No Such Thing (15 page)

Her cheeks burning again, she looked down at her clasped hands and babbled. "Declan, the Chief called you here for me, I mean, I asked him if I could
see you for a moment, so he called you. To see me, not him. Can I—can I talk to you for a minute?"

"I’m sorry," he said abruptly.

"Wh-what?" She looked up to see his angular face set in grim lines, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was looking at her as though he
desperately wanted to be anywhere else. Her heart sank. "You don’t have time?"

He gave a little shake of his head. "That’s not what I mean. I’m sorry for—for last night. I was out of line. I didn’t mean
to scare you or upset you, and I’m sorry."

"You didn’t," she managed in a weak voice, feeling her face burn hotter.

"You ran."

She rolled her eyes. She was starting to get the hang of it. "That’s because I’m an idiot."

She surprised a snort of laughter out of him, which he suppressed with a firm press of his lips. Then he folded his arms across his chest and stared down
at his feet, rocking just a bit on his heels.

"Are you laughing because I’m an idiot or because I rolled my eyes?"

He angled a quick look up at her, his mouth relaxing into a mischievous smile. "I was trying to figure out how to tell you, without you getting mad
at me, that you looked like a normal girl just now. And I was the idiot. Should’ve kept my hands to myself."

She narrowed her eyes on him. "All three of those comments are seriously debatable."

His smile faded and he straightened to meet her gaze steadily. "Which part did you want to debate first?" There was a warmth in his eyes and in
his honey voice that pulled at her, weakened her all over. But he still stood all the way across the room and she didn’t know how to ask.

Looking away, she turned to pace a random path to the Chief’s desk. "I’m not normal."

"True. You’re amazing. Incredible. Fascinating. Unique. Not normal."

Warmth spread a glowing bubble in her chest and a helpless smile curved her lips. If only he really believed all that. "That’s a lot of
questionable adjectives."

"Don’t use big words on us idiots, lady. It ain’t nice," he drawled in his worst Nine Rings accent.

A flash of anger melted her nerves for a moment and she swung away from the desk to head straight for him. "You are
not
an idiot."

His smirk turned into a rueful smile, as she stopped almost on his toes with her hands on her hips. "Well, I was last night. I chased you
away."

Her nerves came back with a vengeance and Ryelle hid her mortified face in her hands. "Ugh. I have no idea why I did that."

"I scared you?"

"No, you didn’t scare me. Surprised, yes." She dropped her hands but kept her gaze fixed on his folded arms. She noticed that his muscles
were flexing slowly, as if he was clenching his fists. Taking a deep breath, she tried to get it out. "I’m very embarrassed that I left that
way. People k-kiss all the time. I know you were pushed into it, so I don’t—I mean, I wouldn’t—I j-just don’t want it to ruin
our friendship," she finished miserably, folding her own arms in an attempt to keep from clutching at him and pleading. Good god, that had been the
most pathetic speech she’d ever made.

"What do you mean, pushed?" His sharp tone almost made her flinch.

"I mean, you were still affected by what I did to you on the command deck."

"No, I wasn’t."

She looked up with a frown, feeling her heart thud at the direct intensity of his blue eyes. "You weren’t? Than why did you kiss me?"

He gave a short laugh, tipping his head back and studying the ceiling as if it held the secrets to the universe. Then he looked back down at her and took a
very deliberate step backward. His tone was also deliberate as he said, "I’m doing this because I’d really like to show you and that
would make me twice the idiot. I’m also doing it so you won’t think your power has anything to do with how I feel."

Her frown lingered as she considered his words. Twice the idiot? Did that mean he wanted to kiss her again? "But I’m not doing anything to you
now."

"Right. You’re not. So it’s all me when I say—" He took a deep breath and continued, "When I say I’ve wanted to
kiss you since I first laid eyes on you."

She jerked in surprise and he took another hasty step backward, angling to stand in front of the exit with a nervous laugh. "Don’t run
yet."

She narrowed her eyes on him. "I wasn’t about to," she said coolly.

"Okay, good." He shifted in place, watching her warily for a moment. "So I’ve got a question for you."

She was still trying to get over her irritation that he expected her to bolt again and trying to wrap her mind around the idea that he actually wanted to
kiss her. She wasn’t sure she was ready for a question but nodded anyway.

He folded his arms tighter across his chest, straining his shirt in an alarming way. "Two questions, I guess. First one—you thought you’d
hurt me on the command deck. How did you feel when you found out it was…something else?" His voice sounded a little strangled at the end, eyes
darting everywhere but at her while his cheekbones darkened perceptibly.

She felt her own cheeks blaze with color again and she lifted her hands to cover them, wondering if somebody could die of mortification.
"Feel?" she squeaked and cleared her throat to try again, spinning away in the hopes that movement would help her think. Seemed to work for the
commander. "I was—glad I hadn’t hurt you. Embarrassed that I didn’t—didn’t know. Guilty that I forced it on
you—"

"Well, you can stop that," he said with such rueful humor that she managed to look at him without bursting into mortified flame. He
wasn’t quite looking at her either, his eyes trained somewhere around her feet, but there was a crooked smile on his face. "Mostly I need to
know if you were garsed out. Or if it scares you to know I felt like that about you."

"I’ll thank you to stop asking if you scare me," she said sharply and his smile flashed into a charming grin. "You don’t. And
no, I wasn’t sick about it. Well, when I thought it was pain, but not after."

"Good to know," he murmured in that dark honey voice of his and she felt her knees start to wobble. "Second question—did you like
the kiss?" He started moving toward her, his grin fading into a smile so potent, it almost stopped her heart. "Come to think of it, I’ve
got one more after that."

Her mind was a big, mushy mess. She watched him come closer until he stopped right in front of her. She watched him study her face, watched him look at her
mouth with his beautiful indigo eyes and thought she was going to collapse at his feet.

"Well?" he murmured.

"What was the question?" she breathed, swaying a little.

"Did you like it? Did you like me touching you? Did you like me kissing you? Do you want me to do it again?"

"Yes," she whispered, then swallowed hard. "To all the above."

"Thank god," he muttered and reached for her.

His big hands closed very gently on either side of her face, cradling her in warmth as he bent his head. She clutched at his arms, because she really
thought she might be falling but didn’t want to take the time to be sure. Not when she could feel his warm breath on her face, on her lips. Not when
his mouth started a tingling brush against her lips, sending quivers running down her entire body. She was captivated by the motion of his mouth, the
incredible mobility of it, the astonishing way she could feel every subtle motion. He made a sound in his throat and she could feel it, the vibration
moving from his lips to hers and diving somewhere deep inside her to send out a new wave of shocking warmth. She thought dimly that she could do this
forever…if only she could breathe right.

She pulled back a little and he lifted his head, eyes heavy-lidded but a little wary as he looked down at her. "Is this normal?" she gasped.
"I feel so strange."

"Strange?" He straightened a bit more, a frown flickering over his face.

"Yes. I feel really weak when you touch me."

His face lit up with a warm smile that did wonderful, terrible things to her insides. He let go of her face and grasped her shoulders, turning her and then
applying pressure until she was perched on the edge of the Chief’s desk. "Better?"

She nodded solemnly, wondering if she was being an idiot again. He’d stopped kissing her, after all. That wasn’t the result she’d been
going for. "My breathing is erratic and my heart is beating way too fast."

He lifted one of her hands and pressed it flat to his chest. "Mine, too."

She stared at his chest, fascinated. It rose and fell almost as fast as her own, and she could feel the hard thump of his heart within. "Oh,"
she murmured, though over half of her attention was riveted on the feel of hard muscle under her fingers. Incredible. He was so different from her.

He lifted her hand away and kissed the palm, very lightly and quickly, sending a shiver up her arm and down her spine. His smile had changed in a way that
made heat bloom in her middle again.

"I’ve also got chills, and I’m warm all over…"

"Yeah," he said in an oddly rough voice, leaning closer with his hands on the desk on either side of her, eyes fixing on her mouth. "I
know the feeling."

"So that’s all normal?"

"Mm-hmm."

"In that case, can I try kissing you now?"

"Yes, please," he growled.

She placed her hands on either side of his face, exactly as he had done. It made him smile, eyes lighting up and twinkling at her. She ignored it—she
was on a mission. Pulling his face to hers, she brushed her lips against his, moving them as he’d moved them, then finding new ways for their mouths
to fit together. After a few long, delirious moments, she allowed a small space between them to ask, "Am I doing this right?"

"Very, very right," he rasped, his voice even rougher now than before.

She would have continued kissing him, but she suddenly discovered the texture of his face. Pulling back, she studied him as her fingers flexed against his
skin. Both smooth and rough on the surface, hard contours underneath, soft lips, stern brow, tender eyelids…he was a study in contradictions. She
could stare at him for hours. "You’re so different from me."

"Can I hold you?" he whispered.

Her attention was caught by his lashes, so full and dark, and what an incredible contrast they made against his bright eyes. "Hold me?" she
asked absently.

"Put my arms around you."

"Mm-hmm." She hadn’t really paid attention to what she was agreeing to until his arms went around her, curling her close.
"Oh."

"Stop?"

"No," she answered, considering the warm strength of his arms around her. Better than holding hands. Much better. "No, hold me."

He cradled her close, one arm around her back and the other slipping up until his hand curled around the back of her neck. Her head tucked neatly under his
chin, and Ryelle leaned against him, breathing him in and feeling a dizzy sense of joy and contentment. He smelled smoky, an exotic scent that made her
wonder if his skin tasted like he smelled. He wasn’t pressing her close, but she could still feel the tremors that ran through his body. The
vibration made her want to get closer, to wrap his warmth and strength around her as tightly as possible. But when she shifted toward him, he let her go
with a shaky breath.

"Time to stop," he said in a hoarse voice, holding her gently by the upper arms and moving away. His eyes blazed like blue suns.

Curious and a little hurt, she asked, "Why?"

"Because I like holding you too much."

"Too much? That doesn’t make any—"

He stopped her with a kiss, which she couldn’t really argue with. Especially this new kiss, slicker, hotter, harder. But it ended almost before it
had begun. "Too much," he said in a rough voice that seemed to sink into her to her bones. Then he moved away, collapsing into a chair next to
the desk. "Let’s just talk a bit."

She sank back down onto the edge of the desk with a frown. "I’d rather finish that last kiss."

He groaned, running rough fingers over his face and through his hair. "I finish that kiss, and we’re both in serious trouble," he said to
the floor, linking his fingers behind his neck as he rested his elbows on knees.

"Trouble?"

He let his hands dangle and looked up at her, his sky eyes filled with a desperate kind of humor. "You’ve heard of sex, right?"

She scowled at him. "I had the class."

"Then maybe you’ll recognize the flight path we were on."

"We weren’t—that wasn’t—"

"Kissing’s a long way from the end, but it’s a damned good start. Especially how you kiss," he added with a smoldering look at her
mouth. "And I don’t wanna go too fast and scare—" She kicked him in the knee. "Ow!"

"I told you, you don’t scare me."

He rubbed at his knee, half laughing, half glaring at her. "Well, that took care of part of the problem. I can go out in public without embarrassing
myself now. Let’s take a walk." He stood up, favoring the knee with a reproachful glance at her, before taking her elbow and urging her toward
the door.

She went with great reluctance, still feeling the heated effects of his last kiss. "Embarrassing yourself how?"

He groaned again and she felt her cheeks warm. "We need to talk about something else. Anything else, right now."

They left the Chief’s office and Declan dropped his hand from her elbow. Rebellious resentment surged up in her. To hell with her position and what
the Institute might think of it—she needed his touch more than anything in the universe. She’d done without it for far too long, and she
wasn’t going to anymore. She slipped her hand in his and was rewarded with his sunshine smile, his gentle, secure grip sending warmth spiraling up
her arm and blooming in her chest in expanding happiness.

She didn’t have a communicator and the deck outside of the Chief’s office was far too loud for conversation, so she contented herself with just
looking at him, marveling at the light in his eyes and the curve of his smile. She’d touched that curve, put her lips there. She’d actually
kissed someone. How amazing.