The words about Calya herself were… true. She’d have said the same. Yet, to know they came from Lowe’s hand left a bitterness in her mouth.
Tucking the pad back into the blanket, she returned to the bed, hesitating at its edge. Lowe lay on his back, one hand resting atop his ribs. Even in sleep, his features held on to the remnants of a scowl.
Ambitious, reckless. Do not trust.
He was right not to. She knew it, and still, Calya wished, just a little, that she could prove to him… not that he was wrong, but that she was more than those words. A small part of her saw this gruff ranger whose path kept crossing her life and wanted to take it as a sign. Wanted to let him in. Wanted him to see through her thorns.
Disgust with herself rose up. Calya nearly voiced it before remembering to stay quiet. Gods all break, clearly the aphrodisiac was wreaking havoc on her hormones for her to be entertaining such sentimental drivel. Lowe was nice to look at, and equally nice to ride. He might be a joyless grump, but he wasn’t a stingy partner. Quite the opposite. Definitely a better choice for the storm than Orren.
Calya tugged down the blanket draped over his bottom half, exposing his groin.
Yep. Very nice, in looks and feel.
The Kiss reminded her that there were other senses yet to be assessed. Plenty of nighttime left, and actually, no longer a need for silence.
Calya slid back onto the bed. She drew her finger along the length of his shaft, smirking to herself when Lowe stirred.
Easing down next to him, she took his cock into her mouth. Slowly sucked her way down until her nose just started to tickle the trail of hairs leading to his groin. She hummed as his cock began to harden, forcing her lips farther apart.
Lowe jerked awake, groping along the sheets. One hand caught in her hair, but she brushed him away, giving him another lazy suck.
“Calya, what are…” Lowe mumbled, groggy with sleep.
Nice to know he hadn’t been faking it, the secret of her nocturnal adventures safe.
She released his cock with a wet pop. “Do you remember my ground rules?” she asked, tongue tracing the head of his cock. “I asked for two orgasms.”
Calya met his gaze as her lips reached out to kiss away the bead of arousal forming at his slit.
“You gave me three.”
Chapter Nine
In general, goodbyes weren’t Calya’s style. As for the first morning following a passionate but ultimately meaningless evening— absolutely tedious. She loathed navigating someone else’s awkward feelings as they came to terms with their actions and determined their new comfort. Or lack thereof. Best to avoid it altogether. Would Lowe be clingy or aghast or have some inflated belief that he now owned a share of her time? Calya would happily never know. How silly of her, to have entertained sentiment last night. Self-pity, wanting him to see the real her. Thank the Goddess she hadn’t given voice to such weakness.
She eased out of his bed once more as the blue light of predawn fought its way through the clouded porthole. Lowe didn’t move, one arm resting above his head.
Calya lingered, allowing herself a final moment to enjoy the sight of him, unimpeded. It would have to be her last. She had work to do, and didn’t have the time or inclination to convince him of the merits of a casual arrangement. A shame, because once Lowe had gotten on board last night, he’d proven Calya’s worry of him being a prude quite false.
She hadn’t even been able to properly suck him off before he’d bent her over the bed and finished himself inside her. Not that she was complaining, since he’d made sure she came, too. Twice. And sure, some of that was motivated by his own pleasure, as he’d growled nonsense into her ear about how it felt to have her come undone all over his cock. Still, he was a conscientious lover. Possibly her best. One of. No point in putting him on a pedestal. Even if his body deserved such placement and he had the skills to match. Calya could appreciate his rugged approximation of handsomeness.
Such a pity that the timing didn’t work out. Or the location. Or his profession… Really, nothing about their circumstances was favorable to further dealings.
Quietly donning her clothes, Calya inched the deadbolt on the cabin door open and made her escape.
By the time the windrunner received its docking orders for the Landing’s small but surprisingly busy port, Calya was ready to face the day.
Washed up and in a fresh set of clothes, she stood on the deck to watch their approach. The effects of the Scarlett Kiss dwindled, helped along by the crisp winter air and the first real, solid food she’d been able to keep down in days.
When Lowe emerged from below deck, she gave him a polite nod before returning to the list she’d made of immediate tasks to run down upon disembarking. The action was a simple, undramatic message, a signal of moving on. Both for him and the twinge of desire that bloomed in her chest at the sight of him. A last vestige of her enchanted hormones, nothing more.
“Miss Helm.” Orren joined her at the deck rail. “We should review the itinerary for our movements on?—”
“Lieutenant, we both have priorities for our companies. I don’t require an escort.”
He shifted uneasily, his agreement in conflict with whatever missive Wembly and Brint had put in his head. “Have you ever been to the Landing?” he asked.
“No, is that a problem?” Calya replied. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d try to micromanage my affairs.”
