Page 28 of The Interstellar Rake's Irresistible Kiss
Like a duke.
He refused to consider what that meant. “If you did get in trouble, it would only be with me.”
A little smile played around her lips and eased the annoying tension that had gripped him at her unwillingness to speak to him or even look at him. “And if I got in all this trouble you’re thinking about, what wouldI have to do to get back in your good graces?”
“Dukes are your graces,” he growled. “And I’m no duke.”
She lifted up to one elbow, gazing down at him through her lashes. “What would a pirate captain do?”
He smirked and rolled her to her back. “You pretend to be an innocent Earther girl, but I think you can imagine.”
She stretched her hands above her, arching her back. “Maybe you better remindme.”
He stared down at her offering hungrily. If he had his way, he’d never let her forget.
***
She fell asleep on him just as the sky beyond her window was lightening.
Literally on him. Her body draped across his, her head pillowed on his opposite shoulder. One of her knees was wedged just under his raging erection.
He’d gotten hard again just after her last orgasm. There was no reasonfor the swelling; he’d been satisfied several times over, a trick of the ir half of his physiology that had left Trixie exclaiming—and exhausted.
And also satisfied, he knew. And yet he couldn’t join her in quiet slumber.
Maybe it was the lingering musky aroma of sex, or maybe the haunting scent that was purely her hiding underneath that. Or maybe it was the too-many pillows scattered amongthe covers; this guest room had more than his, and he wondered if the estate staff had wanted to fill up her bed a bit since she was so small.
He understood the impulse. Larf it, he’d wanted to fill herallup.
Maybe it was just that he’d never actually willingly spent a whole night with another body beside his. The privateer ship where he’d been sold had housed its lesser personnel in commonberths, and once he’d captured his own ship, he’d vowed never to share a bed again. Taking commission of theGrandiloquencehad been an even higher step up to his own huge stateroom with an unnecessarily large bunk. Trixie didn’t take up much room on the mattress, but somehow she took an inordinate amount of space in his awareness.
More muscles twitched in his body, not just the aching one atthe center that he’d sent dancing—and yes, practically singing—inside her. When she snuffled softly into his neck, a shiver coursed down his spine. Unnerved at the thought of waking her, having her see him in this state, he flattened himself into the mattress and sidled out from beneath her. He grabbed a few of the pillows to wedge under her where he had been and carefully tucked the blanket closeto keep her nestled in.
Despite the perfectly controlled climate inside the estate, a ghostly touch whispered along his skin as he moved away from her to the edge of the bed. He glanced back warily—that chill usually meant someone was watching, maybe intending to shoot him.
But Trixie slept on, one hand tucked under her soft mishkeet cheek and her blond hair tumbled across the pillows. Againstthe rich dark green hue of the bedding, her creamy skin beckoned his hand.
He reached out to brush back one of the strands that had strayed across her lips, but then he stopped himself. She would feel that touch. He redirected his finger to the too-cushy pillow where another lock coiled like a treasure on display. The tress wound around his knuckle with a silky caress. So fine and delicate. Andyet the strands seemed to bind something deep inside him.
He unraveled himself hastily and slipped out of the bed.
From the safe distance of the doorway, he glanced back. She looked smaller than ever in the big hollow of the bed. Though he’d moved out of the way, there was still room for him to return…
He increased the opacity of the windows to block out the brightening light and shut the doorbehind him.
The quiet shush of the portal cutting him off from Trixie sounded disapproving.
And he’d left his clothes behind.
Cursing quietly to himself, he checked the wardrobe in the bathing area that was accessible through the communal room. The estate guest quarters were always well stocked with toiletries for different species, and the stylish Thorkon day robes fit many lifeforms. In thewardrobe, hanging alongside the Azthronos gifts was a simple white shift. He reached for it, thinking he could use it as a shirt, but as his fingers snagged on the flimsy material, he realized it was the sole piece of clothing Trixie had brought with her after her rescue from the space station. All the Black Hole Brides had been skimpily dressed in these shifts, the only possessions Blackworm hadleft them.
Why had the estate staff laundered and returned the shift? Why had Trixie not dropped it in the recycler, a repudiation of her abduction? He would’ve set his plasma blaster to high burn and shot the thing to pieces and then incinerated the ashes.
But Trixie didn’t believe it was over.
His scowl fell away to blankness. He was in charge of security, as he’d told her, but she had noconfidence in him. The weak, almost transparent fabric hung there like a shouted accusation.
She might be off the space station, but she hadn’t left it behind.
