Sighing, he lifted his hand and moved one of the pieces on the board.
CJ darted a glance at him from the piece he’d just moved to his face and back. “Are you sure you want to move that one?”
Domik shrugged as if it was of no consequence.
She gave him one last look before breaking into a grin. “Check mate!” she cried, dragging her plump pink lip between her teeth and making the move that ended the game. “You really should practice more, Domik.” Her eyes sparkled with humor as she sat back, lifting one eyebrow, her lips quirking.
Domik just shrugged, pushing away from the table to slide out into the cramped walkway that ran through the galley. Big, even for a Taurean warrior, Domik had to contort himself just to get out of the space, his leg banging against CJ’s under the table. His skin burned from the touch, and he froze.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, pausing as he waited for her answer, stomach lurching at the thought he might have caused her some pain, no matter how small.
“Nope, big guy. I’m fine,” she replied, pulling her legs up onto the bench seat so he could move a little easier. “You do you.” She waved her hand in the general direction of his legs.
Domik slid free and stood, stretching his arms over his head to brace against the ceiling of the galley. Sitting in such a cramped position had him needing to stretch. His muscles becoming stiff from lack of movement. As he moved, his tee-shirt pulled free from the waistband of his combat trousers, sliding up over his stomach. A gasp had him frozen in place, looking down at the woman, who was staring up at him intently.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, eyebrows knitting in confusion.
CJ mumbled something under her breath, slipping with enviable ease from her side of the table to stand in front of him. She reached up and tugged at the hem of his black tee-shirt, her fingers brushing briefly against his taught stomach in a delicate caress.
Domik’s breath caught, his abdominal muscles clenching at her whisper light touch. He froze, hands above his head, looking down at where her fingers were still tugging at his shirt.
“Don’t they make clothes big enough for you?” She asked through gritted teeth, as she tried to cover the sliver of exposed bronzed skin.
Domik let his arms drop, the shirt’s hem sliding back into place, his brows knitted in confusion. There was nothing wrong with his clothes. Sure, the shirts he wore were the biggest available, and they pulled tight across his shoulders and chest, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. CJ gave a small harrumph and stepped back, not meeting his eyes. A slight blush coloring her cheeks.
A metallic whoosh had both of them turning to watch the galley door slide open, and Commander Zac Qu’Rell stepped through, Domik taking a step backward and CJ shuffling her feet. The battle-scarred Taurean warrior gave them an assessing look before turning to the replicator and pressing a series of buttons.
Turning his back to the machine, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. One side of his face was badly scarred, giving him a sinister appearance, his bulky size only adding to that impression. He wasn’t as tall as Domik, but Zac had bested him enough on the wrestling mats to know that wasn’t all that mattered. The much-respected commander raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Domik and CJ, the silence in the galley stretching uncomfortably.
Domik, realizing he was still standing in the same spot, turned and tidied the chess set back into its box.
“Who won this time?” Zac asked.
CJ laughed, sounding forced to Domik’s ears. “I did. Again. Didn’t I, big guy?” She smiled up at him before turning to Zac. “Do you need me back on the bridge?”
Zac nodded. “Yes. It’s almost time.”
CJ’s formerly jovial expression dropped, replaced with what Domik thought of as her battle-ready face. “Right. Back to it then.” She left the room, the door sliding shut behind her.
Zac turned to Domik. “You’re still letting her win?”
Domik didn’t reply, shifting the chess set from one hand to the other.
The replicator beeped and Zac turned, pulling two steaming mugs of what smelled like coffee from the machine. “You should tell her how you feel.”
The only sign that Domik had heard the words of his commander was a slight tensing of his shoulders.
“You know I’m right.” Zac titled his head toward the doorway. “She likes you.”
“Like.” Domik snorted and shook his head. “It’s not enough.”
But doesn’t she play chess with you almost every day? It could be a start.
It wasn’t as if there was a lot of choice of company when they were on a mission. Almost everyone else was part of a couple, except for CJ and Domik. It made sense that they would spend time together. Domik strode from the galley, turning down the hallway away from the bridge, his steps fast as if he could escape his own thoughts.
The shuttle was not the smallest vessel he’d worked on, but it wasn’t far from it. Aside from the galley, where they would replicate food and drinks, there was the bridge and a small medical bay. The white space was currently empty, ready for any injured or sick crew member. It was not a long-term treatment facility, as the ship was only used for short reconnaissance missions with a small crew.
Domik continued down the hallway, passing the room that served as sleeping quarters. The tiny space was packed with two sets of bunk beds so close together that Domik’s broad shoulders got jammed in between them if he tried to turn around.
