by Imogene Nix
“Barsha! But you’re so beautiful, Jem. I just want to touch you, to be with you.” His voice was gravelly, and his eyes glittered.
He laid a hand against her face, and she noted that it shook; his breathing was as ragged as hers. They waited a minute with an arm around each other until they settled once more. He lifted her and carried her to his office and sitting room off his cabin. The blues he’d used to cover the functional gray calmed her, and she realized with a start that the rug, and even the picture frames, were the same blue-violet as her eyes.
“Wow! What a great room.”
“Yeah, I find it relaxes me.” He smiled as he sat her on the sofa, pulled a crocheted blanket down over her legs, then muscled in behind her. “Vid screen, play options.”
The unit ran through a number of choices as they sat together, his hand holding hers. When they decided on a movie, he gave the command, and the movie began. The whole time, though, she was aware of Raven sitting so close beside her. He held her hand, and she sat uncomfortably aware that this was the first time she had sat like this with a man, in harmony without the focus on sex.
Most of her previous relationships had been quick with lots of immediate passion, but with her no-forever policy, she’d kept them very basic and essentially unemotional. This was uncertain territory, and she was at a loss as to how to deal with it.
After the movie finished, they sat for a while in silence. During the movie, he’d managed to wind his arms around her middle as she leaned against him. She lay back, savoring the closeness and warmth, all the while her mind reminding her heart not to get too involved. It was hard to forget the safety she felt in his arms.
“The first time I saw you, spitting fire and throwing a hell of a tantrum, I never would have imagined this,” he whispered into her ear. He laughed, and the rumble of his chest was shockingly sensuous. She turned to look back at him.
“You know, I wasn’t exactly at my best.”
“Perhaps not by your standards, but by Eshra, you were certainly sexy in that get-up you had on. Those heels made you look like you had legs up to your armpits, and the red made you look so hot.” He grinned.
She swooped in, did not even attempt to check herself, and kissed him hard. His mouth opened to accept the sexual kiss, lips and tongue tantalizing them both. Each laugh had sent shocks of emotion zinging through her body, and she just needed him—now. She stretched further upward, increasing the pressure, and the kiss turned wild.
His hands shifted between them, moving up to cup her aching breasts, and she pushed into them. A throb began low down in her belly, the hard curl of heated desire flowing through her body as the need grew. He kissed her, grace forgotten, as he roughly thrust his tongue into her mouth as if seeking everything in her soul until he pulled away, panting.
She gripped his hands, still kneading, arching into them, then let go of one to lift her fingers to his face. “More” was all she said, her voice low and throbbing, and he gasped.
He tore his hands away from her. He got up and moved away from her reach. The redness of his face and the tightly curled hands told her how hard he fought.
“No, Jem. You aren’t ready yet, and neither am I.” His voice was hard, gravelly with the desire he warred against.
“Well, I would certainly beg to differ there.” She cast a glance toward his groin.
“Jem, don’t make this harder than it is.”
“Do you reckon it could? Get harder, I mean?” She knew her eyes sparkled as she grinned, and the flush of her skin had to let him know exactly what she wanted, how she burned for his touch.
“Jemma, please don’t push this now. I want to build a relationship with you. But we need time to let it grow.” He moved forward and reached an entreating hand toward her. His eyes told a different story though. He wanted her, and now. She could see it in his face and the way he held his body tightly controlled.
She rose from the seat gracelessly. “Raven, I want this and you want this. Here we are, with time we wouldn’t normally have. I don’t want our first time to be rushed and hurried, with you going one way and me the other. Right? Please?”
“Come with me.” He scooped her up and strode to the darkened room beyond.
Jemma didn’t look at the bedroom, instead she moved toward him with her hands outstretched, and it was as if a switch turned. He groaned, moved forward and grabbed her, pulled her closer. His mouth descended hard—demanding—hot. Devouring her with his passion.
She twined her arms behind his head, grabbing his hair and holding him there. She opened her mouth to his. His hands grabbed her bottom, molding her so close to him.
God help her, she moved against him, matching his body plane for plane while the tingles within her became a roaring fire. His hands shot to her suit, ripping open the buttons as hers reached for his, tearing at the cloth. Soft pops sounded as his buttons flew to the floor, tearing from his uniform. Once she had his suit open, she touched his chest, and he stilled, ripping his mouth from hers, sucking in a deep breath.
She smiled. “Like that, do you, grease boy?”
“Oh yeah. But not as much as you’re going to like this,” he countered. His hands found her breasts through her serviceable white cotton bra and pushed away the cups.
He touched her skin, and it was her turn to gasp at the sensation of his hands against her bare flesh. Her nipples tightened almost painfully, and he cupped her breasts, flicking them with his thumbs. His mouth found the sensitive skin at her neck and nuzzled. Her head was thrown back as she lost herself in the whirl of emotions that zinged like lightning through her body.
“Oh God, Raven,” she moaned.
She pushed blindly against his chest, once the bed dipped below her. She needed to feel the warmth of his body, rubbed her hands up and down his chest. Jemma was pleased to find it smooth and hairless, while she slid her fingertips over his exposed flesh. He muttered a curse against her skin while letting go of her and stripped the rest of her clothing off her.
He kissed and laved each inch revealed with his magic mouth. She was mindless by the time he had her naked upon the bed. She writhed beneath his knowing fingers as they trailed over her nude body.
He sat back on his heels as she opened her eyes, reached for him, and pushed the open jacket off his shoulders. She reached down and opened the snaps on his pants. “My turn,” she whispered, slowly crawling to her knees. Her fingers fumbled, and he brushed them away and looked at her, the blue of his eyes so deep she felt she would probably drown.
“Be sure that this is what you want with me, Jemma, because Eshra knows if we go any further I won’t be able to stop.”
She stilled at his husky words. Once more she reached toward him.
He stopped her fingers. “I love you, Jem. I have since the first moment I saw you, but I won’t settle for anything less than forever. I want everything with you.” His voice was filled with an emotion she shied away from.
“Raven, I want this now, with you.” She looked at him and watched his face cloud with disbelief and hurt.
“Do you, Jem? Do you want the emotion or just the sex? If you want everything with me, then I want to be here with you. However, I get the feeling you just want the brief, quick high. That isn’t enough for me.” He looked at her, and she got the uncanny feeling he was reading her mind, seeing the truths she tried to hide from herself.
“Raven...I want what I can have with you.” She faltered, seeking the words to tell him that she wanted the emotional experience for the short while she knew this would last. An ache started somewhere in her chest. Couldn’t he see she was giving him everything she had in her? Her heart splintered, realizing he was going to leave her. You’re such a coward. Give in and you might find forever.
“No, Jemma. It isn’t enough for me.” He backed away and turned around, his face and eyes distant. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.” Then he left her naked and empty in the cold room.
Chapter 8
Raven waited f
or Jemma in the sitting area, listening. His heart beat like a drum as he thought over his actions in the bedroom. The one woman he had dreamed of lying naked on his bed and he’d walked out.
Barsha! He wasn’t sure if it was his not-so-hard-earned reputation that made her wary of a commitment to him or something deep within her throwing up the walls, but at this stage, it was taking every ounce of his willpower not to go in there, stop her from dressing, and throw her down on the bed to make delicious love to her.
His mind told him that showing her exactly how much he wanted her would only reinforce the temporary nature of their connect. “I won’t do that to us.” He stood still, straining to hear the sound of footsteps entering his living area.
The leash he held tight, the determination to do the right thing, was the merest thread—fragile and ethereal. If he gave in to his desire, then he’d never be sure that the commitment to him was lifelong and enduring.
No, he needed to wait for her to catch up to his level of devotion to her. Still, his arousal hurt, his body aching with unfulfilled desire. His heart beat in his chest hard and fast, his body warm from hers—not to mention the taste of her on his mouth lingered, reminding him of what he’d walked away from.
He looked at his wrist chrono, all the while listening for the rustle of clothing, straining...nothing. Silence. The time increased, and he broke, turning in the direction of the sleeping area, cracking open the door. Knocked. No response from within.
He knocked again, and this time his pulse rate increased, but not due to arousal. He entered the room, and instantly he knew it was empty. She’d left. He checked the sanitary unit, but it was also empty. Barsha! She was gone. She’d found the other door from his suite.
He kicked the bed in frustration. “This was not how I planned for the day to go.”
He’d wanted to show her that they could be together, get to know one another, without sex getting in the way until they both wanted the same thing—the lifetime commitment he craved with her.
He wanted her to enter into communion with him. He knew she understood the concept; after all, not only had Duvall married Mellissa—and what an archaic concept that was—but they had also communed, the accepted contractual understanding that was lifelong and binding.
He stalked back into his sitting room, throwing himself upon the seat where they had sat in companionable ease not so long ago. Now what do I do? How will she react if I go after her? Should I give her time to think the relationship thing over? He dropped his head into his hands as his eyes closed.
He sat there a long time.
* * * *
Jemma hurried back to her cabin, thankful that she didn’t see anyone she knew on the way. She was upset, stomach churning over what had transpired in Raven’s cabin. She knew he didn’t understand that she wasn’t a keeper. Why didn’t I just think before opening my mouth? The minute she thought that, though, she answered herself. Even a short-term relationship deserved honesty from the outset. Sure, she hadn’t intended to hurt him—there was a quality to Raven that she couldn’t help wanting to be close to—but he wanted forever, and she just couldn’t do that to him.
“I told him up front.” Why didn’t he see?
Her leg still hurt as she moved quickly and silently down the corridor. At her cabin she palmed the reader and was grateful that soon she’d be returning to the Star of Ishtar.
“I’m such a failure!” Her life was one disaster after another. Right now she’d fucked up any chance of a relationship with Raven and had to account for her missing craft.
She sat down to begin tapping out her report for Vors, who would no doubt carpet her for losing her ship. Jemma didn’t query her need to get busy, all she focused on was the activity which kept her mind from dwelling on yet another mistake. The words blurred before her, so Jemma closed her eyes, letting the silence balance her, but for once, it didn’t work.
The silence stretched, and the bone-deep loneliness she worked hard to ignore seeped into her pores. “I have a lot of experience of that.” The ache in her chest was sharp, and biting her lip, she stifled the sobs that wanted to erupt.
Perhaps she should start thinking about what options would be open to her, in case Vors decided she was a liability and the disciplinary action included a discharge. Her throat clogged, but she’d never been one to ignore reality, so Jemma kept on considering her choices. Better to prepare for the worst, she told herself, and went back to working on her report.
She unwound fingers that had instinctively curled and noted the crescent-shaped indentations that her nails had left in her palms. Deep breaths, close eyes, and think! Concentrate on what you are, how you’re strong and resourceful. The mantra didn’t work as it usually did, but she opened her eyes, straightened her shoulders, and forced back the tears.
* * * *
Over the next few days, Raven tried many times to engage Jemma through meals, appointments with Elara, and even going so far as to appeal to Mellissa for help. Nothing worked. Each time he contacted Jemma via desk screen, he found she either dodged the contact or had already eaten, been wherever, or was busy completing a task.
By the end of the third day, he was climbing the walls in frustration. He had reached his last chance, the day before she returned to active duty, and he needed to find some sort of resolution to the empty limbo he inhabited. He trudged up to Elara’s office, formulating plans as to how he could breach the wall Jemma had built around her heart.
The door whooshed open ahead of him, and he looked up to see Jemma leaving the office. He watched as she bade Elara goodbye and turned. She obviously hadn’t seen him, and he waited quietly until the door closed behind her.
“Jem, is everything okay?”
“Raven! You startled me!” Her hand rose to her throat as she stepped back.
“Sorry about that. But I’m glad I ran into you. Join me for a coffee?”
“Well, you know, I’m trying to put the final touches on my report before the meeting...” Her voice trailed off as she looked at him.
“We really need to talk, and sooner is much better than later. Come on. We’ll go to my office, where we can’t be disturbed.” He grasped her arm, not giving her a chance to argue as he propelled her forward. The muscles of her arm tensed beneath his hands, and he thanked every deity he could think of that the chance to fix this mess had come his way. The whole time he was aware that she had not answered his first question.
“I really don’t—”
He steered her toward the door of his office and swiped his palm. “No, I know you don’t, but we can’t continue like this. This is such a small ship and we need to be able to work together without you feeling the need to avoid me.”
He worked to keep his voice calm. The words he’d practiced in the last twelve hours slipped easily from his tongue. Jemma relaxed as she moved away from him, nodding. She looked pale and listless, as if she hadn’t slept or eaten well since their interlude. Perhaps she had felt the effects as much as he had, and that gave him hope.
“Look, Raven, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I did tell you that forever isn’t something I can do, and I meant it. Whatever you’re seeking in a life partner... It’s just not in me. I don’t know the first thing about forever relationships and what you see is exactly all there is.”
His gut clenched, but he had prepared himself for whatever she said. He’d let her get it all out, then he’d explain his feelings. He just hoped he wasn’t reading all of this wrong.
“I never lied to you, Raven. Not once. If that causes you an issue, I can’t fix it, because it isn’t about me.” Her brittle voice told him just how much she suffered, and a pain shafted through his chest.
He rocked back on his heels, listening to what she was saying. In that instant, he understood—she didn’t think she had value or worth. Her abandonment as a child and the thought that she had been abandoned again as an adult at the academy had reinforced the concept that she was valueless. Rather than take the cha
nce of further abandonment, she chose to be alone.
Barsha! This was going to be more difficult to overcome than just explaining his feelings to her. He needed to talk to Elara. A black pit of despair filled his belly. How could an amazing woman like this not see? How could she not know that her value was above the moon and the stars to him?
“Jem, let me arrange dinner. We can just have dinner and see where this goes. Can we do that?”
She looked surprised at the change of tack, the suspicion on her face hurting him, but it occurred to him that if he wanted to go forward, he would need to slow it down, accept the small steps. Not push any kind of a physical relationship right now.
He made a mental note to talk to Elara about the best way to proceed. She had access to information that would make this so much easier to deal with.
“Only dinner?” she queried, those beautiful eyes looking at him warily.
He wanted to laugh. He accepted the step forward—a small one, but he felt like he had won the most amazing prize.
“Just dinner, and we can see what happens next.” He watched her intently. The stiffness in her body seemed to melt away slightly. He wanted so much more, but his head told him to slow down. “Come on, sit down and I’ll make you a coffee if you want. No strings,” he reassured her quickly.
She smiled, and once more the flash of beauty made his throat catch. He clamped down on the emotion. Slow was the key, he reminded himself.
“Yeah, that would be great.”
He eased away from her and reached for the carafe, pouring them each a mug of the strong, hot brew.
* * * *
Jemma pulled on her flight uniform, feeling like a fraud. Whoever heard of a combat pilot without a ship? God damn!
