Page 65 of Tempting Fate

No, I wasn’t going to touch myself. Not in front of them, even if they weren’t sapient.

A large feather floated on the water, easily a foot long, a rich shade of blue that caught the sunshine. Waves lapped the shore, bringing the feather with them. I could grab it before the lake creatures came closer if I was quick.

On a larger wave, I darted forwards, grabbing the feather, and scrambled back up the beach with my prize.

Dark tentacles waved at me from the shallows.

I waved the feather at them, then set it on a large slab of basalt.

Drawing usually helped take my mind off things. The crocus-type flower that grew here had finally bloomed, and I wanted to capture its curves and patterns, the detailed stripes and big, oval stamens glowing with nectar I knew better than to touch. This one was a bright cobalt blue, its leaves a deep teal. I filled page after page with what I could see, a kind of sea-lake holly, a succulent with sprawling leaves and bright pink flowers, along with the feather. I tucked it into my satchel after I’d finished sketching—I’d risked the lakeshore to get it, so it was mine.

I glanced at my comm; later than I thought. I took a few picture of the lake, and sent them to Airida’s comm.

Imani

On my way back. See you soon.

There. Just friends.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Wishful Thinking

Imani

THE DOOR SLID open before I got to it, and I heard Airida’s low, “Come in.”

He was sat in bed, reading something on his new datapad, and he set it down when he saw me. “The lake looked pretty. Thank you for sending me the picture.”

I sat next to him, dropping my bag on the floor. “You’re welcome. I’ll take you out there one day if you like?”

His eyes glinted in the fading sun. “I’d love that. Thank you.” He removed his glasses and swapped them for the mug on the bedside table.

I couldn’t help studying the ripple of his muscles or the strong column of his throat as he swallowed his drink. God, I could watch this man forever and I’d never get tired.

The smile on his face was as broad as mine. Broader, if I was being literal—which, honestly, was my preference. “Imani.”

My name, in that deep rumbling voice, sent shivers through me. I couldn’t ask him to say it again, could I? “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. Thank you.” He groaned and slid down the bed, absent-mindedly palming himself. “Help?”

“Of course.” I grabbed a towel and scooched the chair closer.

Odd how it was no longer surreal to uncover his dick and wrap my hand around it. I’d done it enough times that it became part of being Imani and Airida.

As I started to move, he hissed.

“Are you okay?”

“It hurts. Like it’s sore, not just kalidi. Perhaps because of how often this is required.”

“Oh.” I should have thought of this. But that would have taken my mind in all manner of directions it had no business in going. “I don’t have to use a dry hand, you know.”

“There are other options?”

Oh, such as the variety of lubes in the sex shop, maybe the cooling one to ease the burn of kalidi. Or oil. Saliva.

Maybe the numbing lube so I can edge him till he’s leaking and begging.