“Be still,” he barked, and she froze. Although his tone was harsh, there was a tilt to his lips, and she was not afraid.
The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he groaned. “That tongue of yours is going to do all sorts of things to me.” He gripped the zipper at the top of his flight suit, a different one to what he had worn before, she noted absently.
“That’s a new flight suit.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “As if I would bring myself anywhere near you without being clean.”
She watched, transfixed, as his hand slowly drove the zipper downwards, the teeth unclenching to open, displaying his broad, well-muscled chest beneath. His skin was a deep bronze in some places and golden in others.
“Everywhere your eyes touch me, you will kiss me,” he purred.
She rubbed her thighs together, trying to get some relief.
“Did I say you could move?”
She shook her head and froze.
“So stay still.”
She nodded, watching the hand that had stopped, the zipper pull now just below his navel. She almost choked as the muscles of his flat stomach were revealed. Was that an eight pack? Who had one of those?
“Where will you kiss me?” His voice was deeper, each word spoken slowly as if they had all the time in the universe.
“Everywhere,” she whispered, willing his hand to just move. She wanted to scream with frustration as he let the zipper pull go and spread his hands wide.
“Do you like what you see, Krystal?” He grinned and winked at her.
“Take it off,” she demanded, meeting his eyes briefly before focusing again at that tantalizing glimpse of abdomen.
He didn’t move.
“Please, T’arq.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” he said, turning his back on her and pulling his arms from the flight suit, the one-piece garment slithering down his torso, stopping its descent at his hips. The muscles in his back bunched as he moved unhurriedly.
She groaned in frustration, and he shot a look at her over his shoulder. Dear God, this man would be the end of her!
“Is this what you wanted?”
“No.”
He lifted the suit back up as if to shrug back into it.
“Stop! You know what I mean. Take it off, please. You’re killing me!” She gave in and slipped a hand between her legs under her panties, desperately seeking the satisfaction she craved. She rolled her fingers over her clit, just the way she liked it.
“Krystal.” The word was uttered on a growl and her eyes flew open—when had she shut them—to see T’arq staring at her over his shoulder with a frown. Shit.
She whipped her hand out of her pants. “Sorry.”
“You will be.”
Oh boy. If one could die of sexual frustration, then that was the way she would surely go.
Still standing with his back to her, his hand moved in front of him and she itched to see what he was doing, but dared not move again. She strained to hear, but her pulse was so loud in her ears it made no difference.
His flight suit slid a little lower, catching on the swell of his muscular backside. He spread his legs a little wider, and the suit slipped down his legs to catch on the tops of his thighs.
Fuck. That was one hell of an ass.
