His mouth was hot and greedy, and I moaned into it, grasping at him with frantic fingers, pulling him closer,craving as much of him as he would give me. The kiss was hungry, ravenous as his arms wrapped around me, as he lifted me off the floor, one of my shoes slipping off my foot to tip onto its side on his carpet. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, and somehow, through the demanding, blistering heat of the kiss, it was soft, gentle as it caressed mine.
I shuddered in his arms, burned, nearly combusted. Then, mercifully, like the sky right after the sun sank below the horizon, the fiery red surge of the kiss cooled to soft streams of violet, blue, pink. His hand rose to cradle my head, his fingers firmly supporting its weight, and everything slowed as he deepened the kiss, pulling me down with him, setting my feet back on the ground.
I was sure that, by now, I’d experienced every known variety of kiss, but I was wrong. This kiss was a novel species, an unidentified element, an uncharted star I would place my finger over in the night sky and proclaim,this one here, this is mine.
When we parted, our chests heaving, our foreheads touching, he said, “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”
Nestling into the space between his neck and shoulder, I rested my cheek on the soft, adorably bow-tied fabric of his pajamas. While he held me, he breathed in a slow, hypnotic rhythm that pulled my eyelids lower and lower with every exhale.
“You should go to bed before you fall asleep here in my arms,” he said, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Do you want me to carry you there?”
Still not entirely trusting myself or him or ourarrangement, I shook my head, slipped my foot back into my shoe, and let him walk me to his door.
When I somehow made it to my pod without falling asleep on the way, I stripped off my dress, bra, and panties,then crawled onto my bed and collapsed. Before unconsciousness claimed me, however, I slid my hand under my pillow, finding the coil of Joshua’s necktie. Pulling the tie out of its hiding place, I unraveled it and looped it around my neck, falling asleep wearing his tie, a smile, and nothing else.
14
After snatchinga scant three hours of sleep, I walked, bleary-eyed and fuzzy-headed, to the bistro on deck thirty for my date with Tig—that I would have absolutely slept through if Elanie hadn’t commed me to thirty minutes ago.
Designed to resemble those found along the Old Earth rue de la Paix in Paris, the bistro was quaint and quiet, with black-and-cream-checkered floor tiles and wrought-iron tables covered with crisp, white tablecloths.
“Sunny,” Tig called out, half-obscured by a tiered tray of sliced baguettes, brioche, and delicate pastries. She sat beside a window that overlooked a weather-controlled biogarden bursting with violets, lilies, and magnolias, and ringed by cherry trees in perpetual full bloom. “I was worried you might not come.”
“I’m not late, am I?” I asked, stooping to kiss her cheek.
“No, but I was still worried. I’m always worried, I guess,” she said with a brittle laugh.
“Darling, the effects last night were spectacular. And I wouldn’t miss celebrating your success with you foranything in all the worlds.” Despite my genuine enthusiasm, when I sat heavily in my chair, I did it wishing it was my bed. “Did you sleep?” I asked, scanning the bistro for a serving drone, needing caffeine more than oxygen.
“Yeah,” Tig said, slathering a flaky croissant in honeyed butter. “For a few hours, anyway. But I’m wrecked.”
Moaning in gratitude as a serving drone set a kettle of steaming water, fragrant teas, and two cups of espresso with tiny cherry blossoms worked into the foam on our table, I reached for a cup.
“You can have mine too.” Tig nodded toward the espresso. “Caffeine makes me jittery.”
Corralling both cups of espresso in front of me, I downed one in two gulps. Then I plucked a macaron from the tray and took a bite. It was crispy and sweet, filled with a buttercream that tasted like figs and almonds. “Stars, Tig. This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.” The statement was, I realized, utterly false. But I always did my best to—not think about that kiss, about his soft lips and softer tongue—behave myself around Tig. Innuendo tended to make her break out in hives.
“I know, right?” Tig said, pouring hot water over a sachet of bright-green tea leaves, the sharp tang of ginger and lemongrass rising into the air. But when she brought the cup of tea to her lips, I didn’t miss the tremor in her hand. It was possible she was only tired, but she seemed more distracted than usual, her eyes darting around the bistro, her other hand clenching the napkin next to her plate.
“Is everything all right?” I asked while selecting a cream puff from the tray. “Is there something on your mind?” I popped the entire puff into my mouth, my soul briefly departing my body from its warm, soft perfection.
“I’m not sure.” Her lips twisted, her brows inching together. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“That sounds like ayesto me.”
Glancing around again, she lowered her voice. “Could be nothing. It’s probably nothing.”
“Good grief, Tig. You’re as white as a sheet. What happened?”
“Okay,” she said in a whisper, leaning halfway over the table. “But you can’t tell anyone.”
I swiped a finger across my heart. “Go on.”
“Last night, I was running an unscheduled security sweep on the ship’s data streams prior to the ball. Just a precautionary measure considering the amount of computing power all the effects required. Anyway, I found something…odd.”
“Odd?” Now I was intrigued. “How odd?”
Leaning even closer, she said, “Over the last couple of weeks, someone off-ship has been accessing our manifests, as well as our guests’ itineraries.”
