Page 66 of The Garnet Daughter
“We’re not done.” His hold on me tightens, pinning me against him. He points at the buttons on the data pad on his armrest with his free hand. “This one.”
I give him a flat look.
“You wanted to learn. Landing protocols have to be done.” He forces a sincere face.
I press the button next to his arm.
“What does the screen say?”
“100 xc. Twice.”
“Thank the three worlds. I thought for sure you broke it.” He feigns relief.
I smack his arm lightly to stop his teasing, not when I am this close to him and can feel how solid his chest is against me.
“You did well.”
“Thank you.”
A beeping sound comes from the station in front of us, a blinking red light flashing.
“How did you open the cargo hull?” He laughs a little and presses a code in the armrest, and then it ceases.
“I think I bumped into the side of it before I fell.” I do everything I can to not acknowledge I’m still sitting on his widely spread legs. But there isn’t even a speck of strangeness between us. It’s natural, comfortable.
“All shut now.” He nods and looks down, like he doesn’t want to point it out either.
“What does that one do?” I gesture to the large red button.
“That comms the entire ship for announcements.” He entices. “Go on.”
I press it.
“All crew. All crew.” He tilts toward it, his voice echoing in the rest of the ship.
For some reason, it makes me laugh, which only encourages him.
He feigns a serious face. “We have a pilot in training onboard, so be sure to strap in tightly.”
Without thinking, I lean in close and speak into the red button, my cheek pressed against the scruff on his. “All crew. All crew. So sorry about that.”
I barely get out my sentence before he throws his head back and barks a robust laugh. I join in a little, but mostly admire his masculine features contorted in joy and then try to ignore the bouncing motion we make as his laughter dies down.
“I don’t need a separate ship, August.” I pick at my nail bed, and when I am brave enough to look at him, he studies my face.
He reaches up and tucks an escaped curl behind my ear, and his fingertips send a chill across my skin. “That’s right, you said you didn’t want space.”
I nod because it’s the opposite. I want to be near him and that scares me. If we aren’t fully occupied by a task, the tension that’s growing like a diligent vine will slither in and remind me of things unspoken.
His gaze flicks to my lips and my insides twist tightly.
And just like I knew it would happen, he is looking at me again in the same way he did on Frith, after we spent the night pressed against each other, waiting to fold.
“Calliape, if you want me to back off . . .” He exhales like it is painful to think of that possibility, his steady heartbeat pounding so hard, I can feel it on my shoulder.
I touch his face, and he leans into my palm as if there is a current running through it. The muscle of his jaw flexes under my caress and his hooded eyes flick to my mouth again, lingering there with a wistful edge. It would take very little effort to lean forward and press into his full lips. The thought of letting my treacherous body do so takes my breath from me in a thrilling gasp.
But it’s dangerous to get close to August in this way. I am supposed to be fixing the mistake I made and then going back to Frith, where I can’t hurt anyone else.
