own the best we could. Sure, a Prillon doctor or Atlan nurse would rush to help a fallen Earth fighter, but something about seeing a human face out here in deep space mattered to the warriors who were lying there bleeding. Dying. Missing home with every breath in their body, afraid they were going to die on the other side of the galaxy.
I lived here now, MedRec Zenith with the rest of my team. I’d been to more planets and seen more alien races than most in this bar. Yet, I’d never seen anything like him.
My mouth watered, and I itched to touch the stubble on his square jaw as he squeezed my hand. I had no idea how long I’d been standing, thinking, staring at him like a mute, but his eyes never left my face. Rovo was completely forgotten. The alien hottie was utterly and completely focused. On me. On the small scratch in the middle of my palm.
“You should have had this healed with a ReGen wand.” He didn’t wait for me to argue, only pulled one from somewhere on his pants, turned the blue light on and waved it over my palm.
I’d been in space for almost two years, even used the healing wand on the wounded, and I still wasn’t used to the healing device. It—along with the more complicated ReGeneration Pod—was miraculous. Within seconds, the wound on my palm knitted closed, turned pink and then disappeared entirely. It had stung before, but I felt nothing now. Numb.
“Thank you,” I said once he turned off the wand. While it was polite, it felt wrong somehow. Wrong to walk away without a mark or a scar when the sight of Henry in that transport coffin heading back to Earth still burned the back of my eyelids.
“Why didn’t you take care of yourself?” he asked. I noticed a sharper bite to his voice, and I glanced up from our joined hands.
“It was a scratch.” I offered him a small shrug and looked up into his eyes. Couldn’t look away. I couldn’t lie. Didn’t want to, so I swallowed and shared my feelings. Yes, feelings. The things I hid so damn well. “And I needed the whiskey more than I needed a healer.”
He slowly shook his head as his thumb slid back and forth over the newly healed flesh. “I am glad I was here then, to tend to you.”
So serious. His attention was addictive, the caress making me shiver with delight. I didn’t want to pull my hand from his.
Deep shit. That’s what this was. Trouble. And I wanted it. I wanted him.
It was time to lighten things back up, to enjoy my break between missions. There wasn’t much time for a fling with a mysterious alien man I’d never seen before, and one who’d be gone in a matter of hours, most likely never to be seen again. A fling? No. A quick fuck? Maybe that could work. But I sure as heck didn’t want to be in the middle of hot sex with a stranger and have the mission alarms trigger.
Hold that orgasm, dear. I have to go…
There would be no leaving in the middle. Not with this guy. But I really wanted the orgasm—or two—that I knew he’d give me.
He wasn’t wearing the uniform of any Coalition branch I recognized. He wore unrelenting black from head to toe—even his hair was as dark as pitch. He had a thick silver stripe around one bicep, but no other variation. Only his eyes held color. Green. He was pale, perhaps even paler than me, which was surprising since I was full-on Nordic blonde, with an Irish dad and mom’s family history traced back to Norway. I burned just talking about the sun.
“Lucky me.” I gave my coyest smile. I was no expert at flirting, but I wasn’t a shy virgin either. This would go nowhere past a quickie. I’d never see him again once the next call came down. So why the hell not? For now, I’d have fun, remember that I was a woman—even in the unisex, bland uniform—and that he was very much a male.
He turned his hand, interlocking our fingers. “Do you have wounds anywhere else?”
“No.” Sex-on-a-stick didn’t let go of my hand. He was the most amazing specimen of a male I’d ever seen. And I’d been around. Los Angeles was full of man candy, actors and models, surfers and musicians. I came from the land of silicone breasts, Botox and gluteal implants where nothing was real and everyone was gorgeous.
And none of them held a candle to him.
The last two years had been rewarding, and grueling. Most people burned out by the end of their service. I wasn’t there yet, but I was doing some serious flirting with an alien stranger, so perhaps I was showing signs of stress in a completely different way.
Sex could be a good stress reliever. Especially with Joe Manganiello’s alien doppelganger. He’d give me orgasms. Lots of them. Then I could go on my next mission as relaxed and pliable as saltwater taffy.
His gaze dropped and raked over my body, making my nipples harden beneath my bright green uniform. Green meant medical in the Coalition. The docs wore dark, forest green, while we got this lighter version, like emeralds. The color brought out my eyes, I’d been told. There was a thick band of black that hugged the torso. Of course, on the women like me, it only served to highlight the curve of our breasts. I was sure if he wore it instead of his unrelenting black, it would make his chest seem broader. Like that was even possible. He was built like a tank.
He cocked his head to the side and leaned in closer, inhaling deeply. “I still smell blood, female. I am not sure if I believe you. If you were mine, I would strip you bare and assess every inch of your perfect body to ensure you are completely well.”
That made me grin. “You don’t believe me?”
“If you were lying, keeping something as important as your health and safety from me, you would not like the consequences.”
“Consequences?” My heart leapt at the word. I widened my eyes and waited for him to elaborate. My tongue flicked out to lick my suddenly dry lips.
“Punishment,” he said as his eyes followed the motion.
My mouth fell open. I should have been scared. A stranger. An alien stranger, wearing a uniform from an unknown planet, was talking about potentially hurting me. Perhaps he was a mind reader because he said, “I do not hurt females. I protect them, even, it seems, from themselves. A spanking would certainly remind you that there would be no secrets, that your body was mine to care for, to worship.”
Had he just said spanking? As in his big, hot hand on my naked backside? Why was that idea so damn hot? I licked my lips again. “You want to worship me?”
His eyes turned darker. While he kept our fingers intertwined, he hooked his other hand about my waist and tugged me closer. “What I will do to you…” He shuddered and leaned in, his breath fanning my neck as his nose brushed over the curve of my ear. We weren’t alone; the canteen was at least half full, yet it seemed as if we were in our own little bubble. A bubble where all I could see was him. All I could hear was his deep voice. “Learn every soft curve. I’ll find the places that make you catch your breath, that make you shiver with desire. I’ll taste your skin. Your pussy. And that’s all just the beginning. I will worship you with my mouth.”
To say the temperature of the room went way up was an understatement. My uniform was all at once uncomfortable and had too much fabric. I wanted his palm to be touching the bare skin on my back, and preferably moving a few inches lower so he could grab my—
“Do you want to know what I’d do with my fingers?” He pulled back and dipped his chin so our eyes met. Locked. “Or my cock?”
I
