His attention was drawn back to the present when Patsy claimed his hand and pulled him toward another mini-tram entrance. “We’ll have to take another tram unless you’re up for walkin’ a fair distance.”
Crammed into the tram, they arranged themselves as before, her legs between his. The car swooped into a tunnel that ran between decks. “I should probably warn ya—”
What now? Without speaking a word, he narrowed his eyes and waited for her to continue.
In quick succession she winced, bit her lip, and rapidly spilled the bad news. “I had to clear out my storage area and my wardrobe space, so the cabin’s a tiny bit crowded with all my stuff.” She held her hands up. “But don’t worry. I’ve hired a cratin’ company to come pack what I don’t take in my luggage into a cargo container and get it to the spaceport. It’ll be out of our way tomorrow.”
“I see. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
She released a long sigh. “Good. I was a little worried. What if ya were claustrophobic. You’re not a klutz? Because if ya are, it might be tricky.”
He laughed at her expression, a cross between concern and wariness. “Thankfully for you, I’m not.”
The tram arrived, and they disembarked with Patsy once again taking his hand to quicken his pace. “We need to hurry. The delivery bot won’t wait if there’s no answer when it arrives at the cabin.” She pulled him left along a corridor lined with doors. “This way. Oh goodness. The bot’s almost to my door.” She dropped Trey’s hand and pelted along the hall.
Trey didn’t speed his own pace, enjoying the scene as Patsy engaged the bot in conversation with the requisite hand motions she used while talking to people. When he reached her cabin, the bot was zooming away, and Patsy was grinning at him, pizza box in hand.
“Mmm. Can ya smell it? There’s nothin’ like pizza in the whole wide universe.” With a nod of her head at the cabin’s interior, she said, “Go on in.”
The cabin was much smaller than Trey had imagined. Patsy’s belongings were piled in towering stacks of bins. “Where?”
“Left and then right. I promise there’s a path through to the kitchenette and table.”
Following her instructions, Trey wound his way to find the table. It at least was empty.
“Have a seat.” Patsy deposited the pizza. “I’ll get plates and napkins. What would ya like to drink? I’m after runnin’ out of fizzies, which ya probably won’t mind. I’ve plenty of Q water. It’s bottled on the ship.”
“Water’s fine.”
After taking a bite of pizza, Trey waved his slice in an arc at the crowded room. “Where did you keep all this stuff?”
“Mmpf.” When Patsy finished swallowing, she responded. “Some went into my staff storage locker. But the rest I kept in my cabin. It wasn’t much bigger than this, but at least I had a space to myself and didn’t have to share a dorm room like the performers do. I lined my walls with racks and shelves wherever I could and binned things by category. The gray bins are my set tools. Blue is for costumes. Green is my personal bits and pieces. Red is my dancin’ gear. Yellow is my magic kit.”
Trey brought his gaze back to Patsy. “You perform?”
“I tried.” She flashed him a half smile. “I started as a magician’s helper.” She gave a flourish with her hand and grinned. “I’m not really built for that role, but Harry the Magnificent was desperate, and I came cheap.”
“You’re built fine from where I’m sitting.” Trey enjoyed the flush that brightened her cheeks.
She covered her reaction in a rush of words. “Then I did a stint as an Irish step dancer. Performed in a big stage show. Eventually I found my callin’ behind the scenes. Done a bit of everythin’. Costumes, set, props, and a dreadful six months as a director’s assistant. I moved up to stage manager here at the CC.”
“You should get rid of some of this stuff rather than cart it with you. Randolph will give you the funds to replace whatever equipment you need. You’re not being hired to make costumes or sets.”
After a feint at crossing her arms, she shrugged. “I’m a tryer, not a chancer. Sure as I left somethin’ behind, I’d be needin’ it.”
“Things can always be replaced.”
She turned her face and looked to the side. “Some things can’t.”
Her statement sat between them, a cold lump of truth, until she briskly slapped her palms to the tabletop. With a tip of her head toward the bedroom, she said, “Your bed’s waitin’ for ya. The toilet’s a cubby inside. I laid out extra towels for ya. I’ll do the cleanin’ up and settle in on the sofa.”
Trey rose from the table as she did and gathered the disposables. “You’ll take the bed.”
“I’ll take the sofa.” The plates clattered as Patsy inserted them into the dish fresher.
“Don’t be stubborn.”
The fresher snapped closed with a bang. “Ya don’t fit on the sofa. I do.”
“You and all the stuff you’ve piled on it?”
Hands on her hips, she turned to face him. “I’ll move it.”
“And block the only way out of this fire trap?”
“I’ll not be sharin’ a bed with a man I’ve just met.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Sure and there’s only the one bed. Where did ya plan on sleepin’?”
“I’ll take the floor.”
She glanced around, flicked her hand in the direction of the only clear space, and cocked an eyebrow at him. “And block the only way out of this fire trap?”
Stabbing a finger toward the bedroom, Trey asked, “Have you filled that room too?”
Lips pressed together, she glared at him. “No.”
“Then I sleep on the floor in there.”
“Oh, you’re so manly. And me a wee girl in need of pamperin’. I’ve slept on the floor before.”
Trey scowled at her. “I’m Tallavan. A man doesn’t let a woman sleep on the floor.”
“You’re a stubborn son is what ya are.”
When he made no response, staring at her with an implacability reminiscent of an ancient tree, she threw up her hands. “Fine. Ya can sleep on the floor. Since ya find it necessary to put yourself last, I’ll use the toilet first too.”
The sight of her flouncing away made Trey grin. Teaching that pert woman to submit to him would be entertaining. Randolph’s instructions could be construed to include initiating her into a Dominant/submissive relationship. Maybe. Something to consider.
He waited until she popped her head out of the door and said, “Your turn.”
The sleeping space wasn’t large, but there was enough room for him to stretch out fully. Patsy was burrowed into the covers, facing the wall. Inside the bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror. Damn. His luggage with his toiletries had never arrived. He borrowed a swig from Patsy’s nanite-laden mouth rinse and swished it around before spitting it out. Anything else could wait. After removing his shirt and slacks, he folded them and walked back into the bedroom.
“Is there a spare pillow?”
Without turning to look at him, Patsy reached behind her head for the second pillow and threw it at him. He snatched it from the edge of the bed, holding it front of himself.
“And a blanket?”
She rolled over, and her eyes went wide. “Ya sleep in the nude!”
“No.” He pulled the pillow away to reveal his briefs.
“As good as.” Back turned to him again, she said, “Top shelf of the closet.”
“Thank you.”
“Think nothin’ of it.”
“I won’t.”
A snort muffled by the covers was her only response. He chuckled. She was cute with her Irish feathers ruffled.
Feckin’ man! Why did someone so exasperatin’ have to be built like a god? Standin’ there in his underpants. All his glory on display except for his private bits, which weren’t exactly hidden by that layer of cloth.
The closet door slid shut with a thunk. A snap sounded when h
e whipped the blanket out. It was impossible to ignore the rustling noises he made fluffing the pillow and settling himself
“Lights off.” The room went dark. “Good night.”
Sure and he’s nothin’ but courtesy. She snapped back her response. “Night.”
Another of his chuckles grated across her nerves.
How am I supposed to sleep with him in the same room? The irritatin’ man is too damn hot. Stubborn idjit. He can have the floor and welcome to it. She readjusted the pillow, released a sigh, and determined to stop thinking about him.
I don’t have that much stuff. It just looks like a lot crammed in here. Sure and he’s got himself a fine lot of toys for dominatin’ women. Would he leave it all behind when he moved? What does he know about all the scrimpin’ and savin’ I’ve done to pay for every single thing I own? He was born on a wealthy planet. I earned more in sore feet and muscles than I did credits as a dancer, so I keep what’s important. Thank you, Master Trey, for noticin’. Lucky for him to be born big and dominatin’ and able to earn his keep at it. I need my stuff. Who knows if I’ll keep this job.
The bing bong of the entry chime sounded. What the…?
Trey sat up at the same time she did.
“Who could that…?”
“It’s my luggage. Lights on.”
“Oh.”
He peeled back the blanket and stood.
“You’re not answerin’ the door in your underpants.”
“It’s probably a bot.”
His momentary hesitation gave her the chance to move the covers aside and get between him and the door. “I’ll answer it.”
“I suppose fuzzy jammies with bears and pink hearts is better.”
“It is.” She threaded her way to the cabin’s entrance, greeted the bot, and accepted the luggage. After the door closed, she turned to push the suitcase.
“I’ll take that.”
With a shriek she jumped. “Feckin’ man! Ya near scared the red out of my hair.”
The glare she aimed at him was met by an expression of regret from Trey that didn’t quite hide his amusement. “Sorry. I didn’t want you to have to negotiate the maze with that thing.”
Patsy felt her checks heat. Once again she had a full view of Trey in all his magnificence. This time, because he was closer, every fine detail of his washboard abs covered in smooth taut skin and the line of dark hair that disappeared into his briefs was distinct. Her girlie bits lit with flaming desire. She jerked her gaze to the luggage. “Get on with it then.”
The sight of his wide palms and long fingers sent another ache of longing through her. Every part of him was like an erotic overture calling her to immerse herself in decadence. He maneuvered the suitcase so he could push it along, and Patsy’s knees went weak. His bum was within easy reach, and it was begging to be stroked. She balled her fists and plodded after him.
When he reached the kitchenette, he picked up the bag and stood aside so she could move by him. “Ladies first.”
Without a word she slid past him, working hard to give the impression that nearness to his nearly naked body didn’t affect her in the least. She scrambled onto the bed and under the covers, sitting, watching him.
“Where should I put this?” His gaze traveled over the tiny room. “There’s no room in the closet with all the shoes.”
“It’s not that many shoes. The closet’s small.”
Trey threw his palms out to the side. “So?” He glanced toward the corner of the room where there was space between the head of the bed and wall.
Oh hell! If he puts it there, he’ll be loomin’ over me every time he wants somethin’ out of it. She scanned the room, came up empty, and pointed at the corner. “You’ll have to put it there.”
He strode around the bed and deposited the suitcase. All attempts to keep her gaze from straying to his briefs were for naught.
“My cock is getting uncomfortable with you staring. If you don’t want me getting ideas, you should stop lusting after it.”
Patsy huffed out a breath. “I’m not lustin’ after it. It’s just…abnormally large.” And growing bigger from the look of things.
“I like to think of it as just right.”
“I’m sure ya do.” She slumped into the bed and covered her head with the blanket. “Good night.”
A thump sounded. “Ouch. Just my toe. Nothing to worry about.” The room grew quiet. “Good night, a leanbh.”
She ignored him and lay still, listening, unable to sleep. When he began to snore softly, she whipped the blanket down and took a deep breath.
Patsy O’Shaughnessy, you’ve got to get ahold of yourself. You’re playin’ with fire. The man’s a Dom. If you start in with him, you’ll soon be doin’ everythin’ his way. If he was here to help her understand dominance in a D/s relationship, he was off to a fine start, although the descriptions she’d read hadn’t included stubborn or pigheaded. Or full of himself. Canceling his suite had been a big mistake. Even if they’d been in her larger cabin, the proximity to him would still have been much too close. All because she wanted to save some money. Not even her own credits.
Shut your eyes and go to sleep. You can figure this out tomorrow.
Three
Trey woke early, sat, and stretched to work out the stiffness in his back. Patsy was lying on her side facing him, her countenance smooth with no hint of the varied expressions that broadcast her emotions when she wasn’t asleep. He wanted to tweak her nose to see the glare that would follow. Instead he stood and inched his way to his suitcase, slowly picking it up to carry it where he had been sleeping, the only floor space large enough for him to rummage in the bag. When he reached the foot of the bed, she rolled over, opened her eyes, and sat with a look of panic.
“It’s just me. I’m getting my luggage and going to take a shower. Go back to sleep.”
Without a word she flopped back down and shut her eyes.
The shower tube was attractive, but its amenities were the bare bones allowed to economy guests. At home he could stand under pulsating hot water for as long as he desired. Here he was limited to a sixty-second rinse, followed by a mist of biocleanser and another brief sluice of water. It would have to do.
Wearing fresh clothes, he stepped back into the bedroom and pocketed his comm. Patsy was flat on her back. The noise he’d made, including knocking his elbow against the edge of the sink, hadn’t roused her.
The bed sank beneath him when he eased onto it next to her. Relaxed and splayed out, she was tempting. He could slide the covers off and peel her out of those awful pajamas to reveal her long legs and pert breasts. His cock hardened, but it wasn’t in control.
He needed to be careful, to a certain extent because he worried about mishandling this assignment from Randolph, but also because he liked her. Most women reacted to him in one of two ways. They wanted to sleep with the dangerous-looking Dom, or they were afraid of him. Patsy hadn’t acted either way. This was her future, and he didn’t want to wreck things for her.
With his finger barely touching her, he drew a line down her cheek. “Ms. O’Shaughnessy. It’s your wake-up call.”
No response.
“Ms. O’Shaughnessy. Time to get up.” He smoothed his knuckle over her cheek.
Her face crumpled, and she opened her eyes. Her brows knit together. “I don’t remember invitin’ ya to join me on the bed.”
Went to bed snippy. Woke snippy. With a finger tap to her nose, he said, “You didn’t. Time to start the busy day you have planned for me.” He stood, stepped to the door, and looked back at her. “Stop wasting time. Breakfast’s on me, and I’m starving.”
Seated at the table, he pulled out his comm. He needed to clarify things with Randolph. “Rand, I’ve met your Ms. O’Shaughnessy, and she’s a dynamo. Beyond what’s she’s read, she doesn’t have a clue about dominance and submission. You said I was to take care of her as only I can. Am I correct in assuming that means I can engage in some hands-on training, because tha
t’s where this is headed unless you tell me otherwise. Comm me back ASAP.”
When she appeared fifteen minutes later dressed in another sleeveless shirt and short skirt set, this time in a colorful floral fabric, he was surprised at how quick she’d been. Her green-tipped hair had led him to believe she was a primper, but apparently not. She didn’t need to be. Everything about her was fresh, pretty, vibrant, and somehow, freckles and all, far more attractive than the sultry types he usually went for.
A smile wreathed her face. “I hope ya slept well. I know I did. But then I wasn’t on the floor.” She winked at him. “Shall we go? You’re not the only one who’s starvin’. And breakfast is on the Cosmic Cabaret’s owner. Callendra comped me the room, which includes meals in the assigned dinin’ room.”
“I’ll eat twice as much then. You’re in a good mood. New day, fresh beginning?”
“Yes. I was…a little peeved at ya last night, but I realize now ya were just tryin’ to be helpful. Ya didn’t know ya were treadin’ on hazardous ground. Come on.”
Being dragged around by the hand by Patsy was becoming a habit. For now he’d allow it, but if he trained her in submission, it would stop. She rushed around entirely too much. He didn’t.
The cabin door auto locked behind them. “The dinin’ room for this section is down the corridor and to the left.”
Trey followed Patsy through the buffet line, piling food on two plates. They sat at a table for two in the corner.
She eyed his breakfast. “Ya can always go back for seconds.”
“Mmph.” He swallowed the bite of French toast. “I will. This is good.” He noticed that she didn’t talk as much while she was eating. Probably couldn’t, not because her mouth was full but because her hands were busy with her eating utensils.
“I have a question, and I know it’s intrusive, but I think if I get to know you better, I might avoid the hazardous ground you mentioned.”
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