by Kim Knox
His ragged breaths ran hot against her ear, his lips pressed to the lobe. He was close to coming, his thrusts as uneven as his breathing. He would say it; she could almost feel the words in his mind. And if he said them, then she would lose him. Lose him as she’d lost her family. “Ramius, no, please.” But need tore though her. To hear him say—
“I love you.”
Orgasm rioted through her body, surging over her thoughts in a blazing white rush that made her cry out in wild ecstasy. Somewhere in the maelstrom, Ramius followed her, his long groan rippling fresh shivers under her skin. Her arms dropped and only Ramius’ strength held her up. Shaking fingers wiped the sweat and tears from her face. “Bastard,” she muttered, her voice thick, her throat raw. “You bastard.”
He turned her in his arms and made her look at him. His thumb wiped the wetness from her cheek. “I love you. And you can love me. Nothing bad will happen.”
Chance bit her lip wanting to hate him. She closed her eyes, unable to hold his darkened gaze, the affection, the love that warmed it. Something in her felt broken…and it hurt. Ramius wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face in his chest, clinging to him, willing the pain in her chest to ease. She pulled in his scent with every breath, familiar, working deep into her body, reminding her that she was safe with him, that he had protected her. “I don’t do this.” She tasted his skin and it burned hot against her lips. “I wanted it. Wanted you.”
She swallowed and forced herself to look at him. “Anyone I get close to dies.”
Ramius let out a slow sigh. “Am I dead?”
“No.” The word crawled out.
“But you can’t believe it.” A smile lifted his mouth and he eased back. “You need a bath.”
Chance blinked, thrown by his sudden change in subject. He could do that, make it impossible for her to know what he’d do next. She could read anyone…but him. “Ramius…”
He waved to the round bath and waited for her to climb in before he followed her. Gloriously hot water washed up over her legs, belly, breasts, and she let out a slow sigh of satisfaction. A bath. She’d never had a bath. Water had always been too precious a commodity to waste on washing when air-scrubbers did a quicker, less decadent job. She watched her fingers create eddies in the clear water, the hint of apple rising with the steam easing her tight chest.
“Turn around.” Her head snapped up, her heart beating hard, and she found Ramius twitching a smile at her. “I want to wash you.”
“I didn’t want to—”
He took her arm in wet fingers and a shiver ran through her. With too little effort, he slid her around until she sat between his legs, her back to his chest. Hell, she hadn’t fought him. She wanted him, wanted him surrounding her, touching her. She wanted everything he offered, and the thought had terror hot and tight in the pit of her stomach. Her faith in their promised “after” hadn’t been something she truly believed. It was more probable they’d die than live. Now her doubt, her fear, was back to bite her.
Ramius ran slick hands over her shoulders, smoothing over her shoulder blades. His touch was delicious, as decadent as the bath itself. He pressed a kiss to her neck and she shivered. “I should say thank you,” he murmured.
“For what?”
His hands pushed down under the water, shaping her back, his thumbs running lightly down her spine. Chance arched into him. She couldn’t help it. “West paralysed me…”
“Oh, that.” She stared down at her hands, not wanting to dwell on breaking the network of organic implants grown into his nervous system. She could so easily have paralysed him for life. Yes, too much about her interaction with Ramius caused her fear. Her life had always consisted of looking out for herself. “I needed you to keep me alive.”
“Still resisting.” His breath brushed hot against her wet shoulder, raising goose bumps. He sat close, his chest wet against her spine. “And you don’t want to.” He trailed open mouth kisses to the curve of her upper arm, and the warmth of his touch sank deep into her flesh. “Admit it. Face it.”
Chance closed her eyes. She did…but was any of it even real? “Do you really want me, Ramius? Or am I just another part of your curse. A woman you latched onto—”
His laughter broke through her rising voice. “Switching excuses. You’re getting desperate.” He paused and rested his chin against her shoulder. His hands slipped around her hips to stroke over her thighs and she felt him pull in a slow breath, his chest pushing against her spine. “I want to be the man I am with you, the man you need me to be. That isn’t a curse, Chance. It’s freedom.”
“I need you to be this annoying?”
His chin shifted over her skin and she knew he was grinning. She glanced at him and his grin widened. “You demand it.”
Chance gave a reluctant laugh. “I’m crazy.”
“True.” He grunted as she dug her elbow into his rubs, but it didn’t dislodge him from her shoulder, nor slow the caress of his hands over her thighs. “Just try the word. Once. I can feel it burning in your mind.”
“Ramius…” The knot of unease, of fear, tightened. And he was right, bloody telepath. It lurked under her thoughts, under the layer of time and ancient guilt that made her want to say it was just sex. She pulled in a tight breath and closed her eyes tight. The pressure on her chest, the panicked rush to her blood had sweat beading her forehead. People who loved her died. It had been the core of who she was for too long. Yes, too long.
“I…” She bit at her lip and the brief glimpses of her mother, her father, her brothers, fragments of her past she’d clung to in the emptiness of her early memories, burned tears in her eyes. A wet hand wiped at her wet cheek and the futility of the gesture had a smile tugging at her mouth. Ramius’ hands stilled on her thighs and she knew he held his breath. “I love you.”
The three words were little more than a mutter and shit, they still terrified her.
Ramius exhaled, warm air breezing over her shoulder. He rested his forehead against her. “Thank you,” he murmured.
She’d admitted it, yet the fear still lurked. But it had lessened and really, Ramius was worth living with it. She loved him. A grin grew on her mouth. “I still need you for sex, though.” She paused. “I’m governor. I could make it a law.”
Ramius snorted, laughter breaking out. It wrapped warm around her and she echoed it. “You’re going to make me into a law-abiding citizen?”
She turned, splashing and awkward in the hot water, until she knelt between his legs. Her hands cupped his face, her wet thumb teasing over his bottom lip. She couldn’t resist the need to taste him, a brief kiss that forced a moan from the man. “I think you should give being a good citizen serious thought.”
Ramius’ eyes narrowed, but heat darkened them. “I will always give you what you need.”
Chance’s heart missed a beat. For a moment, the responsibility of loving and being loved by him panicked her…but she fought it, pushed down the old terror. The tips of her fingers itched, a sure sign of fun to come, and she smiled at him. “And what do you need…John?”
Something shifted in his gaze, a moment of disbelief before his hands slipped over her waist to cup her arse. “You…Governor.”
Her hands dropped to his shoulders. She loved him, and each time she thought it, let it sink warm into flesh, it became easier, felt right. “I’ll make a good boy of you yet.” And Chance smirked at him.
About the Author
To learn more about Kim Knox, please visit www.kim-knox.co.uk. Send an email to [email protected] or go to her blog to join in the fun with other readers as well as Kim Knox! www.darknessandromance.wordpress.com
Look for these titles by Kim Knox
Now Available:
Satin Spar
Weaving Words
7% and Rising
To Summon a Demon
Nimue’s Price
Buying Mackenzie’s Baby (writing as Kim Rees)
Past Lies (writing as Kim Rees)
&n
bsp; Coming Soon:
Emergence
A prehensile tail has its advantages…
Satin Spar
© 2009 Kim Knox
Scar’s marbled skin and stunted tail aren’t all that make her stand out. Her Caraniae DNA has a strange effect on the male of the species, which makes her career as a pilot perfect. The less interaction she has with people—with men—the better. She won’t risk her wayward pheromones bonding her forever to one man.
Then there’s her boss’s new bodyguard, Anthony Tyler. The pure-human is tight-lipped about his sketchy past. He also seems determined to work her prehensile tail off.
Once imprisoned and drummed out of the Corps for conduct unbecoming, Tyler is intrigued with his ship’s unheard-of, human-Caraniae hybrid. He spent his career fighting her kind, but when a message from home throws Scar into a tailspin, he finds himself drawn to help her in any way he can. Even if it means risking life and limb to help her sweat out her anger.
Their sparring session turns into something else. Something wildly sexual. Something so wrong as to be suicidal—if Scar’s father discovers she’s bonded with anyone other than the husband he’s forcing her to marry…
Warning: This book contains violence, nekkid wrestling and hot, alien-human naughtiness.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Satin Spar:
“What do you want me to do?”
She smiled that wicked Caraniae smile. Her strong thighs gripped him and before he knew exactly how, he was on his back. Surprise had worked his grip free and now she pinned his arms to the cool sand. “You disobeyed orders. How?”
“That’s not what I thought you’d ask.”
She smirked. “Satisfy my curiosity first.”
Time for the sanitised truth, the woman was half-Caraniae after all. “There was a suspected nest. We went in.” The Corps had ordered an atrocity at Vistern Ridge. With the end of the war, they’d buried that order and his career. Tyler pushed back the memories; they were a part of his old life. “I refused to authorise the clean up.”
“And that’s a euphemism for…?”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “It’s not open for discussion.”
Scar leaned forward, pressing deliciously along his erection. Her mouth hovered over his, her lips almost touching. Just a simple tilt of his head would— “Want to discuss it now?”
“Why are you pressing this?”
“What? This?” And she shifted her hips in a slow slide that had him involuntarily thrusting up to meet her. “So…why are you here, Tyler?”
She was still asking him questions. Why the hell was she still asking him questions? “Scar…?”
“Rochester told you who my stepfather is, didn’t he?”
Tyler held down a curse. Sparring with her would’ve seemed natural. Throwing her on her back and offering her whatever she wanted…yes, didn’t he look obvious now? “He mentioned it in passing.”
Scar’s expression was unreadable as she sat up. The friction made him wince. His erection mocked him. “And you just thought you’d drop by, say hello, curry favour?” She wiggled and he sucked in a breath. “Offer me this?”
“That wasn’t planned.”
Her mouth twisted and there was a hardness to her eyes, hiding…what? He wanted to label it nerves, but that would be crazy.
“An unexpected bonus?”
“Scar…”
She leapt up with an unnatural agility and offered her hand. “Let me try not to kill you.”
Tyler grabbed her hand and she pulled him effortlessly to his feet. “Suddenly this is not a good idea.”
“Really?”
Tyler shucked off his jacket and threw it beyond the edge of the arena. His fingers moved to his shirt and stopped. What was he doing? A fight felt more real, more immediate to him when air brushed his skin. But now, that would be so very wrong. He kicked off his boots and pulled at his socks instead. His toes curled into the warming sand.
“Finished?” Scar lifted an eyebrow. “Can we fight now?”
“Impatient for me to beat you?”
She burst forward, but he stopped her attempt to grab him, blocking her with a palm-strike. Dropping, she tried to strike him. Another block. She swung around and struck out again. She was quick, fast and strong. It was fun to play with her—
“You’re grinning. Think this is funny?” She growled and his balls tightened.
He staggered at the kick to his shin. She leapt, crashing him to the sand, and ripped at his shirt. She nipped at his neck with her teeth and Tyler’s vision blurred. Blood raced south. Her scent burned through him and he tugged at her undershirt, the thin cotton tearing across her back.
“Ah, so that’s what you want to play.” Her lips brushed against his throat, searing the words into his skin.
His hands slid down her spine and found her tail curling tight around his right wrist. It squeezed hard. “Scar…” He couldn’t help the low, warning snarl. “This is not playing fair.”
She lifted her head and grinned at him. “I want to fight, not fuck, Tyler.”
She whipped free of him, standing back, her body loose and ready to attack him again. Tyler rolled to his feet and tried to keep his eyes off her small, firm and now very exposed breasts. Fire flickered under his skin and the only thought that consumed him was his need to get her shorts off. Some insane voice in the back of his head screamed that she had to be naked. And so should he.
“Shall we make this interesting?”
Her green eyes narrowed as she edged around him, matching his movements. “Interesting, how?”
“You take a fall, you lose clothing.”
Scar stared down at her body. She looked back up at him from under her lashes, her eyebrow lifting. “I only have these. You have trousers and underwear. What say we make it even first?”
Tyler paused, to give the illusion that he was reluctant. But that small voice wanted his fingers to fly. His mouth pursed. “Fine.” And his trousers pooled at his feet. He threw them and both of their shredded shirts out of the arena. “Happy?”
Her smile was wicked. “When you’re on your back, I will be.”
His cock twitched. Her scent drifted above the sterile odour of the filtered air and the dryness of the sand, something sweet and intoxicating. His chest tightened. He wanted her—
Scar’s foot connected with his knee and he grunted. Muscle instinct took over and he grabbed her arm, yanking her forward and kicking out her legs. She thumped into the sand, face down. Tyler straddled her thighs. “One for me, I think,” he murmured. His fingers slid down her spine, easing over her ribs until he reached her hips. He hooked a finger into her shorts and twanged them.
“Okay, you got this one,” she muttered and he was certain there was a curse mixed in under her breath. “But after I get you…” her head turned and bright green eyes speared him, “…and I will, then the one who beats the other into submission is the winner. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Tyler murmured. “Now I take my reward.”
Love can bloom where nothing else survives.
Strange New World
© 2009 Jennifer Colgan
Wildlife photographer Chase Calder is no stranger to wandering in wilderness areas like the stark Nevada desert. Then a freak electrical storm leaves him strangely disoriented, and he awakens in dangerous territory—as a prisoner in a high-security Air Force base under the scrutiny of a seductive microbiologist.
Undercover Special Ops agent Martina Sanchez finally has the proof she needs to expose the Acheron beam for the danger it is. Not a harmless bio-decontaminate, but a potentially deadly super weapon. She’s also discovered exposure to the beam has more than one unexpected side effect—on her. Chase’s sizzling touch melts her cool, professional resolve.
It also melts steel walls.
Martina risks everything to free Chase before he becomes the next casualty of unauthorized scientific testing. Together they flee to safety, but safe becomes a relative term wh
en their growing passion finally ignites…
Warning: This title contains explicit sex, molten metal and a clingy, wet nightgown.
Enjoy the following excerpt from Strange New World:
“Oh, my…” Martina lifted her finger to trace the perfect indentations of Chase’s hands. Ripples buckled the steel between the two impressions as if they’d been cast in wet resin rather than cold metal.
The ridges between the fingers radiated heat.
“I didn’t—” He stared at his unblemished hands.
“You melted the wall.”
“Yeah…uh. Put it on my bill?” That familiar smirk tilted the corner of his mouth again. Martina’s heart lurched.
“You think this is funny?”
He shrugged and held up his hands. “Hey, I know the government cuts corners. I didn’t think they made holding cells out of Silly Putty.”
“That’s six-inch thick steel.” She rapped on the wall, producing a dull, metallic thud. There was no way to hide the impressions. If someone else saw them… “We have to get you out of here.”
“I agree, but how?”
“I’ll think of something.” She paced the floor, and Calder backed out of her way. “Can you fix them? Smooth them out?”
“Fix them? I don’t even know how I made them.”
“Just try.” She put her hands on his back and pushed him toward the wall. “Put your hands up there.”
He obeyed, but cast a curious glance over his shoulder at her. “Now what?”
“Now think about whatever you were thinking about a few minutes ago. You were angry.”
“I wasn’t angry.”
“What then? Frustrated? Agitated?”
“Horny.”