by Jan Irving
Grinning, Jenny slipped her hand under the sheet and over his chest and down his six pack and—whoa—wrapped her hand around him.
“My great big beast, huh? I don’t know, feel like walking?”
Coming Soon from Totally Bound Publishing:
Loving You
Jan Irving
Released 11th April 2014
Excerpt
Chapter One
The rumors are true—Kealton James works out in the nude.
Gwendolyn Thompson shifted deeper into a discreet pocket created by the ship’s bulkhead. Fortunately, a large tropical plant also served to screen her generous curves from view.
And quite a view it was. Despite the late hour—the designated sleep time—Kealton was running through katas, whirling and striking as though he faced a deadly opponent, his naked body oiled with fresh sweat. It was nothing like the easy-going martial arts instruction he typically offered passengers aboard the Loving Kindness cruise ship as it navigated a leisurely path between planets.
Kealton was mesmerizing, his shoulder-length blond hair caught back in a silver clip snapping against his body as he kicked out one muscled leg. He whirled, leaping high, his indigo blue eyes seeming to hold hers for a heart-stopping moment. But it couldn’t be. If he knew she was here spying on him, surely he would stop, demand that she leave. It wasn’t as though they were friends—not exactly. She wasn’t sure what they were. It was as though, whenever she was around him, she lost her balance, her sea legs. She wanted to get closer to him as much as she wanted to avoid him.
He swung, sinewy back to her, each muscle articulated like a lean tiger about to spring. He moved as gracefully as the kelp on Seta III, undulating in the seabed. His hips, the backs of his thighs, his tight ass.
Gwen rubbed her palms against her own plumper thighs, perspiration breaking out on her upper lip. Just that morning they’d been sniping at each other in the cafeteria, but now she wanted to be underneath him, wanted all that sweaty ferocity inside her, pleasing her.
It made her feel helpless to be so…out of control, but he had the power to make her feel that way.
She’d watched Kealton covertly for months, long enough now to recognize some of the stances of his martial arts routine. Grasshopper, shifting into leopard, legs spread, then up to one side for snake. Feel the rise of dragon. Strike like tiger, at last coming to rest with xiau hung.
He hung his head, big chest moving rapidly as he reached up and yanked the clip from his hair so it tangled around his damp skin in ringlets. His nipples were beaded, surrounded by a chest so slick it looked as though it had been oiled by an appreciative hand. He ran fingers over his pectorals and down his abdomen, stopping only when he’d also touched his cock.
Gwen couldn’t keep a small sound from escaping. Shock? Want? She wasn’t sure. The man had absolutely no shame. He obviously liked to touch himself freely, and even though she knew he believed he was alone, it was almost as if he was performing for her, showing her where he wanted her to touch him.
When Kealton gave a mocking bow in her direction, Gwen’s heart leaped into her throat. Caught!
But as her tight shoulders fell, she knew that of course he had seen her. In the time she’d known this reserved man, he’d been like one of his ancient katana swords in the midst of their easy-going crew—sharp and lethal. He stood apart, and because of her past, Gwen had her suspicions about his personal history. So far she’d made little headway in confirming it, despite using some of her mother’s old contacts in the Alliance military.
According to his personnel file, before he’d come aboard the Loving Kindness, Kealton had worked on two other cruise ships. But it didn’t jive with the man who had been so aloof and watchful when he had first come aboard.
Gwen stepped from her hiding place, trying to keep her eyes on his face and not on his toned lower body and heavy cock. He was still stroking it, and it hardened, so she flushed, but she didn’t look away.
Damn him, he was trying to provoke her.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You weren’t intruding,” he said, his voice whisper-soft as a blade cutting through air. As always it made a strange sensation curl low in her spine, as if he’d grazed a finger over her backbone.
She stared into his dark eyes. He said nothing, waiting, so she was aware of her pulse beating a nervous tattoo in her ears. It occurred to her that when they’d argued, she’d been as much at fault as he was. She knew it was because she was afraid that if she gave herself a moment to simply look at the man, she’d invite him back to her cabin, break her own rules about getting involved with fellow crew members.
Kealton was deep waters. A smart woman kept her distance or risked being pulled under.
She cleared her throat. “I came to discuss the next rotation of duties, but when I opened the door to your, uh—”
“Dojo. I call this my dojo.”
She blinked. Kealton was nothing like Mr Wallington, their previous martial arts instructor. That former employee had never bothered to give a name to the small studio covered with woven mats—but neither had he haunted her thoughts the way enigmatic Kealton did. “Right. You were”—she held his look with an effort—“busy, and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“More like when you walked in and found me doing katas in the nude, it was too late to politely retreat to safer waters,” he said, and his lips quirked. He moved closer, put one lean arm against the wall so that she could smell the hot musk from his workout, see a line of sweat running down his chest. “Isn’t this the time you usually start clawing at me? Let’s see, at breakfast rotation it was over my lack of support for the finger painting contest running on D Deck this week.”
“Come on. You know it wasn’t finger painting.” Her lips quirked as well. “It was painting murals with acrylics.”
“Right.”
“It’s always good when the crew participate.”
“I wasn’t interested. But I think we both know the real reason you like to give me a hard time.”
“You scare me.”
“I scare you.”
Gwen rubbed her forehead. “You’re an unusual man,” she said. “You don’t fit in with the rest of the crew.”
“And as our perky cruise director, it’s your job to make sure everyone is having a good time,” Kealton said. “Fitting in.”
“Shouldn’t you…? Okay, I give up. Can I get you a towel or something?” Gwen asked. The only way she could stop sneaking a look at his heavy erection was if it was covered up. Maybe.
“Distracted?”
“Yes.” Gwen wanted to touch him, to feel that coat of moisture on hard, smooth skin. The man didn’t look like he’d done a bout of martial arts, but more like a bout of sweaty sex. Sex done the right way, so it was hard, long, clawing-someone’s-back, coming-more-than-once sex.
Not that she’d know about that, since she’d never had it. But she had a feeling Kealton knew all about how to give it to a woman.
Kealton smiled, and a dimple appeared in his left cheek. “Good. I was hoping you’d notice.”
Gwen felt her eyes widen as he reached over and picked up what looked like a black rectangle of fabric. It turned out to be a loincloth.
“Well, that’s just worse,” Gwen said wryly. “It makes you look even more, um…” He was still beautifully erect, like a secret, erotic statue she might look at alone in her room, his cock outlined by the silk. Now she couldn’t take her eyes off him. What would he do if she dropped to her knees and put her lips against him, mouthing him through the cloth? Would his taste come through the material? Would his hands grip her head as he gasped while she pleasured him? Would he order her to take all of him, to suck him until he came deep in her mouth?
It looked like she’d have another sleepless night, wondering about him, wondering what it would be like to lie with him. Terrific.
“Gwen, come back to my cabin. Now,” Kealton ordered. H
e had somehow managed to corner her into her former hiding place, both arms raised so that she was surrounded by him. His position put his entire body on full display, including his armpit hair.
He was not androgynous, like most of the men she knew. She was used to smooth skin, gentle muscles generated by body sculpting. Kealton didn’t body sculpt. He sweated—completely, barbarically male. “I’m not one of the females you connect with. I didn’t come here for sex.” Gwen strove for her usual coolly dismissive tone when handling Kealton—which was like handling something that might explode before she got to a safe distance.
His response to her tone was a lowered brow and a tightened jaw—she also got under his skin.
Satisfaction jabbed her. She could move him. She could touch him as he touched her. “I need to know if you can do an extra rotation of pottery since you volunteered to teach it. Mr Jansen’s taking some time off, so we’re short activities for our passengers. Remember, participation?”
“Participation,” he scoffed. “That’s really why you’re here late in the evening rotation, all alone with me?”
An unexpected laugh bubbled up. “I did hear stories from the crew that you do your routines in the nude late at night,” she confessed.
He raised a brow, folding his arms, even more appealing with amusement lighting his expression.
Careful, she told herself. The longer they were alone, the harder it was to shove away awareness of the uneasy cocktail brewing between them. Even on a purely physical level, they did not mesh. He was sleek, hard-bodied. She was soft, frankly a little chubby because of her love of moonbeam pastries every morning with her coffee. She could body sculpt, but she was usually so busy with her job that she found the fussy treatments at the ship’s spa annoying.
In her suit she looked professional and, all right, perky, as he’d called her more than once, but she knew she projected the reassuring and bright presence that passengers could relate to on a romantic cruise through the stars. It didn’t matter that it was a façade. At least it hadn’t until she’d met Kealton. He took swipes at her, as if trying to get to the real woman under the calm mask. It was damned annoying because he could have other women instead of digging at her, and she wished he’d leave her alone.
Besides, she was nothing like the lean and dangerous-looking women he sometimes dragged to his cabin with all the finesse of a caveman. Gwen had taken note that these women didn’t leave his rooms for at least two days, and when they emerged, they walked around with a dazed expression on their face.
Just what was it like lying under this man for two days? What did he do to a woman? Gwen’s stomach muscles tightened, and her body felt slick, as if she were about to take Kealton’s thick erection
“You’re not my type,” she said, taking up his gauntlet.
“You mean like that boring stockbroker six rotations ago?” Kealton was staring at her through heavy-lidded eyes. “Did he stop talking about himself long enough to make you come? I’ve wondered.”
“Spying on me?” Gwen put her fists on her hips. “Nice.”
“No more than you do with me. You’re aware of everyone I’ve slept with since I came aboard this ship, aren’t you, kitten?” Kealton reached out and put gentle fingers on the side of Gwen’s neck where her pulse was thundering, making his point. “Because of what’s between us. Because we need to fuck each other.”
“You could learn something from the men I date. They’re gentlemen. They’re not crude.” Kealton’s touch seared her skin. She shoved aside his hand, aware that even the color of their skin contrasted—hers a warm cocoa while his was fair.
“You’re Aurellian, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her colony was made up of darker-skinned people.
“I’m from Old Terra,” he said.
“I know. I read your record,” she said. “Old Terra, very different from the rest of the galaxy. All that stuff about celebrating differences.”
He looked amused again. “I got a black eye when I explored differences in cultures for the first time back home,” he admitted. “But it’s not so bad. Some of the colonies are a little too…cloistered for my taste. Don’t you know opposites attract?”
She rolled her eyes at him, and he laughed, but then his voice deepened. “Come on. You and me? Just picture us in your canopy bed together, my paler body covering yours, your legs wrapped around me…”
“How did you know I have a canopied bed?” She was blushing, but she lifted her brows.
“I asked Jasmine, of course,” Kealton said, referring to Gwen’s best friend. “I’m a retired soldier, so I’m a little rough around the edges.” He ran a calloused palm down her bare arm, making her shiver. “I guess none of your gentlemen would tell you they look at you in your tidy suit and imagine making a mess of your hair while they sink balls deep into you.”
And that was her cue to leave. “Sorry I disturbed you.” She pushed him aside, but as she did, one of her bangles got caught in his long hair, and she made the mistake of looking up.
His gaze was hot on her face but with a trace of pain that made her belly knot.
“Gwen, just once take what you really want,” he whispered. His mouth brushed hers delicately, like one of the humming flyers on Midas IV as it sipped nectar.
Damn it. Of course she wanted more. She moaned as she dragged him closer, so that his body crushed hers, crumpling the outfit he’d ridiculed.
He kept up the teasing kisses, treating her like one of the porcelain tea bowls he made in the pottery studio. But she didn’t want him to treat her like something delicate.
Gwen tugged at his hair until he gave a little laugh before he took her mouth in a rough kiss, his whiskers burning her tender skin. Her nails dug into his bare shoulders. He freed her mouth to stare at her before he hefted her against the wall. She slid up, her hair falling around them in a curtain.
“Right now, Gwen. I need to put it in you, and you know you want it.”
Crude. He was so crude, but… His hand slid under her skirt and brushed against her satin underwear. She was hot and creamy, wet against him. She lifted her legs up against his hips so she could feel him deeper.
“I can make you come.” His fingers slid into her folds. She watched him as he touched her, heart pounding in her ears. God, she hadn’t had an orgasm except at her own hand in so long… He was right—she was aching for it.
She shut her eyes, losing herself in the feel of him touching her, invading her. He didn’t ask her permission. He just took as if her body belonged to him, as if it was his to play with.
It shouldn’t turn her on so much, not when she knew he was keeping secrets.
“Wait. We can’t… If you’ve spent the past few years tamely working on cruise ships, I’ll eat one of my elegant outfits.” She swallowed. “More like you’re a member of the special forces, one of the Alliance’s elite.”
He said nothing, and that said everything. So she had been right. He was just like her father.
“Why are you here?”
“If I’m who you think I am, do you think I can tell you that?” he asked.
Her breath stalled in her chest at his response. “I don’t want to get involved with someone…dangerous.” She liked her life safe. He was not safe.
He smacked a fist against the wall.
“Don’t do that. Don’t use what you suspect about me to shut out what’s important. Look at me. Look at us.”
He pulled his loincloth down then took his cock in his hand, moving it so that the tip of his penis brushed against her damp curls.
“No!” Instinctively, she jerked away from the hot, primal feel of him. Too fast. She would come in another moment. He would thrust up into her, and she would shatter for him. She wanted it, needed it, but who was she letting touch her? She scrabbled against the wall.
“God damn it!”
They collapsed in an inelegant tangle on the floor, his larger body underneath hers, as if he’d worked to cushion her at the last
moment.
Panting, she sat up, and his naked cock prodded between her legs, where she was slick, her panties damp against her body. She moaned at the thick feel of him against her, her body clenching with the need for satisfaction.
“Gwen.” He gripped her rounded hips, his attention focused on her. He felt… Oh! She couldn’t stop herself from grinding down on him.
“Oh fuck!” he groaned.
Somehow she fell off him, lying beside him in a ball, hurting. She’d been so close…
Finally she managed to use her arms to push herself to her feet, where she swayed. She blinked, feeling drugged. One of her shoes was missing. In the mirror across the room, she saw that her coronet hairstyle was a wild tangle around her face. Her dark eyes were huge and scared. She was so close to release that the movement of standing up was almost enough to make her come.
“What the hell are you doing?” Kealton growled. He looked grumpy.
Well, she was grumpy too!
“I told you, you’re not my type.” It sounded weak and stupid.
“That’s bullshit! We nearly fucked.”
You could hurt me, she thought. You could hurt me.
She found her shoe, the shape of the ordinary accessory feeling alien in her hand, as if she’d never seen one. She dragged her tongue over dry lips, lips that still felt crushed from Kealton’s mouth. She managed to replace the shoe on her fourth try.
She couldn’t help looking at Kealton sprawled naked and hard on a woven mat, his long hair in his blue eyes, his legs open, his cock curved toward his stomach from a thick thatch of lusty blond hair. His hands were fisted against the floor, as if he was forcing himself to keep them off her.
“This isn’t over,” he warned her.
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About the Author
Jan Irving has worked in all kinds of creative fields, from painting silk to making porcelain ceramics, to interior design, but writing was always her passion.