Page 47 of Mongrels United
The kiss exceeded her expectations, which told her exactly how much she had been entertaining the idea in her subconscious. Nash was hot and hard against her. He took command of the kiss, his hand cradling her head, holding it steady as he plundered her mouth.
It wasn’t simply a kiss. It was a catalyst. Her body sheeted in invisible flames, every limb melting and all her nerves coming online with fizzing intensity.
Not a single thought of stopping this entered her mind. She did not remind herself of the lenses which monitored the Captain’s suite, which would be dispassionately recording every second of her complete lack of judgement.
It was Nash who halted it.
He didn’t thrust her away, or step away himself. They remained pressed together so hard she could feel his heartbeat against her. Instead, Nash lifted his mouth from hers, just enough for their eyes to meet. The look in his sent a shiver through her.
“Take a second kiss, and I won’t stop.” His voice was very low. She could feel it vibrating against her chest, which was mashed against his. “That’s the only warning I will give you, Grady, because you know better than to tangle with someone like me. I’ll ruin you. So don’t kiss me again, because I won’t…I will not be able to stop. I want you too much.”
She had thought her body was on fire, before that moment. But his words ignited pure heat that swept through her and left her heart pounding and her mind singing a high aria.
Nash watched her face. Her hard-won neutral expression had fled, for he shook his head a little. “You’re the Chief of Staff to the Captain. We’re on the Bridge. And the ship is under threat. Think it through, Grady.”
He’d said exactly the right thing. When had he got so good at reading people? He’d told her he was bad at it.
But reminding her of the threat, that Bellish was circling the ship, destroying lives and minds, was enough to douse her feelings, for better sense to assert itself. She stepped away, and Nash let her go. His hands fell to his sides.
The need to reach for him and draw him back made her tremble.
“I’ll see you to the gate,” she said, instead. Her voice was—no surprise!—hoarse. A parody of her normal smooth, professional tone.
They moved through the bridge corridor silently. The corridor lights were dimmed and the corridor utterly empty. The sounds of activity and murmurs of conversation which had echoed in the ballroom while they were eating were gone.
When they reached the gate and the single Guard stirred to sleepy attention and raised the barrier, Grady expected Nash to walk through with his gaze forward and not look back at her.
But she lingered by the side of the arch, unable to simply turn and leave. She watched him approach the curve of the avenue, where he would disappear from sight.
At the last minute, he looked back. His gaze met hers directly, as if he’d known she was there all along. He didn’t smile or wave, but the look was enough. The trembling started up in her again.
Then he rounded the curve and disappeared.
You are in deep, deep trouble, Grady Read, her mind whispered.
Her body agreed.
Chapter Twenty
After a near-sleepless night, Grady rose ridiculously early, dressed and ate a simple breakfast that she didn’t want, but she choked down every mouthful, anyway. She would need the calories before the day was through.
Kailash was not up and probably wouldn’t be for hours, so she left him a note, congratulating him and the team on being recognized by the audience last night, and commiserating on the near-win.
Then she headed for the bridge, intending to immerse herself in all the work she had been putting aside to deal with the Bellish. She had to leave the matter in Nash’s hands, let him talk to the people who had been alive back when Nash was a child, to see what they might know. And she was content to put her trust in Nash—in this matter, at least. He was as interested as her in stamping out Bellish.
She knew she would have to concentrate heavily to remain focused upon her work, today.
That stupid kiss! What had she been thinking?
Even recalling it made her body thud with heavy expectancy, which annoyed her. She was supposed to be a professional, her behavior and actions immune from simple biological needs.
She had abandoned that restraint last night.
I want you too much.
His voice echoed in her memory and her body thrilled at the recall.
By the time she reached the bridge, Grady was in a rare foul mood. A message from the hospital where her father was informed her in stiff formal phrases that there had been no change in his condition, which did nothing to improve her temper.
