Page 40 of Tempting Cargo
He raised his brows. “What happened to ‘on this ship, you will call me Captain’?”
I took a breath. “My friends call me Shohari.”I would like us to be friends, Garrison.
A faint smile lifted his lovely mouth. “And my friends call me Garrison.”
He glanced over to where the four other humans huddled on my sofa, watching vids on the holoscreen. Something unspoken passed between them, and they shuffled out, muttering between themselves.
The drinks machine hissed, and I added the milk and sugar he liked. “Your chrya, Garrison.”
When he took the mug, his fingers brushed mine, just like yesterday. My stomach squeezed, and I couldn’t stop my lips parting in a soft gasp.
“Thank you, Shohari. Does this mean we’re friends?” He quirked one brow up high.
“That… would please me.” I forced myself to smile, even though I wanted to growl at myself for slipping into old speech habits.
He stepped into my personal space with the controlled grace of a prowling mountain tsati. “What else can I do to please you?”
My spines ruffled. “You can drink your chrya and tell me it’s good.”
“I can do that.”
He brought the mug to his lips, eyes locked with mine before they fluttered closed. His head tilted back, revealing the strong, tempting column of his neck as he gave a long, sensual sigh. “So good, Shohari.”
When his gaze returned to mine, it danced with mirth.
“Are you always this easily pleased?” I sipped my chrya, forcing my breathing to slow.
The mirth vanished, a familiar, dark intensity rising in its place. “Not even close.”
The quiet stretched out between us, holding us in its fragile embrace.
Garrison’s mug clinked on the counter. “Everything on the bridge okay today?”
“As it should be.” I paused. “Thank you for helping with the flatcake toaster.”
He lifted his broad shoulders and dropped them again. “It’s fine. It broke while we were using it. Seemed the least I could do.”
We slipped back into quiet. I couldn’t help staring at his mouth, running my eyes over his body, the memory of yesterday too vivid to push aside.
When he spoke again, his voice was tight. “Why won’t you let me get close?” He shifted on his feet, not closer, not further away. “There’s something here, and we’re clearly not able to ignore it.” His voice dipped, and he leaned in. “Maybe a release will help.”
As my reserve crumbled further, I forced back a snarl. I couldn’t stay in control around him, so why couldn’t I let myself go?
A few awkward seconds later, his shoulders slumped. “Look, if you don’t like—”
I spun, pressed his back to the wall and blocked him in, my arms either side of his head. His breath caught, pupils dilating as I bored my eyes into his.
My breaths came in rough heaves. “It’s not that I don’t like you, Garrison,” I rumbled. “That’s the opposite of the problem.”
His voice remained steady even if his body trembled. “It doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”
“Well it is.” But I was forgetting why, and I could have sunk into the bliss of not knowing.
“You like me. I like you. The problem is we’re not doing anything about it.” He rested his hands on my hips, and I took an instinctive tiny step forwards.
His grip on me tightened. “I want to kiss you again, Shohari. But I have one condition.”
“What?” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his tempting, kissable mouth.
