Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection

by G. S. Jennsen

  ALEX GLANCED UP AS he came down the stairs, returned her focus to the aural hovering above the counter—then looked up again.

  It was odd for a minute, seeing him in Malcolm’s clothes. He had a leaner frame, so they hung a bit loosely on him. She had the totally irrational thought that was the way they were supposed to fit.

  He caught her gaze and shrugged, gesturing to the drawstring linen pants and lightweight unbuttoned shirt. “This was all I could find.”

  “I never said they would be ‘fit for the office’ clothes.” She didn’t comment on the fact the shirt did button. One, she was quite certain he knew and simply delighted in torturing her; two, she found she preferred being tortured by…she blinked. “Get down here and I’ll run through what I’ve got so far. You can let me know if you think we need anything else. As fugitives from the law and all.”

  He came over to the bar and rested his forearms on it. “Again, thank you. I never intended to turn you into a fugitive.”

  “Again, not your fault. And it’ll be fine. Probably.”

  “Still, thank you.” His hand reached halfway across the bar, then stopped. It reminded her of the night before they discovered the alien army. Then, she had been glad he hesitated. Now she longed for him to cross the remaining space.

  “I forgive you. Now about the supplies.”

  They spent the next several minutes reviewing their requirements and the supply list she had compiled. He leaned on the long side of the bar near the end, her on the short edge near the dinner table; her aural floated in the air between them. It was comfortable and easy and close, and she was using ninety percent of her energy on not being distracted by his clean, soapy scent, by the loose curls of damp hair falling across his forehead, by the way his voice seemed so much huskier and more lilting than normal. It sounded almost musical.

  He never should have kissed her, dammit. And now she was royally fucked. Except, not actually…. Well.

  Luckily ten percent managed to be enough to get through the list. It mostly consisted of food and new spare parts anyway, seeing as she’d used her previous spare parts repairing her ship after he blew a hole in it and all.

  She killed the aural and straightened up. “Okay, I believe we’ve covered everything. Sorry I didn’t have a chance to get you any clothes. I imagine you’re sick to death of your one outfit by now. But you can take those, and whatever else is up there.”

  His head tilted. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “We’ll stop on the way for the extra food, and we should be able to pick up the spare parts at the spaceport.” She started walking around the bar, and him, toward the small room tucked under the stairwell. “I’m going to hit the storage and grab some—”

  “Alex.” Her name on his voice washed over her, sending shivers to dance on her skin. He had turned, followed her path with his body.

  His hand rested on her upper arm. Gently. A request.

  The surroundings faded to a blur while she, him and the space they inhabited zoomed into hyper-focus, as in a shallow depth-of-field image. And in a blink the last remaining speck of her resistance, tiny though it had been, dissipated away to nothingness.

  In one fluid motion she pivoted, closed the distance between them and brought her hand up to wind in his hair. It was even softer than it looked.

  For one infinite second his eyes met hers. They were open and honest and smoldering with barely restrained desire and so very, very blue. His fingertips slid across her shoulder and up the curve of her neck until his knuckles brushed along her cheek.

  “Damn you.”

  His brow furrowed into an endearingly straight line. “For?”

  “Everything. Kiss me before I lose my mind—”

  —his mouth was on hers—or hers was on his—and it felt as if a dam broke within her, and perhaps within him as well. His lips stole the breath from her lungs; she gasped in his breath to replace it. The hand which had grasped her arm what now seemed hours ago was entwined in her hair, then running over her shoulder, then delicately caressing her jaw.

  Her hand that wasn’t fisted violently in his hair slinked inside the borrowed shirt. As her fingertips brushed across his ribs he trembled beneath her touch. When he nipped her lower lip in pleasure she grinned and continued on, tickling his skin on the way to the small of his back.

  Then everything was tongues and teeth and stolen breaths and arms pulling bodies closer. Her head spun madly from the overload of sheer physical sensation. His skin was a wonder beneath her palm, but she couldn’t focus on it for the spectacular feel of his lips on hers, the taste of his tongue—

  He still tasted like cinnamon and honey, even after the shower. Delicious.

  —his hand at her waist tugged the shirt from her pants and immediately dipped beneath it and ran up her spine. She responded by crushing her mouth into his, as though brute force might bring him closer.

  Eventually he pulled away a fraction to suck in air and shifted her so her back was to the bar. His body pinned her against it, again with greater strength than she would have imagined. And dear god but it wasn’t enough. Her hand slid down to his ass and gripped him tighter against her; his hardness pressed into her, just left of where she urgently wanted it to be.

  He moaned into her mouth, a deep, rough tremor of carnal need.

  She tore her lips from his and across his jaw to his ear. “Upstairs….” It was little more than a breath.

  In an instant he had pulled her from the bar, dropped both hands to her hips and hoisted her up into his arms.

  “Your wish is my very enthusiastic command.” His voice sounded deeper and rougher yet somehow even more musical but definitely not nearly so controlled now.

  She gasped in delight and wound her legs around his waist with a slightly wild laugh. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he began not-so-carefully carrying her toward the staircase. She occupied herself with his earlobe, his neck, his exquisitely defined jaw, whatever she could reach.

  He maneuvered the first few stairs like they were second nature—surprisingly, seeing as he’d traversed them all of twice and her hair spilled over his face—but she must have distracted him too much, because at the midway landing he slammed her against the wall and his mouth against hers. One leg slid to the floor; he maintained a solid grip on the other.

  It was her turn to moan as he crashed into her. God he wasn’t wearing any underwear…he would be washing them, of course. Freed of needing to hang on to him, she shoved the shirt off his shoulders. Her voice escaped into free air as his lips trailed down her neck to the hollow of her throat. “This isn’t upstairs….”

  He let go of her long enough to shake the sleeve off. This left the shirt hanging on nothing but his other wrist, which still grasped her leg firmly on his hip. His hand returned to snake up her stomach, her own shirt bunching in its wake.

  “It’s up some stairs….” The words vibrated on her collarbone as his tongue teased along it.

  She gave a ragged laugh and dragged her other leg free to coax him toward the remaining stairs by nothing more than the threat of physical separation. His shirt fell unnoticed to the landing as hers disappeared over her head.

  Support had been woven into her top, and their chests were now skin-on-skin. The sensation of his chest pressed to hers was…was…‘pleasant’ was clearly too weak a word. A pittance to describe a treasure.

  She cursed having to divert a miniscule portion of her attention to feel her way up the stairway backwards. A few more stairs. Only a few mo— her legs weakened as his thumb ran over then lingered upon a nipple, and she sank down short of the bedroom landing.

  The tiny corner of her brain which managed to continue functioning at a minimal level of rationality noted his hand slid behind her head before it hit the top stair to take the jarring blow for her. Later, she should think about what a shocking act of kindness and sacrifice it was. Yup, lat—

  —his mouth was on her left breast and his tongue was swir
ling around the nipple, suckling it right to the edge of pain while a thumb teased the other, and she thought her eyes probably rolled back in her head.

  “Yebat’sya mne….”

  His lips ghosted down her chest toward her navel with a throaty chuckle. “It would be my genuine pleasure.”

  The words fluttered over her skin to send a fierce shiver coursing through her, though his accent now rolled so alluringly thick she could barely understand him at all. She didn’t care and oh how she wanted him to keep going…. Her spine arched, begging for him to keep going, but her fingernails scratched up his back and tugged him up to her until his mouth again crushed hers.

  He was acting as if he was the one in control, yet happy to indulge her every request. She considered making a mental note for possible future reference, but got horribly distracted by his tongue halfway through.

  In a supreme act of will she slid up the final two stairs and shakily stood with him.

  Instantly her hands dropped to his waist and yanked the drawstring loose; the pants fell to the floor unaided. She tried to pull his naked form to her, but his hands were in the way, busy sliding her own pants over her hips. Hers were snugger and clingy and she wasted two precious seconds shimmying them and her underwear together to the floor.

  Finally there existed nothing between them. For a perfect moment he held her next to him. She could feel every long, taut muscle, his racing heartbeat reverberating beneath his skin. She’d never known his pulse to race. He was so warm. It felt sublime and luscious and laced with an unexpected throbbing in her chest.

  She looked up—it wasn’t far, he wasn’t terribly much taller than her—and willingly fell into the ocean of his eyes.

  The back of her knees hit the bed. She curled one leg up and sank onto it, bringing him with her as if they were one.

  With astonishing gentleness he slipped inside her, and they were.

  She wondered if her eyes widened as much as his did, lips a mere centimeter apart, her hands clutching his face and his clutching hers.

  “Jesus, you—”

  Her mouth smothered his as she scraped a hand down his back and drew him all the way into her. The momentary tenderness melted, burnt away by the scorching passion which flared.

  She thought she must have been with someone who was more beautifully passionate, more naturally in sync with her every movement and desire, who more perfectly fit within and around and against her, and later she would doubtless recall who it might have been. But damned if she could think of anyone now.

  She arched into his grasp to meet his movements…on second thought, it suddenly seemed impossible there ever could have been.

  At some point his arms coiled around her and he rose up to rest on his heels as her full weight slid down over him. Oh my god….

  Her fingers wound fiercely in his hair while the other hand ran along his back as her legs wrapped to envelop him. His hands mirrored hers, until one settled on her hip. It began to smoothly guide her, yet he let her set the pace…and the last remnants of the outside world, of time passing at all, blurred out of existence.

  Her lips hovered a whisper apart from his, every so often connecting for a fervent yet somehow gentle kiss, as they exchanged the air necessary to continue living and feeling and experiencing this. Gradually the pressure began to intensify within her until she feared she would surely shatter—

  —she buried her face into his neck and screamed, every measure of her tightening around him in a tidal wave of ecstasy.

  Then she was falling back onto the bed and he was consuming her with a fervency and passion absolutely like nothing she had ever felt. His body was fire on her skin, his breath desperate in her ear, his hands everywhere and—

  —she gasped into his shoulder as he carried her with him on his own torrent of ecstasy. His face was tangled in her hair and his arms had encircled her to hold her against him as if she was the only lifeline he possessed, but it was okay because his embrace was warm and wonderful and….

  By the time she remembered how to breathe, he was planting feather-light kisses along her cheek, across her jaw and down her neck. Her eyes slowly focused to find him gazing at her, wearing an expression of…unfettered, almost innocent pleasure. It was so striking her newly found breath caught in her throat.

  After untold moments—hours, days—he rolled them both onto their sides. They lay facing one another, panting slightly but grinning like fools.

  She giggled devilishly. “You shouldn’t have kissed me in the confinement cell.”

  “Yes, I quite clearly should have.”

  Her head shook minutely; it was all she was able to manage in his embrace. “No, you shouldn’t have. You should have kissed me on the ship night before last.”

  He responded with a winded laugh. “You say that now, but if I had then, I might still be tied up on the ship.”

  His accent had again faded, she noticed in some disappointment. “You said I wouldn’t be able to get you back in the restraints.”

  “I did, but that was before I knew you. Now, I’m not so sure.” He kissed her, long and slow, then sighed in contentment and rolled the rest of the way onto his back. “This is going to be complicated, you know.”

  She propped up on an elbow and regarded him curiously. “What is? I assumed this was merely a one-time stress reliever, or maybe a ‘thank you’ for getting you out of confinement.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched, as if uncertain of which direction to curve. A shadow passed through his eyes as they darted to her then away, darkening them to the color of the ocean depths where no light reached.

  She quickly smiled, broadly enough to get his attention. “And the look in your eyes tells me it isn’t.”

  His face scrunched up in disbelief as realization dawned. “I thought I was supposed to be the devious one.”

  “Oh, you are, you are.” She placed a soft kiss on his lips; he didn’t respond. She pulled back to meet his gaze. “Forgive me for being wary.”

  A chuckle escaped his throat, but it had a sharp, pained edge to it, reinforced by the shadow lingering in his expression. “You still don’t trust me.”

  She coaxed his eyes to meet hers. “I trust you with my life.” And she did. She kissed him more deeply, and after a pause this time he did respond.

  I just don’t know if I trust you with my heart.

  It was several relatively blissful minutes later when he sank into the bed and she settled onto her stomach beside him. “So about this ‘complicated’ part….”

  “I’m from Seneca, you’re from Earth. We’re practically Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Nah, as I remember it Romeo and Juliet gave a damn what everyone else thought. Hell, we’ve got more pressing concerns anyway. The galaxy has embroiled itself in an idiotic, pointless war, and any day now a massive alien force is going to show up and crash the party.”

  She groaned and rolled over to glare at the ceiling. “And even if we get somebody to listen, who says we’ll be able to counter them? I have a sneaking suspicion their weapons will be a tad more powerful than ours.”

  His fingers drew idle circles along her stomach, tickling the damp skin and momentarily drawing her into the rather pleasurable present…but only momentarily. “Maybe if we presented a united front—but no, instead we’re busy blowing up the ships and weapons and defenses we’ll need to fight the aliens on each other.”

  At the sobering reality they both fell quiet for a while. Finally she took a deep breath and exhaled audibly to break the silence. “So I was thinking. We should go to Pyxis. I know it’s a bit far, but it’s the closest independent world to Seneca other than Pandora, which I’d really prefer to avoid. You can leave from there and hopefully find a way for your government to end this war, since we failed so impressively here.”

  He rose up on one arm to stare at her. “Come to Seneca with me. You can explain the Metis data better than I can and help convince them of the severity of the problem. Like you said, two voice
s are better than one.”

  “Oh, you’re not seriously going to use that argument on me now?”

  “What? Other considerations aside, it isn’t a bad point, and we need every advantage we can get.”

  She flinched and rolled away. “I don’t…I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “It’ll be fine. I promise you won’t get arrested.”

  “Yes, because your government is a pillar of right and justice and good.”

  “Of course not. It just so happens you’re not an enemy combatant.”

  Why couldn’t he let it go for the moment? Give her a little time to come to grips with the idea? A few hours earlier she had been defending the Senecans to her mother and the Board. Now she was recoiling at the notion of visiting their damn planet, as though it was somehow a corporeal evil all its own. Which of course it wasn’t, but….

  “I said I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

  He exhaled in obvious frustration. “Come on. Help me make them listen.”

  She refused to meet his gaze this time. Goddammit. “I need to take a shower.” She started to get up, but he reached out and grabbed ahold of her arm.

  “Look, I know you hold no particular love for Seneca or its government. I know you blame them for your father’s death. I get that, I do. But I also know you want—”

  Stop! Stop acting as if you can stare into my soul so easily! The detached, untethered sensation washed over her once again. She had thought perhaps she might hold onto him as an anchor, but now he was pushing and prodding and behaving as if it were all so simple…she yanked her arm out of his grasp.

  “You think a week together and a quick roll in the sack means you know me? I realize you’re cocky, but please. You don’t know the first thing about me.”

  She shot him a withering glare and stalked off to the bath, lightheaded to the point of dizziness from whiplashing emotions. No, it wasn’t simple at all.

  Caleb banged his head against the bedcovers. In a rush of frustration he grabbed a pillow and threw it angrily across the room; it bounced ineffectually off the wall and tumbled gently to the floor.