Every rational thought in my head evaporated. Zara. Naked—orpartlynaked. I’d take whatever I could get. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She moved closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from her body. “Unless you don’t want to—”
“I want to.” The words came out rougher than I’d intended. “I’ve been thinking about it constantly.”
“Good.” She reached out and traced one of the mating marks on my neck with her fingertip. “Because I’ve been thinking about it too.”
The gentle touch sent electricity shooting through my nervous system, straight to my aching cock, which was now straining desperately at the front of my pants. I caught her hand, pressing it flat against the marks, and she made a soft sound that also went straight to my groin.
“What exactly does ‘making out’ involve?” I asked, needing to understand the boundaries before I lost control entirely.
“Everything except actual sex,” she said, her voice slightly breathless. “Kissing, touching, removing clothes if we want to. Just not penetration of the penis into the vagina.”
“That’s…specific,” I managed to say. “I can work with that.”
Then she was leaning toward me, and I was meeting her halfway, and our mouths came together with a hunger that surprised me with its intensity. This was desperate, consuming, a little clumsy. Her teeth bumped into mine and she pulled away briefly, giggling. “Sorry.”
I didn’t care. I pulled her closer and she came willingly, her hands tangling in my hair as she opened her mouth under mine. She tasted like the metallic water and something uniquely her, and I couldn’t get enough. When I traced her lower lip with my tongue, she made a sound that made every nerve ending in my body come alive.
“Torven,” she breathed against my mouth, and the way she said my name made something primal rear up in my chest.
I trailed kisses along her jaw, down to the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. Her skin was incredibly soft, and when I found a particularly sensitive area and focused my attention there, her hands tightened in my hair and she arched against me.
“Is this okay?” I asked, my voice rough with want.
“More than okay,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I explored the column of herthroat, learning what made her breath hitch and what made her press closer. When she tugged at my shirt, I pulled back just long enough to yank it over my head before reaching for the fastenings of her jacket.
“I smell awful,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “But if you don’t care, I don’t care.”
“I don’t care,” I mumbled between kisses. The practical garments we’d been wearing for days came away with surprising ease, until we were skin-to-skin in the dim light of the control room. I took a moment just to look at her, this brilliant, beautiful woman who somehow belonged to me, and felt overwhelmed by the reality of it.
“You’re gorgeous,” I told her, meaning every word.
She blushed, but didn’t look away. “So are you.”
Then we were kissing again, hands roaming freely, learning the texture of each other’s skin. She was warm and soft in all the right places, and every touch, every gasp, every small sound she made just fueled the fire burning in my veins.
When I trailed kisses down her throat to her collarbone, she arched beneath me, her hands gripping my shoulders. I could feel her heart racing under my lips, could sense her growing arousal in the way her breathing became more ragged.
Her breasts were small, a delicate handful, with high-tipped nipples that were taut and pink, beckoning my touch. I cupped one in my hand, feeling its weight, its warmth seeping into my palm, and I watched as her breath hitched with anticipation. I circled my thumb around the areola, feeling the soft skin pebble under my touch, and Imarveled at the perfect symmetry of her body’s response to my caress.
I leaned in, my lips brushing against the sensitive peak, and she gasped as I took her nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, teasing and tasting. Her fingers threaded through my hair, tugging gently as I lavished attention on one breast, then the other, my hands and mouth worshipping the soft mounds that fit so perfectly in my hands.
She arched beneath me, her body undulating with each flick of my tongue, each gentle suckle. I could feel her heart pounding against my lips, a staccato rhythm that matched the throbbing desire building within me. Her arousal was a palpable thing, a scent that filled the air, a heat that radiated from her skin, making my own body ache with need.
“I want to make you feel good,” I murmured against her skin.
“You are,” she breathed. “You definitely are.”
I worked my way lower, taking my time, savoring every reaction. When I reached the curve of her breast, she made a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a moan, and I knew I’d found something she liked.
Time seemed to slow down as we explored each other, as I learned what touches made her sigh and what made her grip me tighter. The rest of the universe faded away—the hostile planet, the unknown aliens, the uncertain future. There was nothing but this moment, this connection, this incredible woman who trusted me enough to be vulnerable with me.
When I moved lower still, she tensed slightly.
“Okay?” I asked, looking up at her.
