Page 8 of The Price of Peace
“Oh,” she said again, then cleared her throat.
I was beginning to wonder if the cold had affected her more than I had thought. That was the second
“oh” I’d received in a row. She’d never before been short of words. Maybe I should ask something simple to allow her neurons to warm up slowly as well. “I never got your first name Agent Veylora. Do you mind sharing it with me?”
“Peace,” she answered, her voice sounding more like a contented sigh than speech.
As my hands continued to caress her bare flesh, and she rested her head back on my chest, I thought I’d never heard a more perfect name.
7
PEACE
The next time I started to swim up from the depths of sleep, deep growly notes slowly coalesced into words. Dirty words. Dirty, filthy words that I didn’t know what to do with.
By all the burning suns, her skin is so fekking soft. She’s sound asleep. I wonder whether I could slip my fingers under her waistband and feel that perfect ass. No. Stop it. That would be all kinds of wrong, you fekker. And she’d tear your lingams off if she caught you. But fekk, those curves are luscious enough to feast on. Maybe a little lick. That shouldn’t wake her up, should it? Her nipples are as hard as lithsomorphrian shards. Blessed sands! What I wouldn’t give for just a little taste. But that would surely wake her up. Nope. No sucking on her nipples. That would be a bad idea. But if I could just get her leg to move up a couple of microns, I could die a happy male …
It was like listening to running dialogue at the beginning of a porno, but about me. It was even worse when I realized that once again, his voice was in my head. What the actual fekk was upwith that? Could he hear me now, too? I froze not knowing what to do. Part of me wanted to do exactly what he feared I would do and inflict serious damage to his, um, lingams—his cocks. Rykantosian males had two, which I’d enjoyed in the past, but shouldn’t enjoy with my bounty. Right?
Buuut, his constant stroking over my body felt delicious. And he was so warm. He was like a personal electric blanket, and I was too cozy between the coats with him to relish digging out another heating unit from my bag in the cold.
I tried to blank out my inner monologue—just in case. I could just enjoy the sensations for a little while and not think, I was pretty sure. Yep, I could do that. There was nowhere to go, and rest was important.
Wasn’t letting the fugitive you were hunting feel you up breaking some recovery agent ethical code? I frowned. I should let him know I was awake and make him stop. I really should.
Who was I kidding? There wasn’t a bounty hunter code of ethics other than “catch the bad guy and make sure to get your credits before turning over the fugitive”. Especially from the Xantorans. Those fekkers were all liars and crooks.
Keeping my eyes closed, I ever so slowly tilted my hips and inched my knee higher until I felt my thigh brush his hard length under the rough cloth of his prison pants. A low moan vibrated against my ear, so I knew this one was out loud. I bit my lip to avoid smirking. If we were killed by this hostile environment, he could die happy now I suppose. Wasn’t I merciful?
I pushed my thigh a little higher and pretended to stretch. Reaching one arm across his chest, I felt his muscles dance under my fingertips while I surreptitiously explored his pecs on the way to his brawny shoulder, before resting my hand there. His heartbeat thundered under my ear, and two rods poked at my belly and my clit at the same time.
Holy mother, bringer of all light!The man was packing some serious heat. My mouth was suddenly dry, and I worried I might be pushing this game too far, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. My whole body screamed to quit playing, strip down, and mount this male immediately!
Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I fought the strange urge with all my might. This was a big problem. I’d never felt like this before. I wasn’t a virgin—I’d stopped on a few pleasure planets out of curiosity on my travels—but sex had never been very important to me. The few times I’d engaged, I didn’t get what all the fuss was about. Apprehending criminals was a bigger rush in my opinion. But this male, he made every fiber in my body sing. And I didn’t know what to think about that.
“I make your body sing?” An amused voice interrupted my naughty thoughts. A real voice.Fekking hells.I didn’t move.
“I know you’re awake. You’ve got a death grip on my shoulder, and you quit breathing regularly somewhere around ‘mount him immediately’.”
The air caught in my lungs came rushing out.Goddess fekk it all!“Well, it’s kind of hard to sleep when you’re feeling me up, fugitive.”
“I don’t think you minded so much based on what you—ow!”
Xyrox grabbed my wrist as I scrambled to a sitting position on his abdomen.
“Let go!” I tried to jerk my arm away, but stopped and gasped at what I saw on his chest where my palm had been resting a moment before. A perfect spiral with a symbol in the middle was tattooed in white on his sternum—an exact copy of mine. My mouth fell open.
“Where did you get that?” My voice shook as I slowly met his gaze.
Xyrox looked down at his chest, his vivid green eyes widening in shock. “I’ve never seen it before.”
I glared at him in disbelief. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not. Honest. That is not one of my tattoos. I felt my chest burn earlier, but I thought—I thought it was my imagination. I don’t know what this is.”
Swallowing hard, I tugged my wrist away from him, and he released me.I slowly pulled down the neck of my shirt just far enough to display the tattoo on my chest between my breasts—the perfect match for the one now burned into his skin.
“That’s incredible. Where did you get yours?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He carefully traced the swirling lines with his finger before his eyes returned to mine.
