Microsoft Word - Blind_Space-Marie_Sexton.doc (9 page)

"You have no idea how tempting this is," he said breathlessly. "I wish I
had
helped you out of those pants."

The thought made me shiver. I couldn't deny how

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arousing the idea was, and yet I still felt it was something I shouldn't want. I certainly shouldn't want it so much that the thought of it made me whimper.

He kissed my neck, pushing against me again.

My heart raced. His kisses felt good. The pressure

between my legs felt divine. I raised my other knee to match the one he held, allowing my ass to slide toward him, and his groin to push harder against me, his erection hard between my cheeks, and he moaned. He began to

caress my nipple with his free hand and I tried not to whimper.

"Captain Kelley," he said, "tell me your name."

I felt myself on the crest of a hill, with a long,

slippery slope beneath me. I felt myself tipping over. I wanted to slide down to what lay below. But some part of my mind rebelled. I couldn't speak at all. The only thing I managed was to shake my head.

He moaned again, this time from frustration. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," he said. He pulled away. He let go of my knee. The beautiful pressure

between my legs lessened.

I didn't want it to stop. I wished I could relive the moment. I wished this time, I could say my name.

He stayed between my knees, but without pushing

against me so hard. "Are you ready?" he asked.

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I wasn't sure what he was talking about. Was I

ready for what? To tell him my name? To let him touch me? To slide down that dangerous slope?

"Look up a bit," he said. His finger nudged my chin, and then he began to massage a cool, moist substance into my beard.

The clean, cold, soapy smell of the shaving lotion

was wonderfully familiar—it was the smell I'd come to associate with him. I found myself relaxing despite everything. I sat there, blind and blindfolded, my hands bound, completely helpless while he tended to me. The slow, gentle rhythm of the razor over my skin was

hypnotic, punctuated by the splash of water as he shook the razor clean in the sink. He didn't speak, but he tilted my head with his fingers, first to the right, then to the left. His hands were gentle.

I was aware of every single touch. Whenever he

stopped to rinse the razor with his right hand, his left hand would rest on my thigh. It made my heart skip a beat each and every time it happened. I became hyper-vigilant of his groin brushing against mine as he moved. My cock was hard inside my pants, and although my bound hands rested on top of it, I wondered if he knew.

I wondered what he looked like. He was clean-

shaven. I knew that from the times he'd kissed my cheeks

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and neck. His hair was long enough to brush my cheeks when he did. Other than that, I knew nothing. Nothing except the frightening pleasure of his touch.

"Finished," he said, much too soon. He patted my face with a towel, wiping away the last traces of lotion.

"Much better," he said. He ran a fingertip down my cheek. I felt his other hand resting on my thigh.

Gods, it felt so good.

He cupped my cheek in his hand. "Every time I see you, I want you more. Maybe it would be better if I left you alone with your men and tried to forget you." His thumb brushed over my lips. I was trembling. Could he tell? "I must be a fool," he said. "I think you only come here to torture me, Captain Kelley."

He started to pull away, and I felt a flash of

disappointment at the thought. I didn't want the moment to end. I hooked my feet behind his legs, holding him between my knees. I heard his breath catch in his throat. I felt his hand clench on my thigh.

It was unbelievably easy to let myself fall over the edge.

"My name is Tristan."

For a heartbeat, he didn't react at all. I sat there, my heart pounding in my chest, feeling as if I could barely breathe.

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I felt him lean close. I felt his breath against my lips. "Tristan," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He kissed me. He wasn't aggressive. His lips were

soft. His mouth was warm. The tip of his tongue teased against my lips. I forgot my hands were bound. I tried to pull them apart. I wanted to put my arms around him, to pull him in deeper, but the tie stopped me short, and I moaned in frustration. My arms were wedged tight between us. He wrapped one of his arms around me. The other cupped the back of my head, pulling lightly on my hair, and I parted my lips. I let him deepen the kiss. I let his tongue brush mine, and felt as though I lost all control of myself.

Any resolve I might have had to stop this before it went too far disappeared in a one frantic heartbeat. I melted against him, whimpering, and I felt the change it triggered in him.

He instantly became more aggressive. He growled as he kissed me harder. He couldn't seem to decide what to do with his hands. They were everywhere, pulling my hair, stroking my back, teasing my nipples. It made me dizzy.

He broke our kiss suddenly, although he didn't let

me go. He was breathing hard, and it almost seemed I could
feel
him looking at me. "You have no idea how crazy you make me," he said. "I don't know what to do to you first."

"Please," I gasped. I didn't even know what I was

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begging for. I only knew it involved him. "Please," I said again.

"Tristan," he whispered. He pulled away, but only enough to reach down and touch the tie at my wrists. "Do I dare cut you free?"

Yes!
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to put my arms around him.
Yes, untie me. Yes, do
anything you want to me!

But that, of course, was when someone started

pounding on the door, seemingly loud enough to wake the whole gods damned floor.

"Valero," yelled a voice I didn't know. "Captain Yima needs to see you at once."

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My heart was pounding in my chest. I was trying to

catch my breath. Valero put his head down on my shoulder and cursed—I didn't know the language, but I understood his inflection well enough.

"Valero?" the voice called again.

He let me go, moving toward the door to yell, "I'm coming!" He took my hand and I allowed him to pull me off the counter to my feet. "Tristan," he said, and I could tell by the tone of his voice he was going to apologize.

"Duty calls," I said, trying to joke, although my voice shook. "Even for pirates."

He laughed, sounding no more steady than I felt. "It better be urgent."

Valero turned me over to the man at the door, who

escorted me back to the medical bay. It wasn't Pierce—the pace and weight of his steps was wrong, and his breathing was too heavy. Whoever he was, he didn't speak to me. I was glad. I was able to spend the time concentrating on getting my breathing and my erection under control.

I wasn't sure what I was feeling. Desire, of course. I wanted him. I couldn't deny it. But under it was still a nagging sense of guilt—he was my captor, and my duty as a Regency officer was clear. And yet, what did I have to

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gain by denying myself? The prince was safe. We had only to wait for the ransom, and then I'd be back home. Back at the Regency. Back in Rikard's bed, whether I liked it or not.

Why shouldn't I have a little fun?

I also hadn't forgotten Jerald's words. I'd given my loyalty to the Regency at the age of sixteen because it seemed like the only logical thing to do, but had they ever done anything to earn it?

Did it matter?

I was restless the next day as I awaited his

summons. My men bickered. The room stank of sweat and ale. The hours seemed even longer than usual, and it felt like I spent every moment thinking about Valero.

At last, I was escorted by a silent Pierce to Valero's door.

Valero kept his distance from me at first. It

surprised me. After what had happened at our last visit, I expected him to kiss me. Or at least to flirt with me.

Instead, he took my arm, and led me to the table.

"Sit down, Tristan," he said. He sounded tired.

"Eat."

"Is something wrong?" I asked, because something clearly was.

"Eat first," he said. "Please."

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I still didn't drink the wine, but for once I ate the food he'd put on my plate. He was unusually quiet, and I couldn't help but wonder what he had to say.

"We've received word from the Regent," he said at last.

I could tell by his tone of voice it wasn't good.

"And?"

"They've agreed to pay the prince's ransom," he said. "But not yours."

"Not
mine
?" I asked. "Do they think I've betrayed him?" Of course, maybe I had, but not in the way they probably thought, and how would they have known?

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't make myself clear.

What I meant was, they've denied payment for everybody except Rikard."

"But…" I stammered. "Why?"

"The exact message was, 'None of the crew is of sufficient import as to warrant such an extravagant ransom'."

I was speechless. Yes, Jerald had hinted it might

happen, but I honestly hadn't expected the Regent to so callously throw away the lives of the men who worked for him.

"What happens now?" I asked.

He sighed. "That's up to you and your men. We

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don't deal with slavers, but we do expect to turn a profit."

"How?"

"Basically, it's every man for himself. They'll each have a chance to present an offer. Maybe somebody else who will ransom them, or they can use their own money if they have it. Information is good, if they have specific knowledge about shipments or transactions we might

benefit from."

"And what happens to the men who have none of

that?"

"They'll be left at the next port."

"Marooned?" I asked.

"It will be an active port. Not some abandoned outpost in the void. There are plenty of ways for willing and able-bodied men to find their way home."

"Even without their sight?" I asked, and I couldn't help but be a bit sarcastic.

"Yes," he said, his voice cold and hard. "That's how it works."

I leaned over and put my head in my hands. Jerald

had been right. The Regency had proven themselves

unworthy of my loyalty. My men and I were no longer in their employ, which meant I was no longer their captain.

Only one tie remained to my old life.

I sat up and faced Valero, even though I couldn't see

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him.

"I need to see the prince."

It took him a moment to answer. "Why?" he asked finally.

"I need to know if he's the one who sold us out."

"I could tell you—"

"I want to hear it from him."

I heard him get up and walk around the table to me.

He took my elbow and helped me to my feet. "I'll take you to see him." He hesitated a moment, then asked, "Will you come back here with me afterward?"

So much guarded hope in his voice. It made me

smile. "Yes," I said.

"Good." I knew from his tone he was smiling, too.

He led me to the side of the room. "I brought a few of your things."

"Clean pants, I hope?"

"Among other things." He sounded oddly amused as he said it. He caressed my bare arm. His soft lips brushed mine. His fingers played at my pant buckle. "Do I finally get to help you out of these?"

"Yes." I parted my lips and let him kiss me as he undid them. I loved his clean smell. I loved the way he tasted, and the way he sighed against my lips as his tongue found mine. He slid my uniform pants down off my hips,

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letting them fall to the floor, leaving me naked except for my blindfold and the tie that bound my wrists.

"You've been bare underneath those pants all this time?"

"I was in a hurry when I got dressed."

He laughed throatily. He caressed my hip with his

hand as he kissed my jaw. "I'm glad I didn't know," he said.

"It would have driven me crazy."

He pulled away from me a bit, although his hand

was still on my back. "I hate the thought of putting clothes back on you," he said. "I've worked so hard to get them off.

But I suppose you'd rather be dressed when we see

Rikard?"

"Definitely." Not that Rikard had never seen me naked, but I sure didn't want to be paraded through the ship that way.

"I have some of your clothes here," he said. "But there's something else I thought you might like first."

His tone was odd. Halfway teasing. Halfway

suggestive. Slightly amused, as always.

"What?" I asked.

"These." He took my bound hands and put them on top of something soft. Having my wrists tied together made it difficult, but I felt what was beneath my hands.

Fabric.

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