The lycats might have been fed, but she wanted to give them a special treat.
Opening up one of the cupboards, she pulled out the dried fish they adored, and gave each a huge fillet. Immediately they darted out into the gardens to eat.
Smiling, Des poured herself a fizzy drink, downed it, looked longingly at the sofa and sighed. The other thing she'd longed for was a proper shower. The washes at the medical clinic just hadn't been good enough.
Moving stiffly into the bathroom, she took off the tunic and underwear with some difficulty, and stepped into the shower. The first touch of the warm water made her moan aloud in appreciation. It poured over her, the heat seeping into her aching muscles. She washed quickly, inhaling the scent of the flowery soap, finding it much more pleasing than the antiseptic soap she'd used at the clinic. Washing her hair proved a problem, for her sore shoulder didn't like being stretched, so she washed it one-handedly.
Finally getting out, she toweled herself dry and slipped into a clean nightgown. Now she felt better. Hair brush in hand, she went back out into the living area, poured another fizzy drink and moved across to the sofa. Touching a switch on the wall as she went, she listened as the soft music slipped through the speakers in the living area. Placing the glass on the small table beside the sofa, she eased herself down, gave a groan of pain and slumped back against the cushions. Propping her feet stiffly up on an ottoman, she breathed deeply of the clean night air, and let the peace of her home seep into her.
It might not have been the wisest move to leave the clinic, in Moresby's point of view, but having the peace and tranquility of her own place was something Des needed.
Sipping at her drink, she watched Chels and Fuzz play in the garden. It wasn't long before they came back in, jumping up onto the sofa to curl up beside her. Their purring was soothing, and she gently stroked them. Leaning her head back against the backrest, she closed her eyes and dozed.
When she awoke, it was to find that the night had turned to early morning, and Simon was kneeling down in front of her, concern and relief both evident in his face.
Blinking sleepily, she looked at him. No alarm bells rang, no tension filtered through her. There wasn't even any anger or annoyance to find him in her home. Simon was just there.
Her gaze wandered over him, hazily taking in the roguish, dangerous good-looks, the squareness of his jaw and straightness of his nose. The pale blue-green of his eyes were startling, even when not surrounded by the thick, black lashes, which should have made him appear almost girlish, but instead simply enhanced the uniqueness of his eye color. Des's gaze wandered lower, over his lips that, even though full, were undoubtedly masculine. There was nothing girlish in his face, just raw, male handsomeness.
"Des?’ he queried softly.
His voice was a deep rumble that caressed her skin, and still caught up in the pleasant drowsiness of not being quite awake, she smiled dreamily.
One big hand came out and rested lightly on her thigh, just below the self-adhesive patch. “Lass?"
"Mmm?” Rousing a little, she sleepily rubbed her eyes.
A touch of amusement had those sinful lips curving upward. “Are you awake properly?"
"Mmm.” The warmth of sleep was still beckoning, and she closed her eyes again, while inhaling deeply of his scent. Male, clean, heat. Strength. “You smell so good."
There was silence for a second before a low chuckle rumbled out. “Now I know you're still half asleep."
"Mmm.” Opening her eyes briefly, feeling so very tired but relaxed, she took another peep at her dream man. “You look yummy, too.” That was all she could manage to say before she closed her eyes and drifted back into the warmth of sleep.
Dimly she felt a hand brush her hair, an arm beneath her legs, and something soft under her cheek.
The second time she awoke, the sun was shining down, the flowers were releasing their scents, and she could see Chels and Fuzz playing in the garden. A cool breeze blew in through the open glass wall.
Only the scene was wrong. She was seeing it from sideways. Carefully lifting her head, she balanced upright stiffly on one elbow. The light cotton sheet covering her slid back to her waist with the movement.
Frowning, Des realized that she was lying on her sofa. She didn't remember getting the sheet, nor the cushion beneath her cheek. In fact, she didn't remember lying down at all.
Vaguely she remembered someone talking to her. Someone...
Simon!
Instantly alert, she snapped upright, only to give a small, involuntary yelp of pain the sudden movement caused her. Every laser burn made itself known immediately.
"Stay right there,” a deep voice admonished from somewhere behind her. “I'll get you the pain killer."
He was here. Simon was in her home, and undoubtedly he'd been the one to lay her down on the sofa and make her comfortable.
Grimacing, Des pushed the sheet aside and slid carefully to the edge of the sofa, perching there gingerly as she waited for the fierce aches to dull down to a more bearable throbbing. Behind her she could the clinking of glasses.
Obviously Simon knew his way around her kitchen. Somehow she thought she should feel more than a mild prick of annoyance, but was she was sore and really didn't care right at that moment.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Simon moving around the kitchen, opening cupboards and the cooler, getting the things he wanted with a quiet efficiency that she was beginning to recognize as a part of him. The sleeveless, open vest he wore only enhanced the bunch of powerful muscles in his arms and chest as he moved. Even his stomach muscles seemed to ripple when he bent and straightened.
Easily carrying a small glass and two larger ones in his big hands, he padded silently in bare feet over the cool tiles. Carefully she eased back against the sofa, trying to relax the tension in her sore muscles.
Coming around the sofa, he squatted directly down in front of her and handed her the smaller glass. “Drink this, ‘twill help with the pain."
"Who made you the boss?” Taking the glass, she drained the contents and grimaced.
"I did.” Taking the small glass, he gave her the larger one. “This will take the taste away."
The berry juice was cool, sweet, and she moaned inwardly as it slid over her tongue and down her throat. Blissfully she drained half the contents of the glass before opening her eyes to find Simon regarding her intently. The thick, fair hair was confined at his nape with a leather tie, but a long lock trailed over his broad shoulders.
"What?” Des lowered the glass, then scowled as a sudden thought occurred to her. “If you're looking for payment for—"
Her words were cut off by the simple process of Simon reaching out and placing one finger on her lips. “Don't.” His fingertip was calloused, yet his touch gentle. And firm. As firm as his voice when he added while removing his finger, “Friends help each other, ‘tis all. Now stop looking for ulterior motives and accept it graciously."
"No one ever said I was gracious."
"And yet, I still find you cute.” Grinning, Simon stood up.
While Des was still staring at him in surprise, he nudged the ottoman in front of her, gently raised her feet and put them on the ottoman, then proceeded to calmly sit down beside her. His weight on the sofa nearly tipped her over onto him, but she managed to regain her balance. Her surprise increased when he propped his bare feet, crossed at the ankles, beside hers on the ottoman. His feet were clean and strong, just like the man they supported. Sipping from the glass, perfectly relaxed, Simon idly watched the two hybrid lycats playing in the garden.
Turning her head, she looked at him. Their shoulders weren't quite touching, their hips a few centimeters apart, the warmth of his body tangible. Her head was on level with his broad shoulders, something she wasn't accustomed to, more used to the being one doing the towering.
Unbidden, her gaze wandered lower. The hard muscles of his stomach were clearly defined, enough to make many a woman's mouth water. She'd fel
t the hardness of those muscles, just as she'd felt ... Her gaze fell lower to the apex of his thighs. The coarse material pants were loose, but she knew the power that lay between his muscular thighs. Her mouth went dry and she took a sip of juice.
"Keep looking at me like that, lass, and I'll need a cold shower,” Simon said conversationally.
Startled out of her silent musings, she looked up, a flush creeping into her cheeks when she met his knowing gaze. His voice might be calm, but there was a mixture of amusement and remembered heat in his pale eyes.
Never one to normally be embarrassed, Des scowled. “About that—"
"'Twas magical.” His gaze turned sober. “I thank you for the gift."
Now that completely threw her. “Pardon?"
"No one has ever given me such a gift."
"Gift?” she repeated stupidly.
His smile was small. “Making love to me with your mouth."
She'd never heard it called that before. Giving head, oral, and coarser words were the normal ways of describing what she'd done, but the words Simon used were ... softer. More intimate. The sort of words lovers might use.
For the first time in her life, she was unsure how to handle a man. If he'd been coarser, she'd have had an even coarser answer for him. She'd have shown him the door. But now—now she wasn't sure what to say.
Which was both irritating and embarrassing, and made her scowl fiercer.
Simon startled her again when he reached out and smoothed his thumb across her brow. “Relax, lass, I'm not going to bite."
She moved her head back. “I'm not afraid of you, trader."
"I don't expect you to be.” Unperturbed, he took another sip from his glass.
"Exactly why are you here? If it's for a repeat performance of the other morning—"
"Tsk. Lass, you have to stop jumping to conclusions before you hurt yourself, and I have to kiss you better.” His eyes twinkled. “I'd love a repeat performance, but you're in no condition, and besides..."
Trailing off his sentence only piqued her curiosity. “Besides what?"
"Besides,” his voice dropped lower, huskier, full of promise, “I have promised myself to return the gift."
"Return the gift?” She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. Surely he wasn't implying ... ?
Leaning down towards her, his gaze locked on her own almost hypnotically. “'Twill be my turn to make love to you with my mouth.” His words feathered across her lips.
The warmth of Simon's breath was almost erotic, so innocent, yet with the promise of heat. She'd been kissed by him before, in his ship, and that one kiss had had the power to make her forget where she was ... until he'd spoken and broken the spell.
Spell? Frowning, she looked up at him. Where am I getting these crazy notions?
"Tsk.” Reproving the word was, but Simon's expression was anything but admonishing. The dangerous planes of his face seemed to have softened, his eyes warming with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. Leaning down more towards her, he said quietly, “I can see your mind working, lass, trying to analyze this all out."
If she leaned back any further, she was going to fall back on the sofa. The man was so close, leaning almost over her now. Bracing her hand on the sofa behind her, Des refused to back any further. A warning twinge in her shoulder made her breath catch.
Immediately Simon's big hand was behind her back.
"Damn it, if you'd move back—” she began heatedly.
"Relax, lass. I'm just going to pull you upright again, rather than have you causing stress to your muscles."
Even as he said it, there was a wicked glint in his eyes that belied the careful way he easily lifted her back towards him. The fact that he himself didn't move any further back made the alarm bells inside Des go off.
"Simon—"
Now she was against his chest, and all with the ridiculous ease of his one hand at the back of her.
Des's heart beat faster as his eyes dropped to her lips. The heat from his hand seemed to sear through her tunic at the back, while the heat from his body against her front seeped into her deliciously.
Anticipation slipping through her, Des could only watch as Simon's head lowered even more, the long lock of his fair hair falling forward to tickle her neck. The heavy sweep of his eyelashes rose, and the paleness of his startling blue-green irises was emphasized by the blackness of his pupils.
"Des.” He was so close now that the word was a warm puff against her lips. “I was so scared.” And then he kissed her. Gently. Carefully. A light touch of lips, a caress of sensitive skin.
Before she could even make any response, he lifted his head to gaze down at her, his expression tender.
Tenderness from a man was something she'd only had from her father a few times, for he was uncomfortable with tenderness. Her lover of long ago had never really been tender. This big Daamen trader was treating her as though she was made of fine china, his hand so supportive at her back, his hold so careful, and his kiss so gentle, and his expression so ... tender.
She should have up and socked him one, but all she could think about was how he treated her as though she were someone fragile who needed taking care of. His gaze was tender, his expression caring. It made her feel warm inside.
And he was rattling her good senses, something no man had ever done before, regardless of his actions. It was unnerving.
Frowning, she placed her hand on his chest—suns! His skin was like hot satin overlaying hard muscle!—and pushed. “Back off."
"Why?"
"What?” She stared at him.
"Does my kiss offend you?"
"Bloody stupid question."
That disarming, roguish grin flashed across his full, masculine lips, and his eyes twinkled. “I'll take that as a nay."
"Take it anyway you damned well please."
Simon eased her back against the sofa and turned to face the garden again, lifting his glass to take a sip at the berry juice. Amusement was evident in his voice when he stated, “You're a prickly little thing."
Little thing? Des stared at him.
He slanted a look at her out of the corner of his eye. “I hear you've been keeping tabs on what ‘tis happening at the Enforcer Building."
The quick change of topic caught her off balance, but not for long. “You're well informed."
"I happened to overhear the peacekeepers talking."
"How? They wouldn't say anything in public."
He laughed outright. “You're so suspicious, lass! I promise ‘twas legally heard."
Des's eyes narrowed and she started to move to the edge of the sofa. “How did you hear anything?"
One muscular arm stretched out in front of her, and she had the choice of either pressing her breasts up against it, or subsiding. She chose to grab his forearm, and felt the flex of hard muscle under her palm.
"Sit back and relax, lass,” Simon said softly, turning his head to look straight at her. “Your men couldn't figure out ‘twas wrong with your communications system, so my engineer, Aamun, had a look at it. I happened to be there with him when a couple of your men came in talking. ‘Tis how I overheard."
She met his gaze. “Your engineer fixed our communications system?"
"Aye."
Crap. It seemed as though she was having to thank the Daamens for more things every moment. Slowly she eased back against the sofa and sighed. That reminded her of several things she had yet to thank Simon.
As soon as she eased back, Simon withdrew his arm and relaxed beside her once again, his gaze moving once more to watch Chels and Fuzz as they played amongst the small trees.
Taking a deep breath, Des rolled the glass between her palms. “I owe you thanks for saving the lives of my men and me. Without you—"
"'Tis no thanks needed, lass.” Draining the glass of the last of the berry juice, Simon placed it down beside the sofa. But he didn't get up, just remained relaxed on the sofa beside her.
"And for fixing the communicatio
ns system—"
"My pleasure. Now forget it."
Des pursed her lips. “I don't like being beholden to anyone."
"You're not beholden to me.” There wasn't a hint of annoyance in Simon's deep tones, just a calm matter-of-factness. “Friends help friends.” He glanced sideways at her as she took a sip of her drink. “And lovers help lovers."
Des choked on her drink. Coughing, she leaned forward and blindly reached out for a place to put her glass, only to have it plucked from her hand. Low laughter rumbled through the room, even as a big hand rubbed her back soothingly.
Finally getting her breath back, she straightened from her bent position from where she'd been resting her elbows on her knees, ignoring the twinge of pain in her shoulder. No doubt if she hadn't had the liquid analgesia, it would have hurt more.
Simon was regarding her with a mixture of amusement and remorse. “Apologies, lass. I shouldn't have teased you when you're in pain."
"You'll be in pain if you keep up that nonsense!"
"Who says ‘tis nonsense?"
Her heart fluttered but she kept her voice even. “We are not lovers."
His smile was slow and wholly male. “Not yet."
"Not ever."
"Ah, but then I haven't really got started, have I?” His eyes gleamed, a mixture of heat and devilment. “You, however, got off to an amazing start."
Her cheeks flamed. “That was a mistake."
"For which I thank God.” He winked.
"And won't happen again."
His pale eyes glowed with an inner fire. “I won't say the same for me."
Suns! Des's mouth went dry and her heart skipped a beat. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and her heart started to beat harder. “I think it's time for you to leave."
The teasing light went from his eyes, and he grew serious. “You're embarrassed."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Your cheeks are red, and you want me to leave."
"You're irritating me.” She lifted her chin and glared at him. And flustering me and I won't ever admit to that!
He made no move to shift from the sofa. Instead, he looked at her thoughtfully before saying quietly, “'Tis not my intention to make you uncomfortable, lass. A little teasing, aye, but not to upset you."
Heart of a Peacekeeper Page 18