Trapped: A SciFi Convict Romance (The Condemned Book 1)

by Alison Aimes

  It only made him harder.

  She was amazing. Allowing nothing to keep her down, mar her spirit. She always found a way to fight back. Truth be told, she humbled him.

  “Caine.” Her breathy use of his name made him groan out loud. He fucking loved hearing it on her lips. “Come in me. Now.”

  Grabbing her ass, he lifted her and thrust inside her warm heat. And found calm for the first time since he’d seen her being attacked. She was with him. She was safe.

  But he couldn’t screw up again. He had to double his vigilance. Make sure he didn’t repeat the mistakes of his past.

  Stilling inside her, he gripped her chin. “Starting tomorrow, you learn defensive moves that can help you get away from an attacker.”

  “Okay.” Her eyes were already half-lidded, her pupils wide. He wasn’t even sure she’d fully heard him.

  “You’ll learn to read the signs for approaching bad weather and the best places to look for shelter.”

  “Mmmm.” She clenched her inner muscles in a clear sign of impatience. “Talk…later.”

  He stifled a groan. Forced himself to remain focused. “You’ll learn the predators here and how to avoid them or you won’t go outside.”

  Blinking slowly, she considered him for a long moment, those grass green eyes slicing right through his darkness. Then she surprised him. She leaned forward and kissed the skin right over his heart. Just like she’d done before. “There is honor on Dragath25. And selflessness, too. Thank you, Caine. For everything.”

  The place where she’d kissed him burned as if he’d been seared. His heart slamming against his ribs as if he’d run a mile.

  Suddenly, there was no more ability to hold back. He sank deep inside, watching her beautiful, knowing eyes shut as pleasure gripped her and she moved easily with his fierce pace. As if they were made for one another.

  She really did think he was one of the good guys—and damn him, but he wanted to be that for her. Even if it was too late. Even if what had happened with his wife had made that impossible.

  But somehow, when he was deep inside his fighter girl like this, her legs wrapped around his waist, her full breasts rubbing against his chest, he didn’t care how stupid it was. He wanted to be her everything. He wanted to be her hero forever.

  Which, like it or not, meant letting her go.

  The realization sliced straight through his chest like a rusty blade. One of these days soon, there’d be no more touches. No more palms laced together, her slender fingers anchoring him, soothing him. No more soft silk beneath his fingertips or breathy moans in his ear or watching her eyes light up with awe when he showed her a new location of plants and trees.

  It would all come to an end just like he’d always known it would.

  Because even with his fighter girl’s impressive spirit, she’d never survive long on Dragath25. Not with 225’s pack on her trail. Today had driven that home.

  “Everything okay?” Her concerned tone slapped him back to the present.

  He hadn’t realized he’d stopped moving.

  “Sure, fighter girl.” He lifted her higher, shifting the angle so his palm could slide down her belly to play with her clit. “Everything is just the way it should be.”

  He wasn’t one of the good guys, and he couldn’t keep her forever, but he could do something right with what he had left of his life. He could do whatever it took to get her safely back on that rescue shuttle and able to save the precious Earth she was so keen to protect. He could, when the time came, let her go—and deal with whatever 225 threw his way.

  But not a minute before he had to.

  Because, yes, he was a selfish bastard. But also because he knew deep in his bones he was her best chance of staying alive until the rescue crew arrived.

  He hadn’t been able to save his wife, but he would safeguard Bella.

  And watching her come apart, her skin flushed, her tits jiggling up and down as she rode him hard, well,…in the meantime that was a hell of a consolation prize. One he’d be replaying over and over when she was back where she belonged and he was alone again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Bella’s shoulder hit the ground first, her teeth vibrating inside her skull.

  Exhausted, sweaty, her muscles screaming, she flopped onto her back and surveyed the rust-colored cave ceiling overhead. It was as austere as the rest of Caine’s home.

  She’d had little chance to look around when they’d arrived in near darkness late last night, her body exhausted from the trek and the day’s events, her eyes barely able to stay open.

  But from what she could tell in the light of day, she hadn’t missed much. Beyond the weapon arena she was currently lying in, there was a kitchen area with a fire pit and stocks of food and water and a separate area with a bed. A surprisingly comfy bed she wished she was still in.

  Supposedly, there was a warm spring in one of the back caverns, but she hadn’t seen any evidence of it yet. Caine had been too intent on getting going with her training. While she might not be accountable for every waking movement as she had been under Council protocol, her current situation suddenly didn’t feel too different.

  Truth be told, the Caine who faced her now appeared almost as rigid. Much like his home. Everything in his place was neat and orderly and very utilitarian. There was nothing that didn’t serve a purpose. Nothing that suggested frivolity or fun. Nothing that indicated what the hell he’d been doing for the last eight years besides trying to survive.

  “I really thought I had you that time.” It wasn’t true, but if she said it often enough, maybe he’d believe she was actually improving and let her take a break. She hadn’t realized he’d be quite this intense about her training.

  “Again.” Without warning, Caine grabbed her wrist and lifted her to her feet, his scowl firmly in place. She’d thought yesterday had brought them closer, but apparently, that had been a one-day scenario, at least on his part. Because whatever tenderness he’d shown after yesterday’s attack was nowhere to be found today. In its place was a guarded reserve she didn’t welcome or understand.

  Unless they were having sex. Then she sensed the same desperation he’d shown when they first met. In fact, when she’d woken up early this morning, he’d fucked her like he might never again. Then he’d done it three more times. Her legs were still rubbery.

  She took a deep breath and reminded herself not to jump to conclusions. After all, he’d been on his own a long time. They had limited time to train. He was used to a hard way of life. Not to mention it might take some time for him to grow accustomed to having someone else under foot all the time.

  The list of justifications went on and on. Plus, it was no small thing that he was pushing her so she could defend herself against monsters like the one she’d encountered yesterday—and she wanted that, too. Wanted to be able to defend against anything that might come her way. Especially since she hadn’t given up on saving the approaching Council rescue shuttle and finding a way to return to Earth.

  “Remember to watch your left. You’re dropping it every time.” He bent into a crouch, the flickering light from the glow torches on the walls dancing off the carved muscles of his stomach highlighting every mouthwatering shift and flex. His sexy happy trail disappearing beneath the waistband of a pair of faded camo pants that sat low on his hips. Honestly, the man was temptation itself.

  She didn’t know if the shift from the loincloth was a laundry issue or a sign he was embracing more of the man he’d once been, but she was taking it as a good omen.

  He’d given her a new faded t-shirt to wear as well. It was as roomy as the last, but free of dust and dirt and hung to her knees—which was good since she still had no underwear. Outside, wind and dust battered at the thick cave walls, as loud as a shuttle engine.

  The dust storm, which had started early this morning, had made it impossible for them to head out to warn her crew about 225 and the trackers. A situation that had worried her until Caine pointed out 225’s men we
re trapped as well.

  Her breath left her in a rush as her feet swept out from under her.

  Caine had come at her while she was lost in thought. She braced herself for a jarring landing. But like last time, he caught her at the last minute, slowing her decent so she landed with one tenth the force. Still, her shoulder smarted.

  “You’re not paying attention,” he barked. “You need to stay on guard. Alert. Any distraction can get you killed.”

  Still on her back, she looked up to find him glowering down at her, his arms crossed over his wide chest. Even with that frown, he was beautiful. His chiseled cheekbones and square jaw pure masculinity. His bronzed skin covered in ropey muscle after muscle. The crisscross of scars across his body proved him every inch the warrior. Still, there was no give in him at all. In his body. In his demeanor. In his approach.

  Her determination to be optimistic wavered. Could he already regret bringing her to his home?

  Maybe that wouldn’t have bothered her if she still thought of him as only a short-term necessity to endure. But her feelings had been shifting, little by little—perhaps even from the moment he’d first touched her with that look of awe—and after yesterday, they’d solidified. Her desire to please him increasingly prompted by far more than the instinct to survive and the deal they’d made.

  He might be a Dragath25 criminal; he might have done awful things in his past, but that wasn’t who he was with her.

  All her life, she’d been around people—crowded into tight spaces to optimize scarce resources and space—but even so, she’d been alone. Isolated by her responsibilities and her ambition. Sure, she’d dated a few men here and there and indulged in some quick, perfunctory sex when her needs became too great, but none of those affairs had ever lasted beyond a few weeks. None had ever been worth risking her position and allowing herself to get close.

  But Caine was different. She’d had to depend on him or die, and in the process, she was pretty certain she’d opened herself up to him as she never had to anyone else. It made her feel ripped wide open and…vulnerable…. maybe, embarrassingly enough, even a little insecure.

  He mattered to her. She wanted to matter to him as well.

  Which made his aloofness this morning all the more troubling.

  Pushing onto her elbows, she studied him, searching for any clues to what he was thinking. “Let’s take a break. Maybe talk? I know so little—”

  “No breaks.”

  She was flying through the air to land on her feet in the next instant.

  “Stop doing that.” She shook off his hold. “I can get up myself.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “But can you stay up?”

  “This time you’re going down, smart ass.” Irritated, she went into her own crouch, murmuring to herself. “Left hand by the face. Weight on balls of the feet. Grab his wrist, turn, use his momentum….”

  Then he was coming at her and there was no more time to think. Just act.

  Her shoulder met the ground again. “That’s it.” She rolled to sit, her elbow propped on her knees. Yes, she wanted to learn to defend herself, but she needed time to clear her head. “You’ve pummeled me enough for the morning. I need a rest.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “You think 225’s men are going to go easy on you?” He stalked forward until their bare feet were touching. “I can’t be around every minute.” His voice was rough with tension. His features taut. “Come on, Gwen, at least make a god damn effort.”

  Her ears twitched, every nerve going on alert. “Gwen? Who’s Gwen?”

  His expression blanked. “Don’t worry about it.” He flowed back into his offensive stance as if nothing had happened. “Let’s get back to it, fighter girl. Keep your weight evenly distributed. You can do this.”

  She didn’t move.

  For some stupid reason, she’d never considered he might have a woman in his life. Someone he missed. Someone he thought of every time he was fucking her.

  “My name is Bella. Not fighter girl.” It was suddenly important that he call her that. That she hear her name on his lips.

  “What?”

  “I’d like you to call me Bella.”

  His lips flat-lined. “You think it makes a difference what I call you?”

  “You should at least know the name of the woman you’re currently fucking.”

  He stretched to his full, intimidating height, tense silence filling the room; ominous, heavy.

  Her heart skittered inside her chest, all her silly, happily-ever-after imaginings crumbling to dust.

  “You know what, Bella?” he said at last, her name sounding almost like a curse. “You were right before. We could both use a break.”

  From training? Or the deal? She was too afraid to ask for fear she wouldn’t like the answer. Instead, she watched in silence as he stalked to the kitchen area and grabbed a cup of water. And even though she could see his Adam’s apple sliding up and down as he drank deep, even though she could see the sexy curve of his lip as he held the cup to his mouth, he could have been a solar system away with the length of the distance he’d put between them.

  Chapter Twelve

  “What are you working on?” Tired of the impasse that had kept them in separate corners of the cave for the last hour, Bella crossed to where Caine was hunched over a mish-mash collection of colorful, frayed wires and beat up circuits. It must have taken years to accumulate it all.

  “Not much.” He didn’t look up.

  “Is that the start of an engine for some kind of space ship?”

  He snorted.

  Yes, that’s what she’d thought, but a girl could hope. “What is it then?”

  “Just a heap of trash now.”

  “And when it’s done?”

  There was a long pause. The pounding of the storm debris against the cave walls only made the quiet inside more acute.

  “Fine.” She turned away, her voice tight and sharp. “We don’t have to talk at all. Silence is good, too.”

  A hand wrapped around her ankle, checking her in place.

  “I’ve had eight years of silence, Bella.” This time her name held no anger. “I don’t need anymore.”

  Guilt settled low in her stomach. She might have been on her own her whole life, but Caine had been truly alone. No siblings to offer a smile or a hug. No colleagues with which to discuss the latest theories. No bunkmates to commiserate with over a late night of smuggled-in banned drinks.

  What right did she have to begrudge him memories of people from his past? Or take his reserve personally? Maybe she would never matter to him like he did to her, but they could still co-exist. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and pretended her chest didn’t hurt.

  “Okay.” She plopped down on the floor beside him, her own form of olive branch. “Can I help?” She gestured toward his project.

  “Sure.” He handed her a couple unattached wires. “See if you can peel away the burnt coating. It’s no good anymore, but the wire beneath could still be useful.”

  She got to work. Sitting side by side, working in tandem, was…relaxing. Peaceful. Washing away the last of the tension between them. At his urging, she told him about her childhood, her brother and sister, and her work. Though he didn’t say much, she did manage to learn he’d grown up on one of the rare working farms still in existence twenty years ago and that he’d traveled to a heck of a lot more places on Earth than she’d ever been.

  It was nice simply being together. Learning his habits. The way his brow drew down when he was concentrating. The way he rubbed at the scar on his right thumb when he was listening to her stories, a faint smile on his gorgeous face.

  A while later, she got up to get some water. Caine kept working away. His project still resembling nothing she could identify.

  “Are you sure that’s not a space ship engine that can fly us out of here?”

  He took the water she proffered, his throat muscles moving up and down as he took a long drink. “Still dreaming of us both
getting out of here, fighter gi—ah, Bella?”

  “Of course. The good guys always win in the end,” she joked, appreciative he’d made an effort to use her name.

  “Good guys, huh?” He looked hard at the jumble of wires. “What if I told you when it’s done it will be something similar to the equipment used by 225’s pack to override your shuttle’s computers?”

  “The thing that caused us to crash?” She suddenly didn’t even like looking at the contraption. It felt ominous. And deadly.

  He ran his hand over one of the wires. “Exactly.”

  “Why would you make something like that?” Her voice came out shriller than intended, memories of the crash making her throat go tight.

  His fingers stilled. “Why do you think?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m certain it’s not for the same purpose used by 225. You’re not a killer.”

  “I’m not?” The deliberate way he placed his work onto the ground and unfolded to stand above her proved they’d waded back into dangerous territory. “I killed that tracker.”

  “That was different.”

  “Was it? A life gets taken all the same.”

  She stood, trying to lessen the space between them. “If you hadn’t killed those men, they would have killed us. You were acting in self-defense.”

  “I haven’t always.” His admission was a harsh whisper. “You say I’m some kind of good guy, but these hands that have been all over you? That have been deep inside your pussy and worked you good? These hands you’re thinking can easily tag along when you fly away from Dragath25? These are killer hands, fighter girl.” He held them out in front of him, curling them into fists, making the web of milky white scars stand out all the more against his bronze skin. “There’s no washing that away. Or pretending otherwise. No matter what.”

  “People can change,” she said a little desperately, not sure how they’d ended up here. Or why he kept deliberately trying to push her away. “People can make mistakes and then fix them and move on.”

  He took a step closer, his voice a low, menacing rumble. “What if I don’t think I made a mistake? What if I’d do the same thing that put me here over and over again?”