A flash of hot anger steadied his voice. "No, I wouldn’t. I would never hurt her or take advantage of her. I love her." The words shocked him, falling into the air naked and exposing his greatest vulnerability. But he couldn’t take them back. Didn’t want to. He’d really fallen in love with her. Holy God.
"Those words are easy to say. I’ve heard them before, Crewman. Tell me why I should believe you."
That flash of anger returned, outrage that the commander could make such an incredible thing sound so tawdry, so used and meaningless. "Because it’s true. Because I can’t get her out of my head. I think about her day and night—"
"Please," the commander sneered.
Declan spun around, clenching his fists and glaring into his superior’s ice-blue eyes. "Yes, I want her. But that’s not the only reason I need to be with her. She’s amazing. Everything about her is amazing—what she says, what she does, the way she laughs. She knows more about just everything than I could ever dream to know, but she still wants to hear what I think about it. She makes me want to know more, do more. She makes me think it’s possible to do anything and I want to do it for her. Because—because she doesn’t treat me like some shit nerc from the backwater Rings. She’s amazing, sir, inside and out, and I love her."
He was breathing hard, shaking and a little dizzy, ears ringing. Anger still pulsed through his blood, but anxiety and embarrassment twisted in his gut as he replayed his words. They were true words, but very personal, and he’d just said them in a highly insubordinate tone to his commanding officer. He had a terrible feeling that he’d just made his situation so much worse.
The commander had folded his arms across his chest during Declan’s speech, watching him with cool cynicism. When he was done, the commander lifted an eyebrow. "Hmm." Then he began pacing again, leaving Declan to stew in mounting worry.
The silence grew and Declan snuck glances at his commanding officer, trying to interpret the man’s expression. He seemed thoughtful, but was he just considering what Declan had said or was he trying to decide what form of bodily harm suited him best?
As he watched the commander, a thought struck with jealous force and went flying out of his mouth without censure. "Are you interested in her, sir?"
The commander stopped abruptly and looked at Declan with raised eyebrows. Declan almost swallowed his tongue in mortification, but was unable to call the words back.
"And if I was?" his superior asked with no discernable emotion.
Jealousy sank deep claws into Declan and his hands snapped into fists at his sides. "The choice is hers," he said through clenched teeth, doing his level best to remember that this man was his superior and he couldn’t deck him. "But I won’t stand down, sir. Not even if you ordered me to. I love her and I’ll fight for her."
"You’d fight? Roll up your sleeves, come in swinging?"
"Try me," he snapped, desperately wishing the man would do just that.
Instead, the commander chuckled. "No thanks, kid. I’ll pass. You’ve got guts, though. I’ll give you that."
Declan blinked, thrown off balance. He watched the commander settle into a less aggressive stance, one hand on his hip and the other tugging at his ear, a wry smile on his mouth as he met Declan’s gaze.
"Appreciate the flattery, too, implying I’d be in the running for a lovely girl like Ryelle. But I’m a sight too old for her, don’t you think? She’s more like the daughter I never had." He dropped his hand to the other hip and contemplated the floor between them with a peculiar expression on his face, rocking a little on his heels. "Oddest thing. Never got married or had kids. Couldn’t see why anybody would, really. Too much time, too much trouble. Then she shows up and wham, I start acting like a papa bear with a sore tooth." He lifted his eyes to Declan and gave him a crooked grin. "She’s going to give me hell for this one."
Declan felt his jaw unhinge and couldn’t do a thing about it.
The commander chuckled and stepped forward to give him a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Just see you don’t do anything she doesn’t want you to do or I’ll throw you in the brig. Let’s eat."
Declan’s bewildered, "Y-yes, sir," fell into the empty air as the commander left him standing in the center of the room. Turning carefully, because it felt as though the room had tilted on its axis while he was otherwise occupied, he followed the commander with a strange sense of unreality. The past few minutes jumbled in his head in a mess of conflicting impressions, until one thought rose above the others.
The commander had been protecting Ryelle. The world seemed to settle back into place as he absorbed the truth of it. That was something he could understand, could wrap his mind around. As he entered the dining area, he took grim satisfaction in the commander’s actions. He’d been right to do what he did. Declan wholeheartedly approved, even if it’d been pure torture for him. If the roles had been reversed, he would have done the same.
Not a rival, though they both loved her. A fellow protector.
When he met Ryelle’s worried gaze, he was able to smile without much strain and move forward to catch her hands. Feeling her cool fingers fold into his made him giddy with relief and pleasure. She ran an assessing gaze over him then watched the commander with narrowed eyes while everyone moved to sit at the table. The man didn’t seem to notice her suspicious regard, bantering easily with the Sheridans.
Ryelle muttered something under her breath but sat next to Declan with a quick smile as she freed one of her hands. She didn’t let go of his other hand, though, and he felt little tingles of joy dancing up his arm. Some of it was the kiss of her power, but most of it was just being with her and being able to touch her. He watched her with a helpless smile on his face, content to stay like that forever.
Until Mina placed a steaming plateful of food in front of him. His appetite returned with a vengeance. "Thank you, Mem," he sighed and dove in.
The meal disappeared in record time, including dessert, and the commander and the Chief settled into a heated discussion on the merits of modern day musical composures. This seemed to be a familiar, well trampled subject, but neither man showed any sign of tiring.
"They’ll be at it for a while, dears," Mina said in a low voice as she leaned close. "Perhaps you’d like to explore the entertainment system in the other room?"
"We should help you—"
Mina interrupted Declan with a wave of her hand. "That’s what I have autobots for, Dec. Escape, while there’s still time." She winked at them with a dimpled smile before she swept out of the room.
Declan tried to match Ryelle’s dignified retreat but didn’t think he was very successful. It wasn’t the subject matter, really—watching the two officers argue about anything was fascinating as hell, but he was rather desperate to get Ryelle alone. She seemed to feel the same, increasing her pace after they left the dining area. Once they entered the living room, he found out why.
"So what did he say?" she asked without preamble. Her eyes studied him anxiously, mouth in a vulnerable curve.
He grasped her shoulders with a shake of his head. "I can’t—"
"Oh, yes you can," she said, her voice earnest. "There are lines that should not be crossed. He knows he has no right to pry into my personal life. If he badgered you—"
"He was just trying to protect you."
"Protect me?" she asked with a blink of astonishment.
"Yeah. He cares about you and wants to make sure you won’t get hurt. We talked about it and now he knows I’d never hurt you."
Emotions flew across her face, too swift for him to identify. "And just how were you supposed to hurt me?"
"Um," he mumbled, wondering how he was going to dance around this one. "By, uh, doing things that make you unhappy. Going too fast with things that you might not, ah…be ready for."
She stared at him while her face pinkened in the most adorable way. "Oh, God. Tell me you didn’t talk about kissing."
"Nope, didn’t come up," he reassured her with a grin. Her shoulders
sagged under his hands.
"Good," she muttered, dropping her chin. "So he was being protective?"
"Yes."
"That’s…nice. You looked terrified when you went in. Was it bad?"
"Naw," he lied without a qualm. "Not so bad. I think it’s great he’s watching out for you. Like family does."
Her head twitched up, eyes wide as she met his gaze. Then light slowly bloomed under her skin, brightening her eyes and smile until the dazzle almost knocked him off his feet. "Family…" she whispered as she rose up on her toes, clasped his face in her hands, and kissed him.
And then he was drowning again, falling into her without a whimper of protest. Her cool hands felt like a benediction against his hot skin and her mouth was heaven. Pleasure and peace, excitement and contentment, all in one place. She was a very fast learner or she had a very creative spirit—either way, she was steadily burning a hole through his self control with the sweet and eager glide of her lips.
His hands slid from her shoulders and down her spine, enjoying the long curve and the way she arched with his touch. Fingers in the small of her back, he urged her closer, knowing it was a mistake, but unable to stop. Her body brushed his, sweet and soft, and he shuddered. No more, stop now.
But he ignored the warning, until her teeth sank into his bottom lip in a delicate little nibble. Lust shot through him, hard and hot, and he gasped, jerking his head up. She blinked those long lashes at him, her eyes a sultry dark heat that threatened to burn him to his bones. With a groan, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. "Where did you learn to do that?" he asked in a strained voice.
"I’m sorry," she breathed, gently stroking his face with her cool fingers. "Did I hurt you?"
"No. At least, not my lip," he added in a rueful mutter, hands spanning her waist to create a bit more space between their bodies. "Answer the question."
"I saw it on a show. I wanted to know what it would feel like."
"A show," he sighed, wondering just what the hell else she’d seen. He could use the advance warning. Not that he could do much to prepare for whatever she did. It seemed he was just a steaming, helpless pile of idiot in her hands.
"Did you like it?" she asked, fingers stroking over his jaw as her thumb passed just under his bottom lip, sending tantalizing tingles over his skin. "Because I’d like to try that again."
"Oh god," he groaned, lifting his head and capturing her wrists in his hands. "Not right now, honey. I don’t think I could take it."
Her face fell into lines of bewildered hurt and he would happily have stretched out at her feet so she could stomp on him, if that would make her feel better. "Oh, you didn’t like it."
He swore softly, fighting a pitch battle with himself about pulling her into his arms. He might start out comforting her, but he knew he was way too heated from her kisses to stop there. "Ryelle," he said, struggling, and then found something that might help. "Could you kick me again?"
That brought her eyes up to his with startled humor. "What? Why?"
"Come here," he said with a lopsided grin, leading her to the small couch. "I’ll try to explain." They sat and he studied her hands in his for a moment, trying to breathe slow and deep, to calm his aching body.
Then he looked up at her and smiled. She smiled back, but there was an uncertain edge to it. She should have kicked him. It would have made him feel better. "I like it when you kiss me, when you touch me. A lot. It makes me want to do more. Way more. And I’ve only got so much will power here. So when you use your teeth on me—"
He had to pause and swallow hard, eyes straying to her mouth to watch her lips part on a breath. He tightened his grip on her hands, thinking stern thoughts. Picturing the commander’s predatory stare helped. "I’m afraid I’ll go too fast."
"What’s too fast?"
He gulped and looked away as several erotic scenarios flashed through the heated recesses of his brain. "I’m really trying not to think about it," he wheezed, though he was failing miserably.
"So, let me see if I understand what you’re saying," she said, and he looked up warily at the peculiar edge to her voice. She was chewing on the inside of her lip and he thought she might be fighting a smile. Her eyes studied him with dark, feminine mystery. "You really like what we’re doing and want to keep doing it, but you’re afraid that you’ll lose control, throw me down, and ravage me like an animal. Is that it?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
She made a noise like a muffled snicker and shook her head. "Oh, Declan. You won’t hurt me. And if you did do something I didn’t like or wasn’t ready for, I’d let you know. And if you lost control and didn’t listen to me, I could always throw you across the room. You know, with that handy telenetic ability I’ve got."
He cleared his throat, feeling heat climb his neck into his face. "Right," he muttered.
"Right," she repeated with a sweet smile. "So now can I try it again?"
"Try what?" Mina asked from the doorway, her voice making them both jump.
Heart thundering in his ears, Declan whispered, "Saved by the bell," as Ryelle turned away. She might say he wouldn’t hurt her and she could stop him if he did something foolish, but if he ever did anything to frighten her, or hurt her trust in him, he would never forgive himself. She didn’t know what she was asking, didn’t know where they were going. She might think differently once she knew.
He didn’t hear what excuse Ryelle had given to Mina, but it put a mischievous smile on the woman’s face and a twinkle in her eyes. Before she could say anything, though, the Chief and commander appeared behind her.
Declan breathed an extra word of thanks that he hadn’t given in to Ryelle’s tantalizing request, or he might find himself on the fast track to the brig right about now. This had not been the most private of places.
The commander was saying that they would hit the nebula quite early in the morning and he wanted Ryelle and himself up and ready for any issues that might occur. Which Declan understood to be a tacit order to get their asses to bed.
"I’ll walk you back to your quarters," he said quietly to Ryelle, standing to help her to her feet. "Thanks for dinner, Mem, Chief. It was really great."
"Delicious, as always," Ryelle added as they neared the couple.
"It was our pleasure," Mina said with a glowing smile, reaching for Ryelle with both hands. To Declan’s surprise, Ryelle bypassed her hands and stepped into her arms, wrapping her own around the woman’s shoulders. Mina’s smile softened as she met Declan’s gaze over the girl’s shoulder, her brown eyes growing glossy with tears. "You are both welcome anytime."
Ryelle sniffed but said nothing, letting go only when Mina began to pull back. The Chief held out his hand and Ryelle took it with a shaky smile. Declan felt a pang at the sight of moisture on her lashes and had to fold his arms tight to his chest to keep from drawing her into his arms.
The commander was watching her with solemn eyes, hands tucked behind his back. He led the way out into the corridor, pausing to say goodnight to the Sheridans. When the door closed on the Sheridan quarters, he turned to look at Ryelle.
"Okay, little mims?" he asked softly.
"Never better," she responded with a smile that made Declan’s heart dance in his chest.
The commander relaxed, his mouth curving. "Then goodnight to you both. I’ll see you in the morning." He started to turn away.
"Wait," Ryelle said, her smile fading. He turned back, eyebrows lifting in question. She clasped her hands in front of her, studying him with a peculiar expression, as if trying to work out a complicated puzzle. Then she made a small noise in her throat and gestured to him. "Could you bend down, please?"
He looked at her warily. "Are you planning on hitting me?"
"Not at the moment," she responded with a smirk.
He bent down, keeping a sharp eye on her. She edged closer then gave him a quick kiss on his narrow cheek. When he jerked up in surprise, she smiled and said, "Goo
dnight, sir."
Then she took Declan’s hand and tugged him in the opposite direction. Declan grinned back at his astonished superior. "Night, sir," he called over his shoulder, wishing he had the guts to say Papa Bear. Chuckling, he faced forward and lifted her hand to kiss the soft skin across her knuckles. "That was awesome."
"I don’t think he was expecting it," Ryelle said with a gloating smile.
"Not even a little. Wonder how often that happens?"
"To Commander Task? Not very. Declan, I’m not going to be able to sleep."
He glanced down at her in surprise at the change in subject. "Why not?"
She slanted him a glance that was full of sultry humor and his body overheated in a flash. "Will you be able to sleep?"
"Not for a long, long time," he answered with a strangled laugh.
"So, since I won’t be sleeping anyway," she said, looking straight ahead, "will you come into my quarters?"
He almost tripped and fell on his face. "That’s a bad idea," he rasped when he’d recovered enough to speak.
"That’s what I thought you’d say," she grumbled.
A bark of slightly hysterical laughter burst from him and he rubbed a rough hand over his face. "God’s mercy, I’m in so much trouble here."
That seemed to make her feel better. Her faintly sour expression eased into a dimpled smile. "I’m willing to negotiate. One last kiss?"
He thought about it as they moved through the corridors. Thought about it until his breath drew ragged in his throat. He tightened his hand around hers then on impulse, loosened his grip to winnow his fingers between hers in an intimate clasp that made his heart pound hard in his chest. He held her too hard, he thought, but she returned the pressure with equal intensity.
When they reached her door, she tipped her head back, looking up at him with calm expectation. She knew his answer already.
"I can’t come in," he said in a low, harsh voice.
"You said that already. I asked about a kiss."
"Out here? People will see."
"Then they’ll see. Could you show me how? To use my teeth, I mean," she whispered.
No Such Thing Page 13
