“You know, for someone who wasn’t afraid to come in my arms, I’m surprised you’re being so modest now.” I raise my brows.
Even through her hands, I can see her flush that strange red color. It creeps from her cheeks down to her cleavage.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispers.
“It seems like talking about it would be less trouble than actually doing it, but maybe that’s the human condition?”
Marta groans like she’s ashamed.
“How about this? You let me teach you to swim or you tell me why I caught you pleasuring yourself in my shower.” I know I’m pushing it, but there’s something so intoxicating about her embarrassment. Her flushed body, her fidgeting, even her little groans. I never realized how close embarrassment is to arousal on a physical level before.
“Quit making it weird. I’ll do the stupid swimming lesson!” She stands, removing the sheer wrap. The hunger in my gaze must betray me, though.
“Cover your eyes, pervert,” she says before removing the dress.
I obey, and I’m not sure why. The Raf’ere of old would have found a way to convince her to let me watch. He would have had some clever line—but then again, the old Raf’ere would have already had Marta in his bed.
The f’teeing mate bond drives me to protect her as much as it does to breed her.
But there’s a connection between us, beyond that bond, that wasn’t there before. The mate bond wouldn’t have bought Marta a pet, it wouldn’t have closed the f’teeing curtains.
It wouldn’t have held her as she sobbed.
Whatever it is, chemical or emotional, I keep my eyes shut tight—even when the soft waves hit my chest as she enters the pool.
How has it only been a few days since she woke up in my closet?
“Okay, you can look.” Her voice wavers slightly.
My lids snap open, and every fiber of my being focuses on not letting my eyes wander. The water hits Marta right at the edge of her shoulder. Even as I look at her face, I can see the swell of her breasts bobbing gently. And floating up from her cleavage is one of the beads from my ceremonial robe…a bead that she surely ripped from its design.
“A human good luck charm, eh?” I think I let the sexual frustration turn to anger when I yelled at her about the f’teeing robe.
“I don’t know if it works in space,” she says coolly.
“Why’s that?”
“Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?” She lets out a sad chuckle.
“There are worse places you could be in the universe.”
She rolls her eyes and dunks her head under the surface of the water. When she crests back up, her nipples flash briefly as she flips her soaking wet hair slick to her skull.
I’m simultaneously wondering how annoying it must be for a human’s hair to hold so much water and in awe of the water sluicing down her curves. My breath catches at how her palms slide her tresses back.
I wonder what her hands would feel like on me.
She sees me looking at her. Marta gestures with two fingers to her face.
“Eyes up here, dukey,” she orders.
Even though the water is glowing and clear, I hope it’s enough to obscure the fast swelling of my malehood. The intense ache in my shaft longs for the touch it so desperately craves.
“I’ll do my best,” I say with a forced grin.
“So, how do we start?”
“Let’s try treading water. I guess just start by lifting your feet and feeling how your body floats. You might be different from me, but we can adjust.” I pull my heels up off the floor and sink a bit deeper into the water.
