She lay on her side, one arm stretched under her head beneath a pillow, her blond hair fanned around her face like Saturn’s halo. Her long blond eyelashes hadn’t so much as fluttered at his words. Words he couldn’t repeat, not when wonder had sucked the saliva from his mouth, leaving it dry as the Martian desert.
Where had she come from? And why wasn’t she affected by the instability in the time continuum that had killed every woman on the planet for the past three centuries? Was it possible the alien machinery had finally broken? Had someone turned it off?
Kendar didn’t know.
He let his gaze feast on the smoothness of her complexion that reminded him of ripe melon, dewy fresh with morning condensation. With the delicate arch of her neck, her straight nose and the feminine crescent of her brows, delightful as sunrise, she was as unique and rare as a Martian ruby.
A woman. On Mars. Bless the stars! Who would have thought?
Leaning forward, he sniffed. Her scent reminded him of sweet cakes filled with ripe cherries, persimmons and pomegranate; a springtime banquet in bloom. So different from his hard body, her skin, sleek and smooth as violet petals, lush as a lily, called to him like sweet starlight. Like a kid unable to resist a treat, he traced one fingertip over her cheek, brushed back her hair and marveled at the sudden desire coursing through his veins. Despite three centuries of men without women on this planet, his body had still not been conditioned to forget that for millions of years women were meant to be men’s partners.
Although she shouldn’t be here, his body responded to her like a flower rising to the sun. His blood went straight to his groin, until he ached with a need to spend his seed. Shifting uncomfortably, he tried to remain calm. His mind must be playing tricks on him. Perhaps he was suffering from oxygen deprivation, because she looked so much like the woman in his fantasy that he had to question his sanity.
Had studying Sara, fantasizing about Sara, finally driven him over the edge?
Martian men satisfied their basic needs with holosex. The simulations were supposed to be realistic—but Kendar now knew that the hyped-up fabrications were simply a poor imitation of a living, breathing woman. No holovision had this woman’s sleek, yet lush lines of deliciousness. No holovision could inspire the purpose and rightness that he felt just standing beside this woman.
And Kendar had enough knowledge of the past to realize that the holosex creations were meant to relieve men’s basic urges in ways fast, mechanical and efficient, not necessarily the same way a real woman would receive a partner. According to his research, women needed priming to feel sexual desire. They required stroking, kissing, feelings of intimacy to turn on their passions.
His hands itched to touch. His tongue yearned to taste. His flesh ached to feel her against him.
Would this woman be receptive to his touch?
She hadn’t moved when he’d trailed his fingertip over her cheek. She hadn’t awakened when he’d spoken to her. He’d read that women liked to sleep nestled against the warmth of a man. Should he join her on the platform?
Every trembling electromagnetic pulse in his body told him this was the opportunity of a lifetime. He didn’t want to blow the chance by making a wrong move. Bless the stars. Between moans, the holosex women always told him that he was a wonderful lover, but would a real woman react the same way? Would she welcome his caress?
Or tell him to blow it out an airlock?
DEEP IN HER erotic dream, Sara cuddled into the source of heat, her mind fuzzy from the shot and drugs, her thoughts unfocused. But that was okay. Because dreams were safe. Arching her breasts, belly and thighs into the penetrating warmth, she sighed in sleepy satisfaction. Rolling to her side, she curled a thigh and calf around the heat source, like a cat soaking up sunshine.
“Nice,” she murmured, her throat husky.
Her head pillowed, her body nestled securely, she opened her eyes and stared into violet eyes. Eyes of a stranger. A face like his, she would have remembered. The bold nose. The dimple as he smiled at her. The sexy trace of beard that indicated he hadn’t shaved that day. But what she liked best was his scent. He smelled of fresh air and a spring forest that reminded her of a favorite beach, where powdery white sand and sapphire waves lapped her feet. But never had she shared that fantasy with a man so gorgeous. This was the best dream she’d ever had.
“I’m Kendar.”
“Sara,” she introduced herself. The analytical part of her brain kicked in, telling her this stranger shouldn’t be in her dream, shouldn’t be holding her so closely, shouldn’t be comforting her with his heat. Yet alarm barely registered in her consciousness. Tilting her head back, she gazed at him, noting the intensity in his eyes and the sensual curve of his mouth. “I’m supposed to sleep alone.”
“But now that I’m here, may I stay?” That he asked her permission chased away all worries that he might be dangerous. And besides, it was only a dream induced by the hibernating hypomist drugs. She might as well enjoy him. What woman could resist sleeping in such warm, strong arms? Only her subconscious could produce such an attractive man with such an agreeable attitude.
And any woman in her right mind would adore that strong jaw, slanted at an angle that revealed character and sensuality. Any woman would want a man like Kendar as a pleasure partner. Even lying down, he seemed tall, well formed, muscular. His shoulder pillowed her head with a strength that fired her imagination and enticed her fancy. She’d intended to take a Martian lover. Indulging in such a vivid dream was good preparation. The experience might even fulfill her needs and let her concentrate on work.
Later she’d immerse herself in work. Now, seemed the perfect time to play and give her passion free rein.
She ran a hand over his broad chest, the whorls of dark chest hair tickling her fingertips, then tilted her head back and chuckled. “I don’t want you to leave. But how did you get here?”
He raised a speculative brow, his eyes twinkling cool violet. “I was about to ask you the same question.”
“Professor Dixon arranged for this chamber to open only to my touch. But you got in. How?”
“Did you say Professor Dixon?” Never before had her dreams and her conversations in dreams been so clear, so coherent, which made the experience even more pleasurable as he ran his hand up and down her arm, as if to warm her. However, the motion was slow, studied, languid, almost as if he’d never touched an arm before, and the care he took pleased her. She noted that he hadn’t told her how he’d gotten inside the chamber, but she couldn’t summon any genuine concern, not when he stirred her senses into a caldron of interest.
“Well, now that we’re colleagues and no longer student and professor, I suppose I should call him Dr. Dixon. He requested that I join him on the dig. Is something wrong?”
Kendar shook his head, but his hand never stopped caressing or shooting pleasant tingles. “Nothing. It must be a coincidence.”
“What?”
“Dr. Dixon was the name of the archeologist who found this site.”
She trailed her fingers down his chest to discover he wasn’t wearing any clothes. Mmm. Interesting. More than interesting. “And?”
“Nothing.” At her intimate touch, he sucked in an audible gasp of air. Her fingers closed about his rod and she laughed. “This doesn’t feel like nothing.”
“I please you?”
His question was sweet. She couldn’t recall the last time a pleasure partner had asked for approval. In fact, it had been so long since she’d taken time to enjoy a man that she couldn’t remember if she’d ever been so relaxed. Usually, she found the getting-to-know-you process a chore and the removing-the-clothes procedure uncomfortable. But right now she resented her sleeping clothes that prevented her from pressing bare flesh against his heat. She wanted…wanted him with an urgency that startled her.
She wanted to go with the flow. Enjoy herself. And him. There was no reason to send such a delicious man away. After all, he was only a drug-induced dream.
&n
bsp; Lifting heavy eyelids, she murmured, “It would please me if you kissed me.”
CHAPTER TWO
KENDAR COULD THINK of nothing but pleasing her. He couldn’t think about the apparent cave-in. He couldn’t think about the missing security. Or why he hadn’t heard even one rumor about a living, breathing woman on Mars. Sometimes a man had to go on instinct. And right now his instincts told him that pleasing Sara was the most important task on Mars—a task he intended to savor like a ten-course feast.
“Where do you want me to kiss you?” He bent his neck to nip her ear for a taste of succulent ambrosia, and breathed in a whiff of heaven. When he pulled back the magic of her eyes shone as bright as Vega. “Here?”
She reached up and threaded her hands into his hair as if it was the most normal reaction in the world. But the scintillating touch of her fingertips rocked him into a spin. He hadn’t known that a touch could be gentle and urgent at the same time. He hadn’t known her response would make his heart pummel his ribs or that his ears would rush with a roaring bliss far more turbulent than a rocket launch.
“Mmm.” She tugged his head closer. Her blue eyes, wide and deep as Earth’s Pacific Ocean, locked with his. “Kiss me on the mouth.”
He almost complied, but stopped, recalling from some forgotten text, that anticipation increased desire. So as much as he yearned to bring his lips to hers, he kissed her brow, instead. Planting a row of tiny kisses across her face, he memorized the line of her forehead and eyelids, trailed kisses over her angled cheekbones, admired the slant of her straight nose. The dilation of her pupils and the pulse throbbing at her temple told him that waiting to kiss her delectable lips had been the right move.
And he was learning that anticipation increased desire not just for her, but for him, too. He hadn’t known he could grow so hard. He hadn’t understood that until now sex had been a purely mechanical, efficient, unemotional experience. He’d always suspected a life without women was lacking, and now he knew it to be true. With Sara, he felt things, not just desire, but a yen for companionship, a yearning for completion, a wish to make the experience the best it could be—for both of them.
With a mix of tenderness and lust, finally, ever so slowly, he lightly brushed her lips with his. His mouth tingled from her softness, spreading heat into his core as if he’d drunk fine brandy. And when her lips parted beneath his and the tips of their tongues tangled, he groaned as need whipped him into a frenzy of lust.
Torn between wanting her now and making the experience last as long as possible, he pulled back to give his whirling sensations a chance to recover. But Sara was pulling her sleeping top over her head to reveal tempting skin that glistened burnished bronze under the light of the oil lamps and invited his delving into every shadow. At the sight of her magnificent breasts, he swallowed hard. The coral nipples pebbled, and, riveted, he stared.
“You’re beautiful.”
She laughed. “Don’t you want to touch me?”
“Absolutely.”
She reached for his hands and placed them so that he cupped her softness. Never had he felt anything so supple. As she breathed, her flesh filled his palms and he felt as though he was holding a precious gift, a rare poem, an erotic song. Instinct told him to take the utmost care of such delicate skin. As he flicked his thumbs over her nipples, he watched her eyes darken, her breath come faster, and as she hooked her thumbs into her pajama bottoms to pull them down, he rolled her to her back, straddled her hips, trapping her hands against her sides with his knees.
Surprised, her eyes widened, her voice went low, vibrating with excitement. “My hands…are caught.”
“I know.”
And then he very gently pinched her nipples. Her back arched and she released a low, encouraging moan. “Lick me.”
“Soon,” he promised, wishing to please her. He wanted to take her tender flesh into his mouth, and part of him felt that holding back was crazy, and yet the other part knew how much pleasure he was giving her. Besides, it turned him on. He liked keeping her guessing. Liked the way she seemed unable to keep her hips from bucking under him. Liked that she didn’t seem to mind giving up control.
If this was insanity, he intended to make the most of the experience. So many times he’d dreamed of doing whatever he wanted to Sara. And now she was under him, her flesh sunny, sizzling, submitting. He couldn’t explain it. He couldn’t even question it. He had no idea what was going on, but he intended to take his fill. He wished for her to want him as much as he wanted her. Determined to wait for that cherished moment, he stroked light circles over her breasts and teased quiet caresses on her belly.
Leaning forward for another delicious kiss, he was careful to keep her hands trapped, noting she hadn’t tried very hard to free them. When the tips of her breasts beaded against his chest, she moaned prettily into his mouth. “Kendar.”
“Yes, sweet Sara?”
“I’m burning up.”
“We’re burning together.” And then he took her nipple between his teeth, the other between his fingers and pinched.
“Ohhh…oh…my.”
With his tongue he laved away her tiny prickles of pain, watched heat flush her chest, saw her breasts swell and her eyes grow languid with desire. She would have thrashed in pleasure but he held her firmly, carefully watching her blossoming reactions to keep her well tended and aroused.
“Tell me how you feel,” he demanded as he lifted her breasts, tweaked her nipples harder with his thumb and forefinger.
“Please…” Her head shook from side to side. “I want to make love.”
“We are.” He caressed her neck, her collarbone, her belly, enjoying every quiver.
She thrust up her hips. “I want you inside me.”
“I want that, too. I’ve been waiting a lifetime for you,” he admitted.
“You sound…as if…you mean it.”
“Of course, I mean it. It’s not every day a man on Mars finds such a creature as gorgeous as you.”
She arched her eyebrows, her mouth teasing, tempting, enticing. “You haven’t seen my legs, yet.”
“Or your back. Or your bottom. Or your toes. But somehow,” he squeezed her breasts, “I find I’m quite…content.”
Now that was an outright lie. How could he be content when every inch of him longed to be inside her? Ever so glad that he was no longer a lad and had excellent control, he was nowhere near his limit. His brow might bead with sweat. His heart might have pumped all his blood below his waist. But as long as he could hold out, he planned to explore every delectable part of her.
As a womanologist, he knew men often misinterpreted woman’s signals. And while she was apparently urging him to go faster, contradictorily, she was clearly enjoying the wait, as well as the fact that he’d taken charge.
Kendar had no idea how long he could last, but one thing he knew for sure—he might never have another experience like this one, whatever the stars it was. Like a precious treat of which he wanted to savor each lick and every delectable flavor, he’d make this encounter erotic and exotic and so very good for both of them. Relishing the soft taste and sweet texture of her breasts, he learned the exact amount of playful friction to induce the most pleasure by monitoring her quick pants of need, the fluttering pulse at her neck, her fingers clenching at her sides, as well as the puckering of her nipples.
And when she pleaded with him for more, he finally released her hands, but insisted on removing the pajama bottoms. Tugging down the material, he revealed flaring hips and a flat tummy, the curls at her mons, her contoured legs, lovely plump thighs and smooth, feminine skin. Even her toes were sexy with their bright lavender-polished nails.
When he urged her feet apart to make room for him between her knees, she stiffened.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She was lying. He could hear it in the tremor of her voice. The idea that he had done something to cause her reluctance, that he would cause his sweet Sara a moment of
discomfort, hurt him, shook him, gave him doubts. Had he done something wrong? Violated some taboo? Gone too slowly? Too quickly? He’d wanted to do this right. He wanted her to have pleasure.
Lightly, he caressed the inside of her calves and knees. “Despite what you may have heard about Martian men, we cannot read minds.”
“Huh?”
“I’d like to know what’s bothering you, but unless you tell me…”
“I’m fine. You’re great. This is the best dream I’ve ever had.”
Dream? What was she talking about? Was dream a euphemism for lovemaking? He trailed his fingers higher up her thighs and noted her trembling response. Her legs relaxed a bit, and he inhaled a whiff of her enticing, intimate scent. “But?”
“I’ve never done this with the lights on,” she finally admitted.
He brushed a finger over her lips. Should he offer to turn them down? He would do so if she insisted, but the ache to see all of her was so powerful, he resisted. “But you’re so beautiful.” He stroked, caressed. “Everywhere.” In spite of her shyness, her knees parted another inch. “When you spread your legs, it’s like a crystal showing off the most precious of facets.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Besides, there’s no bashfulness allowed in dreams,” he said, trying another tactic.
“If you say so.” She sounded unsure, yet her body quivered with eagerness. “Are you a poet?”
“Usually, I’m…not much of a talker, but with you, I seem to be quite verbal.” He delved between her thighs, pleased by her moisture, then peeled back lips as soft as Dedan petals to see…her nectar. As she sucked in a breath of air, he laughed. “I’m also quite physical.”
Dipping his fingers into her dampness, he spread her wetness over her pink center. He had no idea if his words reassured her, or if his actions made her forget her strange shyness, but he was simply grateful for the lights that allowed him to watch the expressions play across her face. She’d closed her eyes, flinging one arm over her forehead. Her lips alternately pouted or tightened and tiny moans of pleasure came from the back of her throat.
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