A little voice inside her head suggested that maybe she was the one who’d become comfortable with him. The idea startled her. Except for Parker, who’d worked at it for years, she rarely let her guard down around a man, or anyone for that matter. Okay, so she’d agreed to open the door and let him in. She simply hadn’t realized how far beyond a kiss he’d take it. Or she’d let him take it.
She circled behind him. At ease or not, he was a solidly built man. The sleek contour of his leggings accentuated the ripple of muscle along the length of his extended thigh. Her hand dropped down and oh-so slowly her fingers traced a lazy pattern along his leg. Even through the fabric his body was hot to the touch.
“My hair, Myrina.”
His tight, slightly sardonic command made her laugh. Gave her a heady sense of power. Her simple touch affected him. Unable to resist, she caressed his arm next, smoothing the already taut cloth of his shirt.
“I’m getting there,” she whispered next to his ear and thought she heard an answering groan.
“What’s your assessment, Doctor?” His voice sounded hoarse, belying the casualness of his question.
She spoke her mind, blunt as always. “The braid doesn’t suit you,” she said. With his hair pulled back, his exotic features looked too stark.
A rough laugh rumbled out of him. “Then undo it,” he said.
Pure temptation. Which was odd because she couldn’t ever remember being this fascinated with a man’s hair before.
Without hesitation, her hands unraveled the twist of beaded strands that held his hair fast. Starting at the narrow end she then began releasing the skeins. Liquid fire threaded its way through her fingers and brushed against the sensitive underside of her wrist. She shivered and her breath hitched in her throat as she bit back a moan of pleasure. The man might have a sexy-as-sin body, but his hair was truly gorgeous.
She reveled in the gloriously sensual feel of the coppery strands that came alive under her touch. This kind of play was downright decadent. Unwinding the last of the bonds, she gathered his hair in her two hands and then set it free. A glittering waterfall cascaded down across her palms and she frowned.
Tied tightly together, Judan’s hair had appeared a sleek column of deep red, but this close she thought she noticed an entirely different shading. Separating a thick lock of hair, she held it close. She blinked in frustration, but it was no use. Her eyes, the lights in the lab, something must be playing a trick on her brain because she could swear she saw golden-brown strands interspersed with the copper ones in Judan’s hair.
“Don’t ever tame your hair again,” she said, smoothing her hands through the silky locks. “I like it better loose.”
He shook his head.
“Don’t move.” Carefully she untangled her fingers.
He chuckled. “I didn’t realize a human woman could be so contradictory.”
She swatted his shoulder. “Then you regret taking up with one?” she asked, only half joking.
She didn’t even see him move. One minute she was behind him, the next she was on his lap and in his arms. Caught off guard, she yelped and her arms locked around his neck. Heat radiated off him in waves that crashed over her. The faint odor of alam bark teased her senses and her entire body tightened in anticipation.
“What do you think?” he asked, glaring down at her.
Actually it was more of a stare, because his eyes were focused on her lips, making her mouth go dry. Or maybe it was the naked desire surfacing from those green depths that mesmerized her. This close to him, her insides liquefied and she very nearly melted against him. Only the severest willpower kept her upright.
“I, ah, think this seems vaguely familiar,” she said. Damn right it did. She’d told him hands off and he’d promptly found a way to put his hands back on her.
He shook his head. His tousled hair framed his face, softening the intensity of his gaze. He was assessing her again, or at least her statement, with great seriousness. “I don’t think so.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I would have remembered this.” He palmed her ass and hoisted her a
She gasped at the heated brush of his fingers across her belly.
“But I do remember this,” he said and settled his big hand over her breast, confined in her lacy “unmentionable”. She wasn’t sure, because her eyes were kind of out of focus, but she thought he had a superior masculine grin on his face. little higher in his lap. Right on top of his erection.
Her eyes widened at his audacity, but she stayed where he’d put her.
“And this.” His hand slid over the curve of her hip and ducked under her shirt.
Barely swallowing the next gulp of air, she nodded. She remembered, too. His hands made her body go crazy.
Gently, he massaged her breast. At first the rhythmic squeezes lulled her into a pleasant sense of lassitude. So much so that she was caught unawares when a fine line of sweet fire coiled itself through her body from her breasts to her pussy. Lazily, his finger flicked back and forth across her nipple until it peaked. The tension tightened inside her and she squirmed, her butt rubbing against his engorged cock.
He growled and the green in his eyes heated another degree. Hot enough to burn.
“Judan.”
She never got the chance to say another word beyond his name. His thumb stroked the bare curve of her breast and slid over the lace. Then he clamped her stiff nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
A heady dose of desire slammed through her and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. He shook his head, increasing the pressure just enough. With a tiny whimper of pleasure, her body arced towards him, begging for more. He obliged, twisting the nub and sending another signal flare straight to her womb. Convulsively, her fingers clutched the strands of hair she’d so recently freed.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Show me everything, Little Warrior. I definitely remember your responses.”
She could barely breathe, let alone think, yet she remembered, too. “What about your responses?”
His supporting arm gripped her waist before she could so much as wiggle. She frowned her displeasure. He definitely needed a lesson in cooperative play. The suggestion died on her lips when she met his feral stare.
“Don’t.” The command was a bare whisper of breath between them.
It was on the tip of her tongue to argue when he shook his head.
“Please,” he ground out the single word as if it cost him a measure of pride. “One more move and I’ll explode.”
He was not feeding her a line. She didn’t know why this articulate thought intruded in the midst of sensual incoherency, but it did. And she trusted it. And him. In fact, she respected him all the more for admitting such a weakness where she was concerned.
“Okay,” she whispered, caressing the back of his neck to ease the tension there. “But you need to slow down, too.”
His eyes closed and he drew in a deep, shuddering breath. In the next instant his hand left her breast to settle on the curve of her hip. Far enough away not to cause havoc, but close enough to still disturb her presence of mind because he made sure his hand remained under her shirt, maintaining the skin-on-skin contact.
Eyes open now, he was back to studying her. Was he wondering whether she was wet for him, or did he know? Could he smell her scent? She licked her bottom lip, teasing it between her teeth while she waited.
“I remember,” he said. “I remember this.”
He didn’t give her time to think before he bent his head. After all their fiery passion, his lips felt like cool drops of rain against her mouth. The sensation and the promise of more were brief. Before she truly had time to taste him and savor the unique flavor of man mixed with coffee, he retreated.
“Judan?”
His lips brushed against her forehead. “I think it’s best if we talk.”
The request was so unexpected she fell against his chest in a fit of giggles.
His back stiffened in surprise.
After a moment of pained silence, he asked. “This is funny?”
“Yes,” she said. “And it will certainly slow things down.”
Since he didn’t object, she kept her head where it was and wrapped one arm around his waist. The other hand followed a trail of skin past the collar of his shirt and down the seam, coming to rest in the region of his heart.
“Not if you’re going to do that.”
“Shh, unless you want to remove your hand from my person, again.”
His thumb drew lazy circles on her skin. “No.” His whisper was decidedly emphatic.
“Didn’t think so,” she muttered, nestling closer. He made a very comfortable pillow. She stifled a yawn, not surprising since she’d woken early and hadn’t had much sleep the night before.
For someone who’d wanted to talk he didn’t seem to have much else to say to her after that. Beneath her, Judan’s body felt warm and solid, enveloping her with a sense of safety. The whole experience was a novelty. Cuddling was something she’d never really done before, yet Myrina was strangely content to sit in silence, nestled in this man’s arms. Despite growing up with two hundred other children and care-workers at the orphanage, intimacy had been in short supply. And love had been practically nonexistent.
Love. Now where had that word come from?
Next to “I want you”, the three little words “I love you” had haunted her dreams for years. Still did a time or two, though she’d never met them in real life.
Oh, she loved her work, no doubt about it. Then there was Parker. Every few months or so, the rumor mills at TLC would churn out yet another speculative piece on her “affair” with Parker, or his with her, depending on who was doing the talking. What no one seemed capable of understanding was, yes she loved Parker and he loved her, but like a brother and a sister would. Yet, nice as they were, neither kind of love was the one she’d ever spent time building daydreams about.
Then, eight years ago she’d come face-to-face with a cold, hard reality that didn’t care one bit about dreams or hopes or a wayward, unpredictable emotion called love. Some people were meant to find it, have it, give it. For Myrina it remained an elusive dream.
Her hand dipped lower. Judan had such fine skin. Except for the two lines of scarring it was as soft as she imagined a newborn baby’s to be.
What would it be like to love this man?
Pretty damn dangerous. After one relatively short lesson, he’d learned her skin. Gotten under it, too. That scared the shit out of her. Primarily because she wasn’t quite certain how he’d done it. Though she did know one thing for sure. The way the heat sizzled between them, she was playing with fire. Trouble was, now that she’d touched a living flame, she didn’t want to stop. Wasn’t sure she could.
“Myrina.” Judan’s rough voice rumbled over her head as he drew another couple of circles on her belly. “Why were you talking out loud to yourself earlier when I came into the lab?”
Shit. Myrina’s pleasant lethargy evaporated the instant the question mark appeared at the end of his inquiry and she shot to a sitting position. The L-word be damned along with her raging hormones. The Dakokatan Ktua Judan Ringa wasn’t just dangerous to her senses, he was positively lethal to her peace of mind.
True to his stubborn, persistent hide, Judan only let her get so far. His arms encircled her in a steely grip, meant to steady her and keep her in her place. On his lap. While he waited patiently for her answer.
“None of your damn business,” she said, her defensive shields dropping swiftly into place. She suppressed a shiver, the heat from the bare, skin-on-skin contact having cooled to subzero-degree temperatures.
A swarm of bees took up residence in her stomach, buzzing angrily. There was no way in the collective hells of whatever cultures you wanted to pick that she was going to tell Judan what had happened to her eight years ago. A jumble of memories surfaced along with one clear thought. Judan wasn’t just stubborn, on this he would be inflexible.
“If it helps,” he said, “I’m guessing it has something to do with your anxiety attacks.”
Slowly she nodded, grasping at the one fact he already knew.
She might owe him an explanation, but maybe, just maybe, she could keep her secrets while telling him a truth of sorts. What had happened to her was her own business, no matter what Judan said. Next to Fenton deMorriss and a couple of doctors, Parker was the only one who knew, and that was because he’d been the one to give her the bad news.
“It’s called self-talk therapy,” she finally admitted, once her stomach had settled down and she could think more rationally. “My psychiatrist taught me how.”
He nodded without breaking his intense stare. “You are seeing a…a head doctor?”
“You mean a shrink. And no. Not anymore.”
“A shrink.” He muttered the word to himself, undoubtedly memorizing it. “Yet you still have anxiety attacks.”
“Yes,” she said. “This self-talk therapy is a way of controlling them.”
“Is it working, or do I need to distract you, again?”
Incredulous, her mouth fell open. “What?”
He shrugged and pulled her a little closer. “You are the scientist,” he said. “You tell me which is more effective. This self-talk therapy or…”
“You?” she asked, realizing with a sense of relief he was satisfied with her explanation. That he did not want to know more.
“Exactly,” he said and kissed her.
Several minutes or hours later, she wasn’t sure which, the door of the lab swished open. She paid no attention, her focus totally on the man holding her in his arms. Except he must have heard it too because he raised his head slightly. A moment later a loud cough cut through her sensual haze. The noise sounded totally fake and filled with embarrassment at having caught them in an intimate act.
Damn. “Tell whoever it is we don’t want any.”
Judan chuckled. “Whoever is already in the room, Little Warrior.”
“So? That’s the point, maybe they’ll leave.”
“I don’t think he wants to.”
Well crap. Three guesses who it was. Surreptitiously, Myrina peered over Judan’s shoulder before settling back against his chest. She’d been perfectly comfortable and totally distracted, thank you, and resented the intrusion.
“It’s your brother,” she said.
Chapter Seven
Judan shifted his position on the stool to better shelter Myrina from Vand’s view. With her rumpled hair, slightly wrinkled shirt and swollen lips she looked like a woman who’d been well-kissed. And while her responsiveness to his touch and his lips pleased him immensely, causing his shaft to strain against the confines of his leggings, he had no wish to cause her further embarrassment.
Still using his large body as a shield, he set her on the floor, where she immediately started straightening her outfit. Her neck and face had turned a dull shade of red and he regretted his brother’s lack of judgment. But he hadn’t come this far in his career not to recognize when it was best to confront a problem. And, at this moment, Vand was the problem he had to deal with.
“I am sorry, Myrina,” he said, pitching his voice low so his words would remain private between them.
She glanced up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “Why? You can’t help it if your brother has lousy timing.”
Yes, there was no denying Vand had, as she said, “lousy timing”, but she was wrong in her other assessment. He could help it. And right here, right now, Judan was going to do just that.
“I mean,” he said, caressing her cheek, “that I am sorry I have to end our time together so abruptly to deal with Vand. We will finish this later.”
She licked her lips and flashed him a sultry smile. “Which, our discussion or the kiss?”
“What do you think?” he asked with an answering grin before turning to face his brother.
“You will apologize to Dr. deCarte for barging into the lab,” he said. “Your quarrel is with me, not
her.”
Vand had always been brash, but since Lorre’s death, he’d subtly challenged Judan at every turn. At first, Judan had believed his brother was suffering from acute grief. Vand was the more emotional of the two, and the one closer to Lorre in age.
“Like hell I will. I sat there and listened. We all sat in the mess room and listened to what the good doctor had to say about Lorre. And then I realized you hadn’t told her,” Vand said.
“Told me what?” Myrina asked before Judan could respond.
“About Lorre,” Vand said.
“The dead Outposter?” Myrina turned to Judan. “What is your brother talking about?”
“Our brother is lying dead on a slab in the clinic across the hall.” Vand’s tone was dark with anger. “But the Captain didn’t tell you that, did he, Dr. deCarte?”
“Lorre is your brother?” she asked, stepping closer to face him, turning her back on Vand. “Why didn’t you tell me the other day in Fenton’s office?”
Judan placed a thumb against her lips, silencing her. “Leave it, Myrina. I’ll explain later,” he said. The pain of the loss still circled like a vulture above his heart. Until now he’d managed to mourn in private and do what he had to do in public to keep the rest of the Outposters alive.
No more. Vand’s rash behavior had exposed their grief, forcing him to face it head on. But he would not subject Myrina to the hostility festering like an open wound between them. Abruptly he turned to his brother. “We’re leaving. Turn around and walk out that door before you say something you regret.”
“Like hell I will,” Vand yelled and charged, cursing loudly in both Dakokatan and English.
Judan made no attempt to block the attack or protect himself. His single thought was to safeguard Myrina. He shoved her out of the way seconds before Vand’s body checked him, ramming him backwards.
He let his body go slack to absorb the blow. They still hit the counter with the force of a rampaging wild ox. The impact momentarily knocked the wind out of both of them and sent the machine Myrina had been using skidding across the counter. It hit the wall with a resounding bang.
Love Partner Page 10
