by Tina Donahua
Fearful of behaving inappropriately, of running her off and losing his only chance to be this close, Nikoli lifted his hand. After weeks of fantasizing about touching her, he cautioned himself to temper his reaction.
The warning did little good.
Longing he’d never experienced stole his breath as he clasped her exquisitely soft fingers, his thumb stroking hers.
Lids sliding down, Regina parted her lips on a quiet sigh. Color rose to her cheeks, the same as it had this morning in her bath when he’d watched her, hungering to touch and taste every inch of her flesh. To smell it. A pleasure unknown in his dimension.
On E2, sterile air replaced all fragrances, a matter deemed necessary to keep the populace disease-free. Here, the scent of food, drink and muggy rain bombarded Nikoli. Even so, it wasn’t enough to keep him from catching Regina’s fragrance. Light and faintly sweet, it reminded him of what her people called vanilla and peaches.
Blood rushed to his groin, pooling in his cock. Another word from her realm. A language Nikoli had learned over the years as he’d monitored the spontaneously occurring portals, never realizing he’d someday cross through one he had created into a dimension more electrifying than he could have ever imagined.
Time passed more swiftly here than it did on his plane. As people moved about, their bodies seemed to blur. The vibrant colors dazzled when compared to his realm’s somber hues, making Nikoli slightly dizzy, the same as touching her.
“Regina,” he repeated, enjoying the sound of her name. He glanced at her fiery red hair, gold earrings—the color of stars on his side—soft gray sweater and black pants.
Gently, she squeezed his hand, her expression soft with arousal. “And you are?”
There was no need to lie. Tonight would be their only time together. Tomorrow, Regina would be safe, and he would surely be dead. Even if he escaped harm from Sazaar, Andris and the others, death awaited him on his return to E2. Fear or sorrow should have overwhelmed Nikoli. Instead, gratitude for this small slice of time, this moment of unrestricted joy, quickened his answer. “Nikoli Zorr.”
Regina moved her lips as though testing his name. Her resultant smile said she liked it. “Nikoli.” Her iris’s green tint was darker now, lushly verdant in the room’s scant light. She studied his features. “It sounds Russian. Were you born there?”
Prepared for her questions, he continued to lie. “My parents emigrated from a small isolated village in Romania. They brought me over when I was twelve. I’m afraid our accent is quite unique.”
“It fits you,” she said. “Do you work here?” She glimpsed at his shoulders. “Are you on your way home?”
“Sir?”
Nikoli glanced over at the young woman who had waited on him. She regarded Regina’s hand in his, then flashed him a hungry smile.
Unmoved by her seduction, growing cautious, he said, “Yes?”
“You forgot your change.” She rested a series of bills and circular coins near his cup, then regarded him, her expression expectant.
Nikoli wasn’t certain how to respond. Of the currency he’d stolen, he hadn’t known how much to offer for the drink. Overwhelmed at seeing Regina, at being close enough to hear her speak, he’d watched her hand over a bill for her order but hadn’t noticed if she’d received anything back.
“Thank you,” he said.
Brows drawn together, the girl glanced at the bills.
Nikoli sensed she wanted them back. Why, he didn’t know. Taking a chance, he slid the one on top toward her to see what would happen.
“Thank you,” she said, pocketing it. Ponytail swinging, she hurried back to her station.
“Wow. You’re a good tipper,” Regina said, arching one brow.
Nikoli wasn’t certain what she meant. His only answer was the truth. “I wanted her to leave.” He smiled. “It was the only way I knew to get rid of her.”
Regina laughed.
The carefree, tinkling sound stroked Nikoli’s soul. With great care, he squeezed her fingers.
Regina’s expression grew distracted, her smile fading as she glanced at their hands, her fingers hugging his. Not caring if he acted recklessly, Nikoli held on to her for a few seconds more.
After he released her, Regina wrapped her fingers around her cup. She asked again, “Do you work in this building?”
“On the third floor,” he offered, lying easily, giving her the name of one of the companies he’d passed on the way down here.
Nodding, Regina captured a bit of the drink’s whipped cream on her fingertip, then brought it to her mouth, licking it off.
The back of his neck tingled.
“Do you own the company?” she asked.
His attention remained on her mouth, the promise of its wet heat beyond her plump bottom lip. He imagined his tongue stroking her lips, parting them, seeking entrance. Once claimed, he pictured Regina offering even more of herself. On her knees, she’d take his cock into her velvety palms, lifting it to her mouth, drawing it inside, providing shelter, elation, completion. Sounding distracted, he said, “Yes.”
“What business are you in, Nikoli?”
The shameless images in his mind evaporated with her question. Stalling for an answer, his knowledge of this realm, he peeled off the white circular cover on the top of his cup and placed it to the side. A word popped in his mind, one he’d seen quite a few times on this plane. “Consulting.”
“On what?”
His pulse pounded. He thought back to things he’d seen here. “Computer software designs.”
Regina’s quick nod told Nikoli he hadn’t said anything strange.
She smiled. “My system could certainly use some expert help. Carly’s always complaining about how we need to move my accounting and other files into the twenty-first century. Sad to say, I’ve let her whine without really doing anything to fix the problem. I figured she could just live with it since she’s my only employee, kind of a combination bookkeeper-receptionist-secretary. But hey, if you know software, maybe you can give me a couple of tips on what I need to do.”
Sweat trickled down Nikoli’s back. He had no idea what to suggest. The systems on this side were centuries behind the advancements on his. “Of course, but I generally work with large firms with hundreds of employees.” To take the focus off himself, he asked, “What business are you in, Regina?”
“I’m a psychologist.” She ran her fingertip over the food she’d been eating. Small, delicate flakes fell from it onto the countertop. “I deal with anxiety disorders.”
He offered a nod of encouragement. “I admire anyone who helps others with their problems. Your work must be very rewarding.”
Appreciation for his comment radiated from her. “I certainly try to help all that I can. Unfortunately, I’m not always successful.”
He thought of Sazaar and was careful to keep himself from sounding worried. “It’s understandable that some can’t be helped.”
Regina offered a rueful smile. “I’ll have to remember that when I’m feeling badly about a failure. Now that I know you work here, perhaps I can ask you for a pep talk from time to time.”
He spoke without thinking. “A pep talk?”
“A word of support,” she amended.
“Of course.” With his full attention on her, he spoke from the heart, offering a future they didn’t have. “Always.”
A soft heat emanated from her, the kind a woman on this side showed when she wanted a man. “Are you on your way home, Nikoli?”
Surprised at her question, not knowing why she asked, he shook his head.
She glanced at his coat, confusion sparking in her expression as though she’d expected him to leave.
“There’s a matter I have to attend to,” he said, being deliberately vague, “but I still have work to do and planned to return shortly.”
Naked pleasure shone on her face.
It pleased him as nothing else ever had. “Are you going home?” he asked.
“I have one
last patient in a few minutes.” She nibbled on the edge of her food, then returned it to the white square it had rested on—what her people called a napkin. Brushing crumbs from the side of her mouth, she said, “The appointment will be over in an hour. If you don’t have to work past seven fifteen or so, would you care to have dinner with me?” She lowered her hand to the table, waiting for his answer.
His mouth had already gone dry. Her words rang in his mind.
I have one last patient.
Sazaar. For weeks, he’d watched his mate arrive at Regina’s office, then struggle to disclose her abominable secrets. Thus far, Sazaar hadn’t revealed anything about Andris and the others. Tonight, she would. Nikoli sensed it. Feared it.
Once Regina learned what no human was meant to know, Sazaar would destroy her. She’d have no other choice.
They’re in it to win it—or die trying.
Ricochet
© 2011 Sandra Sookoo
Willa Rayes, only daughter of a legendary Lingorian fighter pilot, can fly any ship in the galaxy. Better than her brothers, in fact. But does that get her any respect? Not as long as she has breasts. Winning the Nebulon Trike will not only force her family to notice her, it’ll be her declaration of independence from men in general.
Then she meets her race partner, Stratton Sinnet. Arrogant and chauvinistic, he ignites her libido like no man ever before. And threatens to send her well-planned strategy straight to hell.
A bounty hunter by trade, Sin enters the Trike for one reason: money. Somewhere among the racers his quarry is hiding, but he’s not worried. He always gets his man, and winning the race will be a nice bonus. It sure would be a hell of a lot easier, though, if he wasn’t saddled with a know-it-all navigator who’s getting on his last nerve—and under his skin.
As the checkpoints go by and the danger escalates, the fight for control, the lead—and satisfaction—approaches supernova heat. Burning away their resistance, and the tough shells that protect their one vulnerability…their hearts.
Warning: This story contains a hot, bald bounty hunter whose sex appeal rivals his cockiness; a smart-mouthed pilot who refuses to let a mere male beat her in anything; and love scenes that’ll make you'll think a star exploded. Dramamine recommended to counteract the effects of fancy flying.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Ricochet:
Willa cringed when their craft, the Anomaly, shuddered before resuming its smooth flow through the star-dotted blackness. The idiot was going to ruin their chances of making good time if he insisted on such a careless attitude. “Is there a reason you have your feet propped on the control panel?” She stared pointedly at his dusty boots. They rested perilously close to the button that would dump reactor-core waste all over the course. “Obviously, you have no respect for your ship.”
“As long as it gets me to where I need to go, I don’t care. And as for your question, there’s no need to be alert at this point.”
“Ah, such a wonderful work ethic.” She gritted her teeth. Of all the men to be stuck with, the powers-that-be gave her him. “When would you like to start the GCCs? I haven’t programmed them in yet, since I don’t know—”
“Willa, just stop, all right?” Stratton squirmed into an upright position, slammed his feet onto the floor and swiveled his chair around to face her. “We don’t need course corrections at the moment. We’ve been in space for an hour. Relax.” His glare sent a tremor down her spine. “If you feel the need to make asinine conversation to fill the silence, fine, but don’t expect an answer from me.”
She attempted to avert her gaze from his spread legs and crotch, but her willpower had dissolved. In the mandatory slick gear, there was no doubt that Stratton Sinnet had the necessary equipment to please the ladies. The black suit hugged his body so tightly, she clearly saw the outline of his abdominal muscles, as well as the bulge between his legs. Insistent heat rushed to her pussy, made doubly uncomfortable by the uniform.
Needing a distraction, she cleared her throat and wrenched her gaze to his. “Are you always an ass?”
“A good portion of the time. That’s what makes me well known.”
“No, that’s what makes you an ass.”
“It’s working for me.” A knowing smirk crossed his face. “See something you like?” He rested a hand on his upper thigh with his fingers dangling in such a way she couldn’t help but glance at his package again.
“No, actually.” Arrogant bastard. There was no way she’d let on how yummy she thought he looked. “You’re not as impressive as you think. I’ve seen better.”
His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned. “Do you always have to be so aloof?”
“I’m not aloof. I just feel the need to come down to your level.”
“Ah.”
Annoyed when he said nothing else, she sighed. “I’m going to do those course corrections whether you want me to right now or not.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself, Miss I-Always-Need-To-Be-In-Control. I’ll bet you’re rigid like that all the time. Unbending control, right?”
Hot anger jumped into her cheeks. “Without control, there is chaos. Besides, I’m a Lingorian and proud of it. We’re a race who cherishes pride, schedules and steely control over every aspect of life.”
“And why do I care?”
“I’m trying to tell you why I am the way I am.”
“Nope.” He shook his head, boredom clear in his expression. “You’re that way from something else. National pride has nothing to do with it. Hell, back in the day, I was from Earth, but that’s not why I love money, fast women and faster ships.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t been killed by someone before now. Asshole.” She glanced quickly away and pretended an interest in the display on her datapad. There was no other choice than to be in control; otherwise, she’d be forced to reckon with the voices in her head telling her she wasn’t good enough, would never be good enough. No way was she going to let Stratton know that. “How long are you planning to cruise at this pace? We’re supposed to reach the moon Aga no later than 1300 hours tomorrow. You keep this crawl, and we’ll finish in the back of the pack. That scenario is not on my agenda.”
“Is that a problem, kita?”
The man never stopped! Her chest burned with irritation. “Yes, since the point of any race is to finish first.” Unable to help it, she turned and regarded him again. Despite his lack of manners or decency, the man intrigued her. He held a lifetime of secrets in those deep brown eyes. The trick was to get him to share. “Why do you keep calling me kita? What does it mean?”
“On the last planet I lived on, it’s used as a derogatory term meaning spoiled or privileged.” Stratton shrugged, and the gesture caused the slick suit to pull tightly across his impressive shoulders. Shiny foiled patches and emblems of sponsors flashed in the weak interior illumination. “I figured it fits, since you’re so bent on getting your own way.”
“You have no idea what drives me or makes me who I am.” She gripped the datapad so hard, the lightweight plastic dug into her skin.
“Is that so?” His gaze flickered over her face, his expression clearly bored. “You have to be in control every minute, you probably wear your hair back like that until it gives you a headache—every day, correct? You get annoyed when people don’t do what you say that exact moment. Seems to me you’re so tense, a titanium rod would be jealous of your backbone.”
Willa hooked a finger into the neckline of her suit and pulled at the confining fabric. Angry heat rolled over her body, becoming trapped within the outfit. Damned uniform. What good would it do to keep a crew member alive in the event of a crash if the fabric meant she’d burn to death internally? “What about you? Don’t you demand as much control? Just look at the stunt you used getting into the cockpit.”
“That wasn’t control. It was seizing an opportunity.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. “We’re not talking about me.”
“Start sharing, Stratton. It’ll be a long trip o
therwise.” She secured the datapad into a slot on the wall, then punched a button that brought up a star map on the windscreen. “At our present rate of speed, it’ll be three days before we make it to the moon.”
Idiot. At the checkpoint and after the mandatory rest period, there was no way he’d be back in the pilot’s seat. They had to get through the checkpoints as quickly as possible. Didn’t he understand the concept of the rally?
Stratton chuckled. The deep, rich sound reverberated through the close confines and did strange things to her insides. “In your world, you might rule the roost, but remember, I’m the pilot. What I say goes.”
Right, as if he even had an idea of what her home life was like. Willa bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop the retort. “My life is exactly the reason I’m here.”
“Fair enough, but resist the urge to tell me. I’m not in the market for a BFF.” He swiveled the chair until he faced the instrument panel. “If we burn through the bulk of our fuel now, we won’t have enough to sprint for that checkpoint tomorrow. I’m not going to come up short in order to stay on your schedule.”
She stared at the star chart, determined not to look at his smug face again. “Listen, the only reason I’m on this bird with you is to win. There’s no other option. If you can’t deliver the goods, I’ll be forced to evict you from your position and get someone else.”
More than anything, she wanted the accolades that went along with crossing that checkpoint first and entering their energy signature for the official record. He could keep the damned prize money. Funds would be nice, but that wasn’t her objective. All she wanted was for her father and brothers to see her at the top of each race leg—and for them to say she was worthy despite her sex.
“I’d like to see you try. It’s not like spare racers are trolling the area. Besides, I’ll easily overpower you, have you on your back so fast you won’t know what happened. I rather enjoy a woman on her backside, especially one as golvertic as you.”
“What does that mean?” The man was a pig. Too bad she couldn’t continue the race without him.