Now she could see Leo clearly, lying not six feet from her. His brown hair was tousled, his thick lashes rested on his cheeks.
He was too good-looking, too smiley, too...nice. She didn’t like him. He made her feel...strange. Even now, with his eyes closed and his hand hanging off the side of his bed, his presence seemed to press in on her. She watched as his mouth parted slightly, his chest rising and falling evenly. Apparently he had no difficulties sleeping.
Her presence did not disturb him. She sat up, scowling at him. He snored softly.
The wind howled.
She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling alone and lost.
She stood, tiptoeing across the floor on the carpeted floors. Her toes curled, the thick softness of the woven stockings an unusual sensation against her skin. She crept from the room and down the hallway, winding her way back to the large common room where she’d had dinner. It was deserted now, quiet.
Several rooms and hallways led in different directions, and she explored the peculiarities of Galileo. The last door she opened onto a small room, almost a closet. But the outer wall held a massive window, without any seam or break in its surface. The images beyond distorted from the thickness of the glass, but she didn’t mind. It was a glimpse of the outside world, a view she needed.
She rested her forehead against the glass. The tug had been a floating fish tank, or so her mother said. She’d never really understood what that meant. Her mother had said it was an old expression that didn’t mean anything. But the massive windows had been why her mother had purchased the ancient tugboat. She, like her mother and grandmother before her, loved looking out into the quiet of the black.
“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Leo was at her side, speaking softly.
She jumped. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” He smiled slightly and she looked away.
“What’s hard?”
“Being cooped up.”
She hesitated, thinking about it. “I guess it’s no different than being on my tug.”
“But you know you’re not. So it is. At least for me. It doesn’t feel...right.” He stretched. “I never sleep deep, not when I’m not on my ship. You know?”
She did know, she felt it too. He smiled as she glanced at him. He seemed to take up an awful lot of space in the small room. But it didn’t bother her. Why didn’t it bother her? She swallowed, asking, “You have a ship?”
He straightened. “I do.”
“I don’t.” She let her forehead rest against the window again. It wasn’t cool to the touch. She wished it was, she missed chill air—she missed the black. “Not anymore.”
There was a long silence.
She began to wonder if he’d left and returned to his bed. She hoped he’d stay, she hoped he’d...
“I’m sorry about your ship.” He spoke softly, stirring something deep inside of her. “What will you do?”
She didn’t know what she’d do. She didn’t even know what she was feeling. And that’s what scared her. Tears pricked her eyes, horrifying her. She couldn’t speak now—he’d hear the tears in her voice. She drew in a slow and steady breath, shrugging.
“You been piloting long?” he asked.
Her voice was tight, thin. “Born in the cockpit.”
He laughed. “It can feel like that.”
She glanced at him, smiling slightly. “No. I was born in the cockpit. My mother was on a run and I decided to come.” But it was gone. Everything was gone. She had no place to go and no way to get there.
“She was a tugger too?”
“And my grandmother before her. That tug was ours, owned outright.” She blinked back tears furiously. “It was the only home I’ve ever had.” She sniffed. Why was she telling him this?
He cleared his throat. “You’ll be okay, Riley.” His voice was so soft, so soothing.
She looked up at him, surprised. But what surprised her more was the need, hot and fast, that flooded her as their eyes met. “You think so?”
He stepped closer, wiping a wayward tear from her cheek. His thumb was rough on her skin. She shivered from his touch. It felt so good.
“You might be tiny, but you’re strong. That’s easy enough to see.” His hand rested along the curve of her cheek.
He was handsome, everything about him. His eyes, his jaw, his lips... Her gaze lingered on his mouth. It was a very nice mouth, especially when it curved into a smile—like it was doing now.
She didn’t resist as his arms came around her. She didn’t mind that she had to stand on tiptoe and tilt her head back. His lips tasted as good as they looked, erasing every thought from her head with the lightest touch. As his hand slipped into her hair, she gripped his waist for support. His lips moved over hers—alternating soft and firm—as if he were asking permission.
She leaned into him, pressing herself to the lean hardness of his chest. He was so warm, and strong. And, suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be held by this man.
His lips parted, mingling his breath with hers.
She gasped, the softest moan escaping as her knees began to wobble.
His arms crushed her to him. His hands pressed against her back, and his tongue sought entry to mouth.
Once more, she moaned. Her hands moved over him, tugging his shirt from his pants.
His hand grasped hers, holding them still. “Riley.”
He really was a good guy. She was pulling his clothes off, and he was stopping her. He should stop her. She should stop...this. But she’d lost everything—had control of nothing. Except what was happening right now. And right now, she couldn’t think of a thing she wanted more than Leo...all of Leo.
“Don’t stop this, Leo. I don’t want you to.” Her words were husky as she pulled his head back to her.
His kiss changed, losing any restraint. He lifted her with ease, grabbing her ankle and wrapping it about his waist. His back was pressed against the wall, letting him use both hands to hold her against him.
He gripped her hips, and she clung to his shirt, desperate for more. She’d never felt such heat, such longing.
His hands were on her bare skin, making her thankful her shirt laces offered him no resistance. She was vaguely aware of helping him shake off his shirt. His stomach touched hers, hot and hard against her chest. It was the heat of him—the feeling of his skin on hers—that forced her nipples to harden and peak.
He slid down the wall, cradling her in his lap. She watched as he lifted one pale breast, his mouth closed over the tip. His tongue, his teeth, spurred a more guttural moan to rip from her.
She lay back, pulling him with her, working the fastenings of his pants with desperate fingers. She saw him glance at her hands, saw him brush the hair back from her forehead. He helped her unfasten his pants, then quickly slid the skirt from her hips.
He kissed her, settling between her legs. When his tongue slipped inside her mouth, he slid deep inside her body.
She moaned, rocked by the feel of him. Her arms wound about him, her hands exploring his back, his shoulders, all of him. He moved within her, setting a deep rhythm she happily gave in to.
It was fast, a rising tide of electric heat. She buried her face against his neck, muffling the moans that each thrust pulled from her. She tightened her legs about his waist, holding on. When he lifted her hips to meet him, it hit. She stiffened convulsively as a climax coursed through her, running exquisite pleasure through her every nerve. Her cry was harsh, tearing from her before she thought to stifle it.
His gaze traveled over her face as he thrust into her again. He slid deep, going rigid as he found release. His groan echoed off the walls, making her smile.
Somehow it didn’t bother her that she was on the floor.
She knew she should be upset by what she’d just done. Instead,
she felt satisfaction. She stared up at him, meeting his smile with one of her own.
“Well,” he managed breathing heavily.
Her smile grew. “Yeah.”
It grew silent, and still the two of them regarded each other. He shifted, pulling her against his side and covering them with her skirt. It was enough, he was big and warm.
“Sleep well, Riley,” he murmured against her hair.
She didn’t get up or leave him. Instead she allowed herself one more new experience. She rested her head on his chest, letting the sound of his heart ease her to sleep.
* * *
“Morning,” Marguerite sat a cup of tea on the floor beside her.
Riley opened one eye, then the other. She was still on the floor. But there was a pillow beneath her head and blankets covering her.
Leo was nowhere to be seen.
“Morning.” She felt amazingly well rested.
Marguerite shook her head. “That can’t be very comfortable. If you’re going to sleep in here, I’ll get George to move one of the cots.”
She almost argued, but decided against it. She couldn’t sleep with other people around, never could. She preferred to be alone.
She remembered Leo’s heartbeat under her ear. She’d slept surprisingly well last night. “Only if it’s no trouble.”
“Shouldn’t be.” Marguerite handed Riley her clothes, neatly folded. “Your clothes are all clean. I guess the others were a bit uncomfortable after all?” She looked at the rumpled clothes Leo had removed the night before.
Riley could feel the heat in her cheeks. “Not uncomfortable, just different. Thank you.”
“I’ll let you get dressed. Lots to do with Holiday tomorrow.” Marguerite scooped up the loaner clothes and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Once Marguerite was gone Riley stood, stretching.
She felt the delicious pull and ache of muscles she hadn’t used in a while.
Leo. Last night had been reckless, but she had no regrets. Flashes of the night played through her mind, stoking the embers of this powerfully strange desire. No, she didn’t regret a single second.
She dressed, pulling on her thermal white tank top. She was tugging her tight-fit, cold-resistant pants over her hips when a knock on the door made her turn.
Leo came in, leaning back against the door.
“I didn’t say come in.” She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Marguerite sent me to get you for breakfast.” He sounded amused.
She reached for her shirt, shaking it out with a quick glance at his face. He watched her, but didn’t say anything.
“You can go tell Marguerite I’m on the way, then.” She began snapping up the front of her shirt with relatively steady hands.
He picked up the vest and handed it to her.
She stared up at him, feeling something strange and warm settle in her chest. It wasn’t desire—she felt that too. But this was something else. She wasn’t sure she liked it. She took the vest.
He opened his mouth then shut it.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head, smiled tightly and left the room.
She held the vest, staring at the door.
Her heart was racing. She swallowed. That wasn’t good.
The sooner this storm was over, the better. Tuggers were loners. Having Leo around might confuse that.
She fastened the hooks of the vest, buckled the pants and laced up her boots before running a hand through her short crop of hair.
Breakfast was another groan-inducing feast for the senses. Eggs, hot oatmeal, more biscuits and even some sausage filled her belly. She ate every bite.
She pointedly ignored Leo. He watched her eat with a strange expression on his face. But he didn’t eat, which she thought was very rude.
As she sat back to sip the remainder of her coffee, Leo reached for his plate.
She shook her head. “Your food’s probably cold.”
“He didn’t want to choke again.” Marguerite laughed.
Leo’s eyebrows rose and he shot a look at the older woman. He ate his food but never said a word to her.
She was still sipping coffee when Walt joined them.
“A post made it through last night, Leo. It was patchy—broke up before we got the last bit. What we know is your ship reached the Patrol quarters on the Lakey Station. But no sign of the raider ship.” Walt shrugged.
Leo sighed. “Two weeks until we hear something more?”
Walt shrugged again. “Give or take a bit.”
Riley sat forward. “How old is your post-com system?”
Walt shrugged, chuckling. “I don’t think it’s been touched since they anchored here.”
Riley chewed on the inside of her lip.
“What are you thinking?” Leo asked.
“You need to talk to your crew?” she asked.
Leo nodded. “If those raiders are still out there, I don’t want them to leave Lakey.”
“You don’t think they’ll sit?”
Leo scratched his chin. “Well, my crew’s a bit...dodgy.”
Marguerite laughed. “Dodgy?”
Someone spoke up. “Jumpy? Quick on the draw?”
“Itching for a fight?” another offered.
“Short-tempered,” Walt added.
Leo sighed. “They don’t do so well when I’m not there to keep them under control is all.”
Riley glanced from face to face. She leaned closer, whispering, “And this crew, you left them in charge of your ship while you stayed here? Why, exactly?”
Leo shot Walt a look. Marguerite and Walt stood, busying themselves as they made several trips to and from the kitchen.
“I have a certain cargo.” Leo paused.
“A cargo they want? It’s on your ship?”
He stared at her, lifting an eyebrow.
“Oh,” she said. “You sent them on without it as decoy. You’ve got the cargo here.”
Leo smiled.
“But if these raiders find out it’s not on your ship, they’ll come back here. Aren’t you worried what raiders might do to these people?” She glanced around the room.
“That’s why I need to reach my crew, if I can. To make sure they’re still with my crew. I’ve no intention of getting these people in any trouble, Riley.” He sat forward, shifting. His thigh pressed the length of hers. “I’ve no intention of hurting anyone.”
“What’s so important about this cargo, Leo?” She added, “Are you a raider too?”
His jaw worked. “You think so low of me?”
She felt shame creep in at her accusation. Whatever Leo was or wasn’t, she knew—somehow—that he wasn’t the kind of man to turn raider. But she couldn’t say that, not out loud. She felt her cheeks go hot just thinking about it.
Leo shook his head then shifted on the stool, his thigh leaving hers. She shivered unexpectedly.
She saw Walt out of the corner of her eye and stood, putting distance between Leo and herself.
It was probably better for both of them if she didn’t say a thing. The arctic blasts wouldn’t last forever. There was no point in forming any kind of connections with these people...any of them.
“Walt?” She met the older man’s gaze. “I think I can help with the post-com problem. It might last long enough to let Leo reach his crew.”
Walt’s brow furrowed. “Is it so serious that he can’t wait for a few weeks? It’s almost Holiday.”
“Holiday?” There was that word again. Another word she didn’t know. But this word was important to them, she knew that already.
“Walt,” Marguerite called from the kitchen. “The heat sensor is shorting out again.”
Walt sigh
ed. “Now, if you know how to fix heat sensors...” He shook his head and rubbed a hand across his bald head.
She nodded. “Well, then, you’re in luck. Let me get my tools.”
Walt stared at her with wide eyes. “I could kiss you.”
She laughed. “We’ll fix the heat sensor first, alright?” She headed to her claimed room, surprised to see a cot had already been placed against the wall. Marguerite didn’t waste time. Her utility belt lay at the foot of the cot, placed on top of what looked like a long white nightgown. She picked up the belt and strapped it around her hips.
She eyed the nightgown but didn’t pick it up. Did she look like the kind of person who wore ruffles?
She headed for the kitchen, unable to stop herself from looking for Leo. He wasn’t there. She sighed, brushing off the guilt again. As she entered the kitchen, her nose was assailed with all sorts of wonderful smells.
“Does it always smell like this in here?” she asked Marguerite. “I could sit here all day long, just sniffing.”
“You’ve lived too long on protein packs and dehydrated nutrient bars.” Marguerite clucked. “But I’m glad it smells good. I’m making cookies for the children—for Holiday.”
“Cookies? Pixies? Fairies? Holiday? It’s like you’re speaking a foreign language, Marguerite. I don’t understand any of it.” She moved around Marguerite to the long electrical panel. “But I can fix your heat sensor. That I understand.”
She opened the panel brackets with sure movements. It was a relief to be doing something familiar.
She rubbed her hands together as she surveyed her challenge. The sensor panel was old, the wiring only a few cycles younger than those on her tug. She smiled, pulling out her calibration meter. Simple wiring glitch. Her fingers moved nimbly over the fuses. In ten minutes, she’d redistributed the circuit load evenly.
She sat back, rubbing her nose. “I think that’ll do it. I’m not sure who hooked this up...”
“I did.” A voice she didn’t know spoke.
She turned, astonished to see Leo and two others watching her with interest. “You mounted the plate upside down then wired it backward,” she said to the man.
“That makes sense. I’m not real good with that kind of thing.” He was short and round. He kind of looked like Walt, with hair. “I’m Iggy.”
A Galactic Holiday Page 14
