent blaze of kisses down the smooth skin and over the fluttering pulse of a rapidly beating heart. She couldn’t hide her excitement from him. He kept going until he finally got to kiss and taste that hollow at the base of her neck, the one that tempted him.

The exploration begun, he found he couldn’t stop. His lips kept moving, as did his hand. It traced its way down and under the water to cup the swell of her breast.

I was right. It’s a perfect handful. More than enough to cup and squeeze. He brushed his thumb over the peak of her breast, and a spurt of masculine pleasure thickened his shaft as the nipple hardened into a point.

She uttered a small gasp and arched into his hand. How responsive she seemed.

He let his body settle to the bottom of the tub until his knees touched and he could kneel. It made him shorter than her, but given he wanted to use both hands to grasp, acceptable in this instance.

As his hands came forward under the water to grasp at her breasts, palming a full one each, her own hands flattened against his pectorals. She rubbed the many ridges on his chest, paying special attention to his nipples, which weren’t the erogenous zone she expected.

“I wouldn’t bother. Those aren’t real,” he whispered.

He probably shouldn’t have said anything because that certainly got her attention, and she stopped rubbing. “What did you say?”

“I said they aren’t real. In order to fit in with your people on Earth, I had to have certain outward modifications made. One of them was the addition of nipples.”

“You mean these are fake boobs?” She giggled, even as her nails pinched one tight. “So if I suck them, you won’t feel a thing?” she asked, a mischievous lilt to her query.

“Wench, I don't think there’s any part of my body that you could touch that I wouldn’t feel.” Having her so near was enough to excite him. His skin vibrated, and a certain part of him ached fiercely as it jutted from his body.

As if his thought of it brought it to her mind, one of her hands closed around his length, and she gave it a firm tug.

“So is this real or fake?” she asked.

“All real, wench. All me,” he purred against her lips, going in for another kiss. It was a kiss turned hot and torrid, aided by the fact that her hand began to slide back and forth on his shaft, squeezing him. Pumping him.

His own hands were just as busy. They still held plump breasts. His thumbs teased and stroked over her erect nubs. But he wanted to do more than just tease them with his fingers. He wanted to taste them. Thing was they were under water, and he didn’t want to drown.

Why struggle to fornicate in the tub when there is a perfectly soft mattress waiting for us? But would changing locale ruin the mood? Snorting and sputtering water definitely would.

“Am I going to regret asking you if we should take this to the bed?”

Eyes at half-mast regarded him, and her lips quirked in a half-smile. “The only thing you’re going to regret is not finishing the job.”

Rafe lifted her from the water, dripping, slippery bodies leaving a wet trail on the floor as he took long strides to the bed. As if he cared he made a mess. He wasn’t about to stop now.

He tossed her onto the soft surface of the mattress and covered her nude body immediately with his. He didn’t want to give her a chance to change her mind. Not now. Not when he burned for her.

Hunger unabated, he indulged in a heated kiss, reveling in how she panted into his mouth, taking pride in her swollen lips, lips swollen from his caresses. They gleamed bright and red, berries he wanted to taste over and over.

Her hands fluttered against him, grabbing at his shoulders, then his hair, then his arms, as if unable to decide. He would decide for both of them.

Being a man who liked to be in control, he took hold of her hands and pushed them over her head, trapping them. She didn’t seem to mind his manhandling, although her body did arch under his, more an invitation he touch than for escape.

His lips burned a path down her skin. At least it felt like a burn to him. Every part of him was on fire. Aroused and in need. In need of this woman.

At last, Rafe, no longer fearing he might drown, could latch his lips onto the erect nub of her nipple. She cried out and her back arched. He enjoyed the pressure she put against him. If she wanted more of him, then he would oblige. He let his own body press even more heavily down upon hers, pinning her in place.

She foiled him, though, by spreading her thighs and letting him fall between them that she might loosely wrap her legs around his shanks.

The decadent invitation pleased him, but he wasn’t done with her breasts yet. He sucked at her tender flesh, drawing it into his mouth, letting his teeth graze the soft skin. He licked and teased. Then switched sides and repeated the sensual torture.

Soft sounds escaped her lips. Soft cries of pleasure. Moans of delight. The occasional whispered word. “Yes.” “More.” “Oh God.”

Rafe noted he wasn’t quiet either. He noted his pleasure out loud, uttering groans and even a soft hum as he enjoyed the taste and feel of her.

But if there was one thing he longed to taste more than her breasts, it was the treasure between her thighs. Again, a treat not often indulged in. Most women didn’t inspire him to go down… Selfish perhaps, given he certainly loved some oral action on his parts.

He loved to have a pair of lips wrapped around his shaft. Oddly enough, of late, whenever he pictured lips around his cock, only one pair came to mind.

His lips led the way as he left her splendid breasts and kissed down her rib cage and over the rounded swell of her belly. He reached the hair of her mound, the springy curls soft and natural. He rubbed his face against her, which drew a giggle.

When he blew hotly on the flesh trembling just below, the giggle stopped dead.

He had released her hands during his descent. Thus, his own were free to push her legs up that he might nestle between her thighs. He let her legs rest heavily against his shoulders.

“Brave man,” she said, softly squeezing his head.

“I like to live dangerously,” he quipped, blowing the hot words on her sex.

“Oh.” Her head tilted back as she arched, a shiver coursing through her.

The smell of her enticed. Teased. He couldn’t resist. Why should he? His tongue darted for a taste. Sweet ambrosia. With his tongue, he parted her plump lips, opening the pink petals that thought to hide his treasure.

My treasure.

She melted sweetly on his tongue, her evident pleasure driving his own arousal to new heights. She chose to show her enjoyment in a painful, yet wonderful fashion. Her fingers twined in his hair, pulling and tugging, none too gentle. But he didn’t mind. How could he when it meant he caused the pleasure behind it?

And giving her pleasure was oddly important to him.

Her soft cries and moans of encouragement spurred him. Despite the sweetness, his tongue left the sweet folds of her sex to flick across her clitoris. Her love button was swollen and sensitive. He tugged at it with his lips, and her moans reached a higher pitch. The tautness in her body screamed she was ready.

It was time. He thrust his fingers into her, feeling her sex clench tight around them. Scorching heat. Tight and welcoming.

As he pumped into her, his fingers striking a rapid and deep rhythm, he let his tongue lash at her button. Her keening cries became hoarse, and her body rocked then stilled. All of her went taut except for her sex. It rippled, it clung, it exploded on his fingers, and she cried out.

The urgency of her orgasm took her and left her panting and thrashing on the bed, especially since he wouldn’t relent. Just because she came once didn’t mean he was done. He kept stroking and licking and…

Buzz. Buzz. Fucking buzzzzzzzzz.

The insistent buzzing wouldn’t subside, but with the taste of his wench on his tongue, the feel of her quivering and fluttering against his fingers, he wasn’t inclined to answer. The only thing he wanted to do right now was sink balls deep into her, to thrust until she reached that fever pitch again. And then… Then she would clench his cock tightly as she came again, scratching at his back and crying out his name—if she had any breath left.

That was what he wanted more than anything, but the buzzing continued. His space version of a cellphone, built into his very flesh, demanded he court it attention. The most annoying part? He knew he couldn’t ignore it. Only certain messages and certain contacts didn’t get sent to an automated message after a few buzzes.

He rolled off the bed, dick straining, balls tight and aching. His back to Emma lest he give in to temptation, he pressed his thumb against his wrist. It activated the embedded device—again a pricy upgrade that had proved its worth more times than he could count. Regular communicators could get damaged, stolen, or crushed. It happened more often than it should. Hence, the surgery and beggaring of his credit account to receive the embedded version.

He read the message that appeared on his skin, and his cock shriveled.

Fuck. And fuck. More like no fucking. Not right now at any rate.

It took only a few long strides to hit the bathroom and grab his clothes from the cleaning unit. He tugged them on and stalked back to the bedroom.

Eyes still heavy with passion, Emma sat up on the bed, a sheet pulled over her curves as she watched him. “Are we going somewhere?”

“I am. You’re not. I need to meet someone about business.”

She went to fling back the covers. “I’ll get dressed.”

“No.” He barked the word louder than he meant to. Frustration was probably to blame. “This is something I have to deal with on my own. Stay here and get some rest. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

He hoped.