Mercenary Instinct (a science fiction romance) (31 page)

“Excellent.”

Ankari shifted her weight, so that she was
gazing through the map toward the bed. It was a tidy bed, neatly
made, with a furry blanket folded across the bottom. A soft fuzzy
rug on the floor offered a nice alternative to the rubbery matting,
and she imagined stepping on it barefoot in the morning. Viktor
released one of her hands and slid up behind her, so they were both
facing in the same direction.

“Are there any other tactics I should know
about for getting this new business partner to sleep with me?” He
leaned close, his chest against her shoulder, and lowered his face
to the top of her head. He took a deep breath. Smelling her hair?
She was glad she had washed it recently.

“You should probably visit her in her lab at
least once a day, so she doesn’t think you’ve forgotten her. Or
that you’re angry with her. Or that you’ve realized it was a
mistake ever to kiss her. Not that she’s needy and requires
constant reassurance, mind you; it’s just that you’re a hard man to
read. Daily displays of affection would enlighten and delight her,
I’m sure. Yes, like that,” she added, for he was nuzzling her hair
now, and had inched closer, the entire length of his body pressing
against her. His free arm curled around her waist, leaving no space
between them. Her own body heated in response, and she leaned into
his embrace. What had she been talking about? She had already
forgotten.

“It was inconsiderate of me not to come,” he
whispered, his breath warm against her neck.

“Yes, because you promised... things. You
promised a
later
.” Ankari wasn’t truly irked with him—she
was so relieved that he wasn’t upset with her that all of the
tension had flowed from her muscles, and she wanted to melt into
him. But she was terribly curious what he’d had in mind that night
in the temple when he had said that single word, his eyes scorching
as they had memorized her on the way out the door.

“I did,” he agreed and kissed her temple, the
brush of his lips so gentle that her soul welled with emotion. She
had been kissed before—why did it mean so much coming from him?
Because he usually rented women by the hour? Because he was known
for killing people, not making love to them? “I’ve thought of you
often,” he went on. “Most of the crew believes you’re still a
prisoner. It seemed easier that way. And it seemed I could more
easily maintain that facade if I wasn’t seen spending large amounts
of time with you. But when I was visiting, I never wanted to leave.
I always wanted to make your friends leave instead.”

“Oh?” Ankari closed her eyes, imagining him
ordering everyone out of the lab and pushing her up against a
counter...

Viktor bent his head lower, his soft hair
brushing against her temple, his lips grazing the tender flesh of
her neck. She leaned her head to the side, eager to give him access
to her throat, to whatever he wanted to touch. Each scrape, each
nibble sent a tingle of electricity through her, charging her to
the core. “Actually, I wanted to bring you back to my cabin,” he
murmured as he explored sensitive flesh, sucking, licking, nipping.
“That’s what I’ve wanted since that first night we kissed. It’s
what I’ve thought about. In my rack every night.” His hand slid up
the front of her body, caressing her breast through the fabric of
her jumpsuit, then drifting toward the zipper. “Mornings too.
Afternoons...”

The idea of him thinking about her excited
her almost as much as the deft strokes of his roaming fingers. She
released his hand so she could turn and slide hers around his back,
anchoring him to her, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere. She
tilted her face toward him, asking for a kiss.

He smiled, as if he had been waiting all
night for the question, then lowered his lips. She opened her
mouth, drawing him into her. His tongue stroked long and deep,
tasting her, inviting her to taste him. She rocked into him,
wanting—needing—more of him.

She could feel his hardness against her and
longed to wrap her arms and her legs around him, to press her slick
heat against him, to have what she’d yet to experience, to have him
in her. But he had pulled her jumpsuit down past her shoulders,
tangling her wrists and hands in the fabric, so she couldn’t have
grabbed anything. Meanwhile, both of his hands were roaming, one
thumb teasing her nipple through her thin camisole, the fingers of
his other hand drifting lower, stroking her throbbing mound through
the fabric of her jumpsuit. She wanted the clothes gone, but the
way they rasped against her damp skin was arousing, as well.

“I’ve never even seen you naked,” he
murmured. He was deliberately teasing her, keeping it slow when all
she wanted was to throw him against the wall and jump on him. She
was already panting, already aching for him.

“That could happen,” she croaked, finally
tugging her hands free, her sleeves falling about her legs.

Viktor released her, and she moaned a
protest. She grabbed his shoulders, not willing to let him go. But
he wasn’t leaving, only pushing her jumpsuit the rest of the way
off. She yanked her camisole over her head, wanting his mouth on
her flushed body, wanting his lips on her aching breasts. He knelt
to tug the legs of the jumpsuit over her shoes. Shoes. Why the hell
was she still wearing shoes? She tried to kick them off and
stumbled, catching herself on his shoulders. Wrong outfit to wear
for easy access for sex. She should have kept the monk robe. But
finally, she stood before him in nothing except her panties. She
might have yanked those off, too, but she hesitated, a hint of
self-consciousness creeping into her mind as he knelt, staring up
at her, looking at her from head to toe. What if he was
disappointed after his fantasies?

He ran his hands up her bare legs, his
fingers curling around the backs, stroking the sensitive skin of
her inner thighs. “Even better than I imagined,” he said, eyes like
lasers as they burned into her flesh.

“Good,” she whispered, relief making her
bolder. She ran her hands across his shoulders, squeezing the
muscles beneath his shirt. She needed to start stripping
him
down, but he wasn’t standing back up. Still on his knees, he pulled
her against him, breathing deeply, inhaling the scent of her
womanhood. She gripped the back of his head, digging her fingers
into his hair, and arched against him, wondering, hoping he
might...

His hands ran up her thighs to cup her
backside, his fingers curling into the band of her panties. Any
second he would tear them off. He rubbed against her first,
nibbling through the thin fabric, his tongue darting out, tracing
the outline of her lips. She gasped, her head lolling back, and
groaned his name. “Viktor... please. I want—”

It was as if that was what he had been
waiting for. He tugged her panties down, and she kicked them away,
supported by his strong hands. She rocked into him, pressing her
mound of curls into him. His tongue darted and stroked, and she
ground against him, her breaths coming in quick gasps. Her legs
quivered, and it was only his hands on her butt, supporting her,
spreading her, that kept her upright. His stroking licks turned
into nibbles, and she groaned again, bucking with need she couldn’t
control. With a final nip of his teeth, she cried out, a great wave
of release flowing through her.

Her legs gave out and she fell against him,
might have fallen to the floor, but he caught her, lifting her and
carrying her to the bed with two long strides. She wrapped her arms
around his shoulders, still catching her breath. His eyes, blazing
like flames, found hers as he lowered her onto the bed, the soft
fur of the blanket brushing against her damp back.

He knelt astride her, never looking away from
her as he yanked his shirt off. She gazed up at the ridges of
muscles gleaming with sweat, his taut nipples, the bulge of him
straining against his trousers, and her breath quickened, need
building in her anew.

She gripped his thighs and whispered, “I want
you. All of you.”

“Greedy,” he murmured, his gaze roaming
across her naked form as he unfastened his trousers.

“Entrepreneurs often are,” she whispered,
pulling at his waistband, helping him. Or maybe getting in the way.
It didn’t matter. His trousers soon joined his shirt on the floor,
and she could admire his entire body, scars, tattoos, and all. But
not for long, for he came down atop her, his mouth taking hers
again, demanding and hungry. She spread her legs and stroked his
rigid length with her hand, drawing him toward her, welcoming him,
wanting him. He groaned, struggling to keep it slow, gentle; she
sensed it in the tension in his shoulders, the restraint radiating
from him.

“Take me,” she whispered against his lips, a
command, not a request.

He obeyed. With a growl that brought the
panther surging into her mind again, he plunged into her. She cried
out, or maybe he did, their heated bodies coming together like
comets colliding. She gripped his shoulders, fingernails digging
into slick flesh, arching into him, her breaths coming in jagged
gasps. Her need grew as they came together, faster, deeper, until
he threw back his head and roared. His explosion sent her over the
edge, and surges of pleasure coursed through her body. She
shuddered, wrapping her arms around his back and her legs around
his, claiming him for her own. His contented growl said this suited
him fine. He shifted onto his side, pulling her with him, and
dragged the fur over them. He kissed her and stroked her waist.

Ankari smiled into his eyes, happy to cuddle
with him, though she couldn’t resist teasing him. “Do all
Grenavinians growl so much?”

He didn’t look abashed by her comment—he
probably knew he had a sexy growl and that she had panther
fantasies about him, so it fit just fine. “I don’t know. I haven’t
slept with many of them.” He wriggled his eyebrows and growled. “Do
all Speronians bite their men on the shoulder?”

“I didn’t do that.”

“You did. Twice.”

“Well, I was excited.”

“Good.” He pulled her closer, and they kissed
for a while, not talking much after that.

* * *

Viktor woke to the faint scent of lavender
and lilac in the air and the feel of soft tousled hair draped
across his arm. He also woke hard, with his shaft pressing against
Ankari’s thigh, memories of the night igniting his nerves. The map
still glowed in the center of the room, giving him enough light to
admire her sleeping form. His loins stirred further at the sight of
a bare breast rising and falling gently with her inhalations. He
tugged the Basaltar mink fur blanket up to her shoulders, lest he
be tempted to disturb her sleep with further explorations of her
body. Her sumptuous, responsive, agile body....

Down, boy.

The clock on the wall said it was early, and
they had been up late. Very late. He would let her rest, simply
enjoying the feel of her in his arms, the scent of her beneath his
nose. He lowered his face to her hair, rubbing his cheek against
it. He resisted the urge to growl, “Mine,” though only because she
had teased him about growling.

Despite his resolve, his fingers strayed
under the blanket, following the sleek line of her waist, the
tender skin of her abdomen, drifting up to circle her breast,
cupping the soft mound with his hand. She shifted, letting out a
soft sigh, and he paused, a small part of him abashed that he might
be caught fondling her and a much larger part of him hoping she
would wake up and throw her arms around him, and that they would
enjoy a couple of hours before he had to be on the bridge.

He rubbed his thumb across her nipple. It
hardened beneath his touch, but Ankari’s eyes remained closed. He
glanced at the clock again, trying to find the resolve to leave her
alone, but the blanket shifted, falling away from her and revealing
that breast again. He couldn’t ignore such an invitation. He leaned
over her, exploring that pert nipple with his mouth. He licked and
sucked, his own body responding, throbbing against her thigh,
begging him to move on top of her, into her...

A hand found the back of his head, fingers
curling into his hair, and he looked up. Her eyes were open to
sultry slits, watching him through lashes that dusted her cheeks.
His arm muscles quivered as he fought the urge to lower himself
onto her right then.

“Did I wake you?” he rasped, not quite
managing to sound apologetic. It was more of a pleading,
Did
you—I hope—want to be woken?

“Yes.”

“Do you mind?” Viktor lowered his lips to her
breast again, hoping that if she did, she would forget soon. He
slid his other hand down her waist, to the inside of her thigh, and
found hot slick moisture there. He breathed in, the smell of her
arousing him as much as the feel of her body.

“You can wake me like that any time,” she
murmured.

Her words were like a starter’s gun, and he
lowered himself onto her, taking her lips in his, shifting himself
between her legs. She smiled against his mouth, wrapping her arms
around him, arching into his body, letting him know that she didn’t
want him anywhere else. He found her warm entrance and crashed into
her, a wave surging up the beach. Their movements quickly became
fast, frenzied, as if they had been apart for months instead of a
couple of hours. They came together, the wave becoming a tsunami, a
great blast that stole all of his strength and left him atop her,
his face buried in her neck.

“You’re very good at that,” Ankari whispered
in his ear, her nails scraping lightly down his back.

He feared he’d been doing little more than
answering his body’s desires, but he accepted the compliment,
knowing he’d taken his time and pleased her the night before. “I’d
like to wake up to you in my arms every morning,” he said. It
sounded hokey and maudlin, but he couldn’t find non-crude words for
telling her about how he usually had nothing more than his hand
when he woke up hard and that this was much better. He decided she
would appreciate it more if he moved so he wasn’t crushing her with
all of his weight, so he pulled her over with him, holding her
against him, stroking her butt, not ready to leave her warmth
yet.