The Tracker's Dilemma: (A Mandrake Company Science Fiction Romance)

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  “I’d like a massage,” she admitted quietly. “Though it does seem like it’s my turn to give you one. Also, you’re the injured patient.” She waved to the repair device humming happily on his ribs. “I shouldn’t impose on you.”

  “It’s no imposition, trust me.” His mind almost short-circuited at the idea of her rubbing him, but that would truly leave him in a painful state. “You can massage me next time, if you wish.”

  She smiled shyly, her gaze still toward his chest, and he wondered if she might be the faintest bit intrigued by the idea? He resisted the urge to flex his muscles for her—barely.

  Though he liked her admiring his chest—or at least gazing in that direction while nibbling at her lip—he gripped her shoulders lightly and turned her around. She went willingly, and the hope that had been building throughout the conversation kept rising.

  He shifted his weight, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the bed. After a second of debate, he adjusted them so one was on either side of her and pulled her back between them. He would be careful not to shove his cock up against her. This was about her. Finding out what aroused her, what appealed to her.

  He lifted both hands to stroke her hair and pull it behind her head, fingers curling past her ears and rubbing her scalp lightly. His ribs protested at the lifting movement, but he did it, anyway. He took his time arranging her locks, knowing that he always enjoyed it when a woman played with his hair, grazing his scalp with her fingernails. Her chin drooped, and she leaned back against the table. Finding that promising, he shifted to rubbing her shoulders, as he’d done before. He teased out knots, alternately stroking and rubbing. She smelled good, as always, the scent of that orange sanitizer being particularly strong. She must have washed up before starting first aid on people. He leaned closer, breathing in the scent of her hair, of her warm skin. She relaxed… and he got further aroused. That wasn’t quite how this was supposed to go.

  “I did like it,” she said softly.

  Several moments had passed since they last spoke, so he puzzled over what she meant for a second before asking, “What?”

  “When you slurped my ear.”

  He wanted to object to such an unsexy word as slurp, but the alert zing that went through his body distracted him. Was that an invitation to do it again? “So—” he paused to clear his throat, which had grown oddly hoarse. “So, non-mouth-on-mouth kissing is acceptable?”

  “It aroused me.”

  He wasn’t sure that was a positive answer—she sounded like a scientist reporting on the results of an experiment rather than a woman begging for further attention from his lips. He reminded himself that she was a scientist. For all he knew, she might be analyzing every stroke from his hands and the degree to which it stimulated her. As long as he did stimulate her, that was fine with him.

  He scooted closer, continuing to massage her shoulders as he leaned in to nuzzle the side of her neck. He inhaled her scent, not licking her, not yet. He trailed his lips along her warm skin and grew excited when she leaned her head back, exposing more of her neck to him. He couldn’t resist further. He nipped lightly at that skin as he lowered one arm to wrap around her waist, to draw her closer to him, to claim her. Mine, he wanted to growl. But he didn’t want to alarm her. Or get too excited. They didn’t have much time, and it would only be harder to get back to work, the further he let his fantasies go, the more of her he touched and tasted.

  A soft contented sound, nearly a moan, escaped her lips, and that charged him more than all of his explorations of her body. She could enjoy sex. He was sure of it.

  As he kissed his way to her collarbone, he spotted her nipples, pert and hard as they poked against her shirt. Another zing of desire coursed through him, his cock painfully hard now. He told himself to stop, but his hands kept roaming. He wanted to brush his thumb across one of those nipples, to cup her breast. He was still managing a semblance of a massage with his left hand, but his right nudged her shirt from her belt, delighting in brushing along bare skin. Would she let him run it up her sleek stomach to her breast?

  “Heath?” Lauren whispered.

  He paused, his hand halfway to its destination, his fingers caressing her skin as he nuzzled her neck, thinking of sucking on that earlobe again. “Hm?” he murmured, afraid she would ask him to stop.

  “You’re aroused,” she stated.

  He realized he had failed in his vow not to pull her close, and his hard cock was nudging her ass. He swallowed, wanting to do a lot more than nudge her. “Yeah,” he said—there was little point in denying it. “I have been since you took my shirt off.”

  “I haven’t done anything.” She lifted one hand to the arm he had wrapped around her waist, gripping him lightly. Would she push him away? Before he’d managed to stroke her breast? That seemed terribly unfair.

  “You’re here with me, close to me,” he whispered. “My sexy scientist.”

  She snorted. “I’m hardly that.”

  Instead of pushing his hand away, she guided it further up under her shirt. Excitement thrummed through him. She was giving him permission, even asking for him to touch her.

  He stroked the bottom of her breast through her bra, wondering if she’d mind if he finagled her out of it. He would very much like for there to be less clothing between them. More, he wanted to see as well as feel her full curves, her soft skin. She made another contented sound as he stroked her, brushing his thumb across one of those alert nipples.

  “We don’t have time for intercourse,” she said.

  Did she sound disappointed by that, or was it only his imagination?

  “I know.” He could feel the slight tilt of the shuttle as they angled toward some landing spot. “We could… make time later.” He returned to kneading her shoulder muscles and stroking the underside of her breast, hoping to convince her that making time would be a very good idea.

  She laid her head back on his shoulder, and he returned to kissing her neck. He wouldn’t have minded if she’d turned her head toward him for a real kiss, but this access was already far more than he’d expected. She wriggled a little in his arms, arching slightly into his hand as he shifted from one breast to the other. It excited him far more than it should have—it wasn’t as if women hadn’t enjoyed his touch before. Maybe it was that she had been so reticent, so disinterested, and now she was appreciating his touch, was aroused by his touch. If he unbuckled her belt and slipped his hand between her legs, he was certain he would find her wet. Maybe she would even shudder with desire if he touched her there. She hadn’t responded to his comment about making time. Was she considering it?

  She gripped his hand again, moving his fingers away from her breast. Disappointment ran through him—he didn’t want to stop touching her. He wanted to tug off all of her clothing and have full access.

  Thinking she meant to push his hand away because they were landing, he started to withdraw, but instead she pushed his hand lower, down to her waistband. Did she want...?

  “Heath,” she whispered, grinding back against his erection.

  Whether intentional or inadvertent, he didn’t know, but it made him gasp. It was all he could do not to grab her hips, yank down her trousers, shove her against the bed, and dive into her. He took a deep breath, struggling to sublimate those fantasies, certain she wasn’t asking for that.

  But she was asking for something.

  He slid his finger over the fastener of her belt, and it fell open, her trousers hanging limply from her hips. He kept waiting for her to object, to tell him that he had misinterpreted her, but he kept kissing her neck, sucking and nibbling at her ear, wanting her to want him to touch her.

  She wriggled against him, as if she wanted to feel his hard cock better. It was driving him crazy, making lurid thoughts flash through his mind, but then she distracted him by pushing his hand down. He could scarcely believe it as he slipped his fingers past the waistband of her underwear, the garment lacy and white with a pink bow that made him grin. Or maybe thi
s whole experience was making him grin. His sexy scientist, the one everyone called frigid and cold, was writhing against him, wanting him to get her off.

  He brushed his fingers over her mound, through her curls, and as he’d expected, found her warm and wet. She gasped as he slid past her seam and into her inviting heat. When he brushed her clitoris, she bucked against him, biting down on her lip. Trying to hold in further gasps? There were noises in the shuttle beyond the curtain, as Jamie and Ankari spoke, and the men speculated on what they would find in some canyon, but nobody was speaking so loudly that they wouldn’t hear someone cry out from the lab.

  Even though he didn’t want their play to be discovered, that didn’t keep him from stroking her, teasing her. It also didn’t keep him from pressing his cock against her back, wanting so much to sink himself into her. But no, this was about her. He kept his focus on that nub of nerves down there, appreciating the way she was thrusting herself into his hand, certain she would want this again. Next time, she might let him drive into her, to thrust deep, hard. He felt himself rocking into her, but he couldn’t stop. He wanted so much to feel the friction of her around him. He sucked at her earlobe as he squeezed her clitoris lightly between his fingers.

  She stiffened, her breasts thrust toward the ceiling, her head flung back further on his shoulder, and he could feel her molten core throbbing into his hand. All of the tension melted from her body. Her legs seemed to give out as she went limp against him, only his arm keeping her upright.

  He wished his own body wasn’t wired like a grenade about to explode. As she breathed heavily in his arms, relaxing into him, he struggled to get control of himself, not to keep rocking into her, not to beg her to let him take her. He could be done quickly. There was time. He—

  A soft bump went through the shuttle as it landed.

  Lauren sighed and stepped away from him. Tick almost couldn’t keep himself from grabbing her and pulling her back. He gripped the edge of the bed, tension tightening every muscle in his body. He couldn’t relax. He needed a release, one way or another.

  He pushed himself to his feet, the shirt falling onto the deck, nothing hiding the way his cock thrust against his trousers now. “I need to use the lav,” he blurted as she fastened her trousers.

  He bumped against the corner of the bed, his ribs protesting in pain. Funny how they hadn’t protested when he’d been pulling Lauren against him. Maybe they had, and he hadn’t noticed.

  “Heath.” Lauren stopped him with a hand on his abdomen.

  His cock twitched, wanting to thrust toward her. “I just need a minute,” he said.

  More like twenty seconds.

  “Stay here.” She reached for a rack at the end of the counter and handed him a towel.

  He stared at it, not quite fathoming what she meant. Surely, she didn’t want him to stand there and jerk off in front of her.

  “Later we can try it together,” she said.

  “And now?” he croaked, reaching for his belt, needing to slake the beast.

  She stepped closer, one hand sliding along his abdomen, the other going around his back, surprising him by reaching down and cupping his butt. He almost came right there.

  “I want to see you,” she whispered, her lips quirking, as if this realization puzzled her.

  He didn’t ask further. Fumbling, he set the towel on the bed and unfastened his belt. He shoved his trousers down and grabbed his quivering cock. Though she’d already said she wanted to see it—him—he looked at her before starting, half expecting her to be disgusted, as she was with kissing, and withdraw her permission.

  “Go ahead,” she whispered, sliding her fingers up his side. “I’ll just check on the repair device.” She gave his butt a little squeeze, an impish smile curving her lips.

  It—and the squeeze—aroused him beyond all measure. No longer hesitating, he slid his hand up and down his cock, drinking in that smile and her closeness as he pumped. She looked down at him a few times, no hint of alarm or disgust on her face, as she kept trailing her fingers along his chest, careful to avoid the injured ribs. Maybe it was his imagination, but she seemed to like looking at him, her eyes and fingers following the curve of his muscles, the swell of his pectorals.

  Aware of the men putting on their gear just on the other side of the curtain, Tick didn’t linger. He brought himself to the edge with swift strokes. As he was close to his release, she leaned in and ran her tongue over his nipple.

  An exquisite sensation rocketed through him, and he exploded so quickly, he almost forgot about the towel. Hastily, he wrapped it over himself, certain she would lose all interest in him if he ejaculated all over her immaculate lab. She didn’t seem to notice. The lick turned into a suck, and she swirled her tongue around his nipple.

  “I—”

  The curtain moved, and he jerked around, putting his back to it, hiding his exposed cock. Lauren stepped back, her eyes gleaming as she ignored the curtain and gazed up at him. The expression wasn’t exactly adoration, but it wasn’t clinical curiosity this time. She seemed… pleased. Approving.

  “You done getting doctored up, Tick?” Lieutenant Sparks asked.

  He managed an impressively calm voice when he said, “Yes, sir. Just going to have to watch the ribs for a while.” And the tendency for his cock to surge into full erection whenever he thought of Lauren.

  “Well, get dressed and get out here. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ignoring the draft that whispered through the curtain, a sign that the hatch was open, Tick fastened himself in and looked for the shirt he had plucked off as soon as he’d entered the lab. The Gar-zymes hadn’t repaired the rips and stains yet. He probably should have been digging out a change of clothes rather than flirting with Lauren. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it and was sure the grin he gave her after tugging his shirt over his head was on the goofy side. Her expression was a tad more sedate, and he hoped she wasn’t second-guessing herself for letting him get close—very close. His grin widened at the memory of her pressing back into him, moaning softly. He couldn’t help it.

  Tick leaned forward, almost kissing her before he remembered her preference. Instead, he slipped his arms around her, resting his jaw against her temple, hoping she wouldn’t object to a goodbye hug. Just because she had enjoyed—he hoped she had enjoyed—having him give her a sexual release didn’t mean she would instantly want him draped over her all the time. And she did hesitate before responding, as if hugs weren’t something she knew how to handle. He started to pull back, but instead of pushing him away, as he feared she might, she wrapped one arm around him, her hand resting on his butt.

  He almost laughed. That was her preferred handle on him, was it? He certainly didn’t mind, though he hoped he could convince her to grab other things later. The memory of her mouth on his nipple would remain seared in his mind, making it hard for him to focus on his work, as he imagined what else she might have licked if they’d had more time.

  “Stay safe while we’re gone,” he whispered. “With the hatch locked.”

  “I plan to remain right in here, doing the research you so rudely distracted me from.” Her tone was teasing, so he was fairly certain she wasn’t particularly offended by his rudeness.

  “By having injuries? You’re right. That was rude of me.”

  “Yes, don’t let yourself receive any more of them. It would inconvenience me.” She squeezed his ass before stepping back.

  Reluctantly, he lowered his arms, also stepping back. Her eyes were twinkling. Damn, that was appealing.

  “The captain is hollering for his tracker,” someone yelled from the base of the ramp outside.

  Tick sighed, gave her a salute, and jogged out of the lab.

  Chapter 13

  To Lauren’s surprise, her sister did not go with the mercenaries this time. When she left her lab to hunt down a ration log and something hot to drink, she found Hailey sitting quietly in the pilot’s seat. Jamie, down on her
knees with her head stuck in an access station, must not have minded. Ankari sat next to them, handing Jamie tools as they were needed. A few lights flashed on the control panel in response to the tinkering, or perhaps to the curses and grunts.

  “You didn’t feel the need to personally supervise the mercenaries?” Lauren asked as she fished into the box of ration bars. Though the Albatross now claimed the services of a cook, the packing list for missions remained the same as before, with such exciting meals as “egg log,” “meatloaf log,” and “ham log” awaiting her selection.

  “Not this time,” Hailey said. “Oddly, they didn’t seem disappointed when I decided to stay here.”

  Lauren selected a turkey log—as she recalled, it was less salty than the other offerings, and the cranberries mashed into it offered a hint of sweetness. “That is odd.”

  Lauren grabbed a tea bag and some hot water and returned to her lab, passing the two armed and armored men who had been left behind to guard the shuttle. She trusted neither of them would feel the urge to kidnap Hailey and tote her off to some bounty hunter, but she was relieved, nevertheless, that neither of them was Grenavinian or a part of her experiments. Heath was the only one remaining on the mission who was displaying unusual mental abilities.

  She smiled as she ducked through her curtain and into the lab, remembering how much she had enjoyed his other abilities. Such an unusual reaction from her. She found herself wondering if he had influenced her somehow with his mind powers, but that seemed so unlike him that she dismissed the thought immediately. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had never been attracted to anyone before. There had been boys at the university whom she’d occasionally speculated about, usually lab partners or colleagues on group projects, people she’d come to know and like. She couldn’t remember ever caring one way or another about a stranger. Even when she came to like people, though, it was rare for her to have sexual thoughts involving them. She’d always had a low sex drive, rarely even feeling the need to masturbate. It mystified her somewhat that Heath had wormed his way into her thoughts. And her pants. She smiled again, her body flushing at the memory of the way he’d touched her. Who would have thought that some thugly mercenary, as Hailey would call him, would be better at stimulating her clitoris than she was?