Don’t ask. You’re driving her to Raleigh tomorrow, and she’ll be gone from your life.
I made pasta for dinner that night, and although she joked about being useless in the kitchen, she kept me company, asking me stories about the big games I’d played in over the years, and what the winning hands had been.
After dinner, I forced myself to give her space by sitting at my computer at the table, trying to focus on spreadsheets of my investments and extrapolations for the next ten years, while she read on the couch.
I’m not as anti-tech as some of my guys were who’d grown up in our homeworld, but seeing that Stevie preferred to read rather than scroll on her phone…well, I guess that made me happy. I had so many questions about her, and it felt like every other minute I had to force my lips closed to keep from asking them.
You’ll be saying goodbye to her tomorrow. She doesn’t belong here. She’s not one of your…one of your souls to watch over.
She belonged with Hendricks.
Did she belongtoHendricks?
“Hey, Garrak?”
At her call, my gaze—which had been locked unseeingly on the numbers in front of me—snapped up. Stevie shrugged one shoulder, her smile a little self-deprecating.
“Do you mind if I borrow your shower? Just so I can spruce up a little before heading off-island tomorrow?”
Hot irritation flamed from myKteeras I realized I’d forgotten to offer her such a simple hospitality. “Yeah, of course.” My hands stayed splayed over the keyboard, knowing if I stood, I wouldn’t be able to keep from touching her. “There are extra towels under the sink in there. I’m sorry I didn’t offer it earlier.”
“No worries.” She was already reaching for her backpack, the single piece of luggage she’d arrived with. “I won’t take too long?—”
“No.” At my growl, she glanced at me, and I saw the worry in her eyes, so I forced myself to inhale, forced my hackles to lower. “No,” I repeated, more softly. “You take as much time as you want, Stevie. Steam up the whole place. Enjoy your shower.”
Her face lit with a smile. “Okay, thanks!”
And I suspected I would’ve done anything to make her smile like that. What kind of world was she used to, where a hot shower was worth that much joy?”
When she closed herself in the bathroom, I tried to focus on my work, honestly. But the image of her, all wet and hot and naked—kept intruding on my thoughts. Gods below, her curves! Her curves, all slick and touchable…
My cock was throbbing against the fly of my jeans, and I sat back in my seat with a groan.
Without conscious thought, my hand dropped to my crotch, my palm grinding against my erection, the pressure a weak relief. I pressed harder, rubbing back and forth through the denim of my jeans, knowing it wasn’t enough.
What the fuck are you doing?
Embarrassing myself, that’s what I was doing.
With a growl of frustration, I pushed away from the table and stalked toward the fridge. I needed a beer.
But standing there on the tile, staring out into the darkness of the sky and sea, gulping down that beer…it wasn’t enough. I could hear the shower running, and myKteerwouldn’t allow me tonotthink of Stevie rubbing my soap all over her body, her hands touching herself…
Fuck me with a tractor! I needed a distraction.
Plopping the beer on the counter, I dropped to the floor and began to do pushups. It wasn’t enough, but by the time my shoulders began to burn, at least, I had something else to concentrate on.
Eventually, the shower turned off, and a while later, Stevie emerged wearing a new t-shirt and those tight black leggings she’d worn yesterday. Her blue hair was tousled, and her cheeks were pink, but her smile was shy.
“Thanks, Garrak. That felt…good.”
I was standing in the kitchen doorway, trying not to watch her too hungrily, and at that simple sentence, I had to curl my claws into my palm to keep from growling possessively. The thought of Stevie feelinggood—the thought of memakingher feel good…
Damn.
I’m not sure how I made it through the rest of the evening without touching her. Locking myself in my bedroom probably helped. Gods below, I wanted to pull out my cock and stroke it, give myselfsomerelief. But I knew I shouldn’t—Stevie wasn’t just a body to be fantasized about.
Wasn’t a whore, like Hendricks had called her.
