Kiri's gaze slid over him. He wore a snug singlet and pants, both of the same thin, clinging fabric, in his signature dark gray. His broad shoulders and his arms, long and powerful, were bare and gleaming with a film of perspiration. His hard face was flushed, his eyes bright, short hair clinging to his well-shaped head. He looked younger without his armor of business suit.
"What are you doing?" No, of course she wasn't all right. Memories were crashing over her in harsh, discordant waves. The loss of her money, the dreamlike trip in his cruiser and the dinner, then the fire, which meant the loss of everything else except her coffee stand.
She remembered her first, wild hope that it had all been just a nightmare and rolled her eyes at her own naïveté. Her nightmares attacked awake and asleep.
"Physical training," he answered, watching her. "On my way to shower-dry. You needn't get up yet."
"Of course I do," she said. "I've things I need to take care of."
"What things?"
She grimaced, scrubbing her hand fretfully across her eyes. "Oh, just a new place to live, some clothing, and my credit back. Nothing much." She moved and then froze as the covers slipped soft and silky against her skin. She was naked.
She lowered her hand, staring at him over her fingertips. He smiled slowly at her and the heat of memory swept over her face and body. And to top it all off, she'd not only slept with this man, she was in his home. He was a stranger, if an incredibly sexy, virile one, but she'd let him do everything he wanted to her. Even restrain her hands.
"Where are my things?" She needed her own armor.
He regarded her calmly. "Kiri. Stop worrying. What happens between us is no cause for shame."
His admonition was too close for comfort, but she certainly wasn't discussing that with him. "Of course I'm worried," she said. "I'm the woman who just lost her credit and place to live, remember?"
He walked over to the bed, standing over her like a ruler surveying a concubine. And despite her turmoil, something in her traitorous body responded.
"And I'm the man who's going to take care of you. Get up when you're ready. Your lavatory is through there, and there are a few things in the walk-in closet. I'm sure you'll find something to fit you."
She cast a lightning glance around the luxurious room, understanding locking on like a tractor beam that yanked her up and slammed her into the wall of reality—Stark reality. He'd brought her to his pleasure pad. He did this kind of thing on a regular basis. She was just one of many women.
She dragged the soft coverlet with her as she thrust her feet over the edge of the bed and stood. "Where are my things?"
His face didn't change, but she knew with a visceral certainty that he was amused.
"They should be hanging in the closet," he said. "Enjoy your shower-dry."
Turning, he strolled toward the door, which stood partly open, revealing a quiet hallway. Kiri sighed. "Wait."
Stopping the doorway, he turned to look back at her over his broad shoulder.
"Thank you," she said. "You've been … really kind. I appreciate that."
Well, at least she'd managed to surprise him, although the flash of expression was gone as quickly as it appeared. He didn't give much away. He inclined his head in acknowledgement.
"You're welcome. Thank you for the very fine fucking. Come and eat when you've dressed."
She frowned at him. "So maybe you were nice to me," she said. "Doesn't mean we're doing any of—of this again."
"Duly noted." His eyes gleamed. "Although I believe I still owe you a spanking."
He was laughing at her. She growled under her breath at his presumption that she would ever allow him to spank her. But heat arrowed straight down through her—she could imagine that circumstance all too vividly.
He turned away. She let her gaze slide down over his long, tapering back to lean hips and a tight, stellar ass, his thin drawstring pants draping over legs taut with muscle as he walked away. The recessed door slid shut behind him.
When he was gone, she blew out a long breath, forcing herself to relax. So she'd had a hot tryst with a quadrillionaire—it was over now. He was dominating and as irritating as a—a stone in her coffee beans. And she was the one who'd said yes to everything he'd asked.
Strong women admitted their own foibles and learned from them. So what she had to do was to stay at least an arm's length away from him. No more touching, he was too good at it.
And far enough away she couldn't look into his eyes. They were like some kind of tractor beam, pulling her in.
Also crucial to stay out of range of that deep, compelling voice of his. She had an uneasy feeling that she would do a lot to keep that warmth in his deep voice. Not good.
She groaned quietly. So far the man could seduce her with a look, a word or a touch. Clearly, she needed to stay completely out of his orbit.
Desperate for a distraction from her weakness, Kiri looked around, this time slowly, taking in every detail of her surroundings. It was like a luxury hotel at the pinnacle of the one of the city's skyscrapers that she'd seen on the holovids.
The bedroom was the size of her entire apartment, all in softest of yellow, like a shaft of pale sunlight penetrating the heavy clouds of New Seattle. The walls were smooth, the fitments cerametal of gray so pale it was nearly white, as was the plush carpet under her feet.
She padded across the room, trailing her blanket. She nearly tossed it on the bed, but eyed the door uneasily, not willing to trust it wouldn't open again to divulge one of his employees. He probably had staff here. She froze. Oh God, they might have heard her cries last night—she'd been pretty noisy.
Okay, not thinking about that.
The closet opened at a touch of her fingers, wide doors sliding open with a whisper. Wow. More than a closet, it was an entire small room, stocked with everything a woman could desire—at least for the boudoir.
There were robes of lii leaf silk, light as wisps of steam on their hangers, slippers set neatly in racks. A wide rack of drawers opened to reveal little lii silk tanks and panties, nighties and underthings of what looked like cobwebs, woven of delicate colors to highlight a woman's skin.
She stroked her fingers over a pair of shell-pink panties, grimacing when a callus snagged the delicate fabric. Spider lace—she'd seen it in the high end shops on the space port concourse, but never touched it. It felt as lovely as it looked.
Stepping back resolutely, Kiri grabbed her black tunic and tights, hanging like a dead raven amongst the jeweled colors of the other garments. She sniffed—they'd been cleaned, the fabric fresh.
She turned to leave, only to stop in her tracks as she realized her serviceable underthings were missing. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment—her panties and light bra were made of cheap fabric that had been recycled until the fibers frayed, but they were what she could afford. And now they were gone. That space magnate had ripped her panties off and probably thrown her bra away with it.
But most importantly, he'd seen it and handled it—and everything that lay underneath it. She took a step and nearly tripped over the blanket. Or perhaps she was stumbling over the truth—that she had loved every moment of sex with Logan Stark…and she wanted more.
She dropped the blanket, but the memory of his touch remained wrapped around her.
* * *
Stark stood in his lav, running the shaver over his jaw. As the tiny blades hummed, he glanced from the mirror to the holovid hovering in midair to his left.
The penthouse was fitted with surveillance holocams in every room, for security purposes.
But he wasn't above using them to assuage his curiosity about his current guest. He had half an idea that she would run without even saying goodbye. If she wanted to go, he'd see her safely back to the port. That way he'd know where to find her again.
Now he watched appreciatively as she let the coverlet fall to the carpet.
Kiri te Nawa was a beauty, all right, with her pale golden skin. Slender and well-muscled,
with long legs, a tiny waist and flat belly, but she had a full, heart-shaped ass. Her breasts were small, but they were high and firm, with small, dark peach nipples. She had fine ankles, slender, high-arched feet and capable little hands. Scarred with old burn marks. Scalds from coffee, probably. He'd like to send her to a top plastic surgeon, have the damage repaired. Her golden skin should be flawless.
His appreciation changed to amusement as she poked through one of the drawers in the dressing room bureau, her expression veiled. Pretending even to herself she didn't care about whatever was in that drawer. Her eyes brightened though, when she found something she liked.
He grinned to himself as she lifted a pair of red spider lace panties and bra from the drawer. Wasn't a woman of his acquaintance who could resist lovely underthings. She reached in again for a pair of delicate black stockings. With them in her hand, she turned, and his gaze dropped to the feathery triangle of black curls on her mons. His groin tightened and he grimaced wryly as he switched off his shaver.
Seemed once with her had only whetted his appetite. He'd move to keep her for a time, then. She could use his help, and he was more than ready for her in his bed again.
His last lover, the ex-mistress of a business rival, had been beautiful, inventive and full of information about her former husband's business, but they'd parted weeks ago. He'd visited an exclusive sex club once since then, but while he'd come away sated physically, he wouldn't mind a woman with whom he could talk, as well.
Kiri walked into the lav and Stark switched off the holovid link. Seemed she wasn't going to run, at least not quite yet, so he'd give her privacy. Little cat—a man never knew when her claws were going to come out.
One thing about her, he wouldn't be bored.
* * *
Stark was waiting for Kiri when she emerged, clean and dressed. He stood on the other side of a large, open room, a mug in his hands, looking out at the dark, foggy New Seattle day through floor to ceiling windows. He was dressed now in black fitted trousers and low boots, topped with a shirt of purple so dark it was nearly black. He had a brooding look, as if his thoughts were far away. Probably plotting how to own everything he saw.
The room was furnished in the same exquisite style as the bedroom, although in dark colors from the black leather of the bold, square furniture to the pewter and grays of the cushions inviting one to sit down and watch the rain from this warm, plush haven.
"Is that dark roast I smell?" she asked, stopping in the middle of the room.
Stark turned, his gaze focused on her like a laser. Kiri realized she'd braced herself for the force of his attention. Ah, and there was that smile as he looked her over, leaning one elbow on the wide ledge of the framework that traversed the windows.
Memories swirled between them with such heat she was surprised the windows didn't fog up. Him, surging over her in the lamplight, his cock buried to the hilt in her. Stroking her deep inside, possessing her.
She locked her knees against the urge to go to him. She'd made him smile, that was only what she did for customers. More than that was foolish. He might have given her the best sex of her life, but that didn't mean they were true intimates.
"Dark and hot," he agreed. "Come. I've real cream."
She crossed the room to him, or to his coffee. On a table before the windows a coffee service was set out, as well as a number of covered dishes emitting intriguing scents.
Stark pulled one of the metal and leather chairs out for her. His palm brushed the small of her back as she moved past him to sit. Ignoring the thrill of pleasure rippling through her skin, Kiri sat. She picked up the graceful cerametal carafe, pouring a stream of rich, dark coffee into her heavy mug. She looked at him inquiringly and he held out his mug for a refill, looking quietly pleased.
She quelled the urge to wish she belonged here. Better to pretend she was having a dream liaison in one of those fancy hotels. Delightful, but soon over.
She accepted the small pitcher he handed her and poured some of the rich creamer into her coffee. She took a sip and sighed with pleasure. Rich and full-bodied, the coffee was delicious.
"Pangaean," he said. "You like it?"
She nodded, taking another drink.
"Although of course you serve this at your stand, yes?"
She gave him a look. "Oh, of course I do." A vastly inferior grade, cut with so many grava beans it bore only a faint resemblance to this rich, dark brew.
Holding the hot cup in her hands, Kiri looked out the window at her side.
"Wow. How high are we?" she asked faintly.
"Thirty stories. Like the view?"
And she'd thought her fourteenth-floor walkup was high.
"Those buildings down there look like the building blocks my brother and I used to play with." But at least from up here one couldn't see the dirt and squalor of much of the city.
"You've a brother?" he asked.
She froze, and then took another drink too quickly, scalding her mouth.
"Used to."
"Ah. I've two, myself," he said quietly.
She jerked her chin in silent acknowledgement, but didn't look at him, hoping he'd take the hint. The pain was too big. If she let it out now, after all she'd been through, she'd never get it contained. And she had to contain it, had to hold on. Even if it was only by her claws, with the abyss yawning beneath her.
She focused fiercely on the view. A big transport barge dropped out of the clouds to hover, signal lights flashing. The control room at the top held two humans and another being with a bulbous blue head. A Lo-Aq, maybe. If so, she pitied the quarkers stuck in that cockpit with him. The barge's hull was battered, scarred by collisions with small meteors, other craft, docks and perhaps more.
A small port authority cruiser zipped up to hover by the barge, and the huge craft followed, dropping down into the fog.
Dizzy, Kiri jerked her gaze back to the room.
"Hungry?" Stark asked.
She surveyed the covered dishes over her coffee mug. She'd sworn she'd never want to eat again after that meal last evening, but she was hungry. When she nodded, Stark set down his mug and touched a button on the table. The cerametal covers of the dishes retracted, revealing their contents.
Kiri inhaled the rich aromas. The scones she recognized; she sometimes bought one from the bakery on the next concourse at the port. The fruit was golden ripe gremel from Pangaea. The fluffy yellow contents of the smaller dish next to it were a mystery, as were the crisp brown cylinders reposing in the third.
"Moonhen eggs and vegeprotein sausages," Stark said. "Try some. Delicious."
She eyed them doubtfully. "Real bird embryos?"
"Full of protein," he coaxed, his eyes twinkling.
"All right, then." Kiri allowed him to dish her some of the eggs and one of the sausages. She took a small bite of the eggs, chewing carefully. They were as tender as they looked and delicious, so she nodded at his look of inquiry and took a bite of the vegsausage. It was salty and crisp, and melted on her tongue. "That's really good." She took another bite, looking greedily at those left in the dish.
He nodded, indicating that she should take more. "I thought you'd like it."
The gremel fruit was sweet, the scones were light and flaky, laden with plump dried berries. Kiri ate until she was full, setting down her fork with regret. "Delicious, thank you."
Stark nodded, but his eyes sharpened over his coffee mug. "You're welcome to stay for the midday meal."
Her heart lifted, but only for an instant. Much as she'd love to stay in his luxurious orbit, it was not to be.
"I've things to do. A new place to live, and—"
He merely looked at her and she broke off with a shrug. He probably didn't recall what it was like down here at the bottom of the food chain.
"I can't get your credit back," he said. "I know you don't like what the Vulpean did, but it wasn't illegal. But I can help you."
Her heart gave another happy little leap. She rubbed her damp pa
lms over her thighs. "Oh. What would that involve?"
He shrugged, as if it were as inconsequential as which flavor to have in his coffee. "We'll decide that later."
Later? She didn't have until later. She only had now, and even that was debatable. Time to wake up from this pleasant little dream.
Kiri slid out of her chair, rising to look down at Stark. It should have been an advantageous position, but somehow it wasn't. Only stubbornness held her straight and adamant, when she wanted to sink back into her chair and agree to whatever he was offering, except that she wasn't sure it was anything but a soft nest for a few days and nights.
"Thanks, but I have a business to run. I can't just take the day off."
"Kiri—"
"Look, I appreciate your offer, but I'm a businesswoman, not one of your fancy whores. I can't just lounge around here." She waved her arm at the big room with its plush accoutrements.
His gaze iced. Kiri bit her lip, wishing she could swallow her hasty words. Quark, she'd had better manners than that since she was nine.
It was just that her lovely breakfast was knotting in her stomach with nerves as she remembered the gaping hole of her credit account and the empty coffee bins in her kiosk and her apartment and all its contents, gone.
What she really wanted to do was fling herself into his arms and weep. Not exactly a move of strength.
He held her there with just a look. "I don't want to hear that word from your mouth again. It has nothing to do with you."
"Sorry. I didn't mean that. Not that way, at least."
She couldn't very well tell him it was the thought of being only one more in a swift parade through this place—here this week, gone when another more beautiful woman caught his eye, that drove her hot words. She was different, that was all. Just a novelty for him in his shiny world.
Whereas the debacle awaiting her in hers was of such a magnitude that those sinister wings were flapping under her breastbone again.
Stark rose, setting his napkin down. Well, that was fine, glad one of them was calm.
"A pity in a way," he said. "You'd make an alluring courtesan."
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 81
