The Tracker's Dilemma: (A Mandrake Company Science Fiction Romance) (21 page)

“So, what’s the problem with kissing?” he asked, hoping to steer the conversation back to more pertinent matters. He wanted to hear more about how she now found him appealing. Appeal was good.

The way her nose crinkled up would have made him laugh, if not for the fact that it meant he wasn’t likely to get a kiss any time soon.

“Having another person swirl his tongue around in your mouth like a geneticist collecting samples with a cotton swab? Ew.”

This time, he did laugh. He never would have imagined a scientist resorting to such imprecise terminology as
ew
.

“If there’s laughing going on in there, I don’t think your doctor is using a firm enough hand,” came Striker’s voice from beyond the curtain.

Ankari said something quelling to him, but Striker only snickered.

Tick sighed, reminded that they were far from alone. The curtain gave a semblance of privacy, but it did nothing to block sounds. Any fantasy he’d had of Lauren casting her sexual inhibitions aside and climbing onto the table with him wouldn’t likely happen
here
.

He lifted a hand to brush the hair dangling along the side of her face. She had finished patching his wounds and had turned a sour expression toward the curtain. Her attention shifted back to him. She did not pull away from his touch, and he traced her cheek and jaw with his fingers.

“Technically, kissing isn’t required,” he said carefully, not wanting to push her somewhere she didn’t want to go.

“No? In my experience, males always deem it ridiculously important.”

“Oh? In
my
experience, it’s usually the women who are particularly interested in kissing. Men are most interested in inserting, uhm—”

“Penises into orifices?”

“Essentially. Some orifices are preferred over others.” He kept himself from making a pathetic joke about the desirability of her orifices, one in particular. She still had that faint crinkle to her nose. “It doesn’t take much to get us ready for that.” He didn’t look down at the shirt in his lap. “If you were interested in a physical relationship—” he kept his voice down, not wanting to invite further mockery from the shuttle, “—it would be mostly about finding what does appeal to you to make sure you’re also… ready.”

“You needn’t be so vague, Heath. I’m fully aware of how intercourse works, and that lubrication and arousal are desirable.”

“Yes, of course. Do you have any idea what you would prefer to kissing? I once got a woman pretty excited with the fur tail from one of my caps.”

Judging by the further wrinkling of the nose, she wasn’t that intrigued by the idea. Or maybe she didn’t want to hear him talking about other women. That was understandable.

A long moment passed, and he worried she was about to step away and dismiss the conversation. She bit her lip and looked down at his chest, appearing uncharacteristically shy. A wave of heat coursed through him, centering around his cock. She wasn’t even touching him, but he could imagine her biting other things besides her lip.
His
things.

“The massage was nice,” Lauren whispered, her cheeks flushing pink, as if the admission embarrassed her. Or maybe she was remembering it with pleasure? He could hope.

“But not the ear nuzzling?” He had better get the boundaries figured out ahead of time, so he didn’t offend her again.

“Nuzzling? Heath, you were slurping at my earlobe like an ice cream cone on a hot day.”

This time,
he
flushed with embarrassment. “It was just a little taste. I thought you might like it.”
He’d
certainly liked it. “Do you want a massage now?”

“We’re not that far from our destination.”

As if on cue, Jamie said, “Ten minutes to the second canyon.”

Tick thought about pointing out that much could happen in ten minutes, but perhaps he should go to his seat. Touching her would only arouse him further and leave him in a painful state once they landed. The captain would want to set him to work right away, and the only work he would want to do was on himself. Still, this could be an opportunity to explore what she was willing to do—to let
him
do. He was mildly encouraged that she hadn’t seemed horrified at the notion of “penises in orifices,” not the way she had been about kissing.

“I’d like a massage,” she admitted quietly. “Though it does seem like it’s my turn to give you one. Also, you’re the injured patient.” She waved to the repair device humming happily on his ribs. “I shouldn’t impose on you.”

“It’s no imposition, trust me.” His mind almost short-circuited at the idea of her rubbing him, but that would truly leave him in a painful state. “You can massage me next time, if you wish.”

She smiled shyly, her gaze still toward his chest, and he wondered if she might be the faintest bit intrigued by the idea? He resisted the urge to flex his muscles for her—barely.

Though he liked her admiring his chest—or at least gazing in that direction while nibbling at her lip—he gripped her shoulders lightly and turned her around. She went willingly, and the hope that had been building throughout the conversation kept rising.

He shifted his weight, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the bed. After a second of debate, he adjusted them so one was on either side of her and pulled her back between them. He would be careful not to shove his cock up against her. This was about her. Finding out what aroused her, what appealed to her.

He lifted both hands to stroke her hair and pull it behind her head, fingers curling past her ears and rubbing her scalp lightly. His ribs protested at the lifting movement, but he did it, anyway. He took his time arranging her locks, knowing that he always enjoyed it when a woman played with his hair, grazing his scalp with her fingernails. Her chin drooped, and she leaned back against the table. Finding that promising, he shifted to rubbing her shoulders, as he’d done before. He teased out knots, alternately stroking and rubbing. She smelled good, as always, the scent of that orange sanitizer being particularly strong. She must have washed up before starting first aid on people. He leaned closer, breathing in the scent of her hair, of her warm skin. She relaxed… and he got further aroused. That wasn’t quite how this was supposed to go.

“I did like it,” she said softly.

Several moments had passed since they last spoke, so he puzzled over what she meant for a second before asking, “What?”

“When you slurped my ear.”

He wanted to object to such an unsexy word as slurp, but the alert zing that went through his body distracted him. Was that an invitation to do it again? “So—” he paused to clear his throat, which had grown oddly hoarse. “So, non-mouth-on-mouth kissing is acceptable?”

“It aroused me.”

He wasn’t sure that was a positive answer—she sounded like a scientist reporting on the results of an experiment rather than a woman begging for further attention from his lips. He reminded himself that she
was
a scientist. For all he knew, she might be analyzing every stroke from his hands and the degree to which it stimulated her. As long as he
did
stimulate her, that was fine with him.

He scooted closer, continuing to massage her shoulders as he leaned in to nuzzle the side of her neck. He inhaled her scent, not licking her, not yet. He trailed his lips along her warm skin and grew excited when she leaned her head back, exposing more of her neck to him. He couldn’t resist further. He nipped lightly at that skin as he lowered one arm to wrap around her waist, to draw her closer to him, to claim her. Mine, he wanted to growl. But he didn’t want to alarm her. Or get too excited. They didn’t have much time, and it would only be harder to get back to work, the further he let his fantasies go, the more of her he touched and tasted.

A soft contented sound, nearly a moan, escaped her lips, and that charged him more than all of his explorations of her body. She
could
enjoy sex. He was sure of it.

As he kissed his way to her collarbone, he spotted her nipples, pert and hard as they poked against her shirt. Another zing of desire coursed through him, his cock painfully hard now. He told himself to stop, but his hands kept roaming. He wanted to brush his thumb across one of those nipples, to cup her breast. He was still managing a semblance of a massage with his left hand, but his right nudged her shirt from her belt, delighting in brushing along bare skin. Would she let him run it up her sleek stomach to her breast?

“Heath?” Lauren whispered.

He paused, his hand halfway to its destination, his fingers caressing her skin as he nuzzled her neck, thinking of sucking on that earlobe again. “Hm?” he murmured, afraid she would ask him to stop.

“You’re aroused,” she stated.

He realized he had failed in his vow not to pull her close, and his hard cock was nudging her ass. He swallowed, wanting to do a lot more than nudge her. “Yeah,” he said—there was little point in denying it. “I have been since you took my shirt off.”

“I haven’t done anything.” She lifted one hand to the arm he had wrapped around her waist, gripping him lightly. Would she push him away? Before he’d managed to stroke her breast? That seemed terribly unfair.

“You’re here with me, close to me,” he whispered. “My sexy scientist.”

She snorted. “I’m hardly that.”

Instead of pushing his hand away, she guided it further up under her shirt. Excitement thrummed through him. She was giving him permission, even asking for him to touch her.

He stroked the bottom of her breast through her bra, wondering if she’d mind if he finagled her out of it. He would very much like for there to be less clothing between them. More, he wanted to see as well as feel her full curves, her soft skin. She made another contented sound as he stroked her, brushing his thumb across one of those alert nipples.

“We don’t have time for intercourse,” she said.

Did she sound disappointed by that, or was it only his imagination?

“I know.” He could feel the slight tilt of the shuttle as they angled toward some landing spot. “We could… make time later.” He returned to kneading her shoulder muscles and stroking the underside of her breast, hoping to convince her that making time would be a very good idea.

She laid her head back on his shoulder, and he returned to kissing her neck. He wouldn’t have minded if she’d turned her head toward him for a real kiss, but this access was already far more than he’d expected. She wriggled a little in his arms, arching slightly into his hand as he shifted from one breast to the other. It excited him far more than it should have—it wasn’t as if women hadn’t enjoyed his touch before. Maybe it was that she had been so reticent, so disinterested, and now she was appreciating his touch, was
aroused
by his touch. If he unbuckled her belt and slipped his hand between her legs, he was certain he would find her wet. Maybe she would even shudder with desire if he touched her there. She hadn’t responded to his comment about making time. Was she considering it?

She gripped his hand again, moving his fingers away from her breast. Disappointment ran through him—he didn’t want to stop touching her. He wanted to tug off all of her clothing and have full access.

Thinking she meant to push his hand away because they were landing, he started to withdraw, but instead she pushed his hand lower, down to her waistband. Did she want...?

“Heath,” she whispered, grinding back against his erection.

Whether intentional or inadvertent, he didn’t know, but it made him gasp. It was all he could do not to grab her hips, yank down her trousers, shove her against the bed, and dive into her. He took a deep breath, struggling to sublimate those fantasies, certain she wasn’t asking for that.

But she
was
asking for something.

He slid his finger over the fastener of her belt, and it fell open, her trousers hanging limply from her hips. He kept waiting for her to object, to tell him that he had misinterpreted her, but he kept kissing her neck, sucking and nibbling at her ear, wanting her to want him to touch her.

She wriggled against him, as if she wanted to feel his hard cock better. It was driving him crazy, making lurid thoughts flash through his mind, but then she distracted him by pushing his hand down. He could scarcely believe it as he slipped his fingers past the waistband of her underwear, the garment lacy and white with a pink bow that made him grin. Or maybe this whole experience was making him grin. His sexy scientist, the one everyone called frigid and cold, was writhing against him, wanting him to get her off.

He brushed his fingers over her mound, through her curls, and as he’d expected, found her warm and wet. She gasped as he slid past her seam and into her inviting heat. When he brushed her clitoris, she bucked against him, biting down on her lip. Trying to hold in further gasps? There were noises in the shuttle beyond the curtain, as Jamie and Ankari spoke, and the men speculated on what they would find in some canyon, but nobody was speaking so loudly that they wouldn’t hear someone cry out from the lab.

Even though he didn’t want their play to be discovered, that didn’t keep him from stroking her, teasing her. It also didn’t keep him from pressing his cock against her back, wanting so much to sink himself into her. But no, this was about her. He kept his focus on that nub of nerves down there, appreciating the way she was thrusting herself into his hand, certain she would want this again. Next time, she might let him drive into her, to thrust deep, hard. He felt himself rocking into her, but he couldn’t stop. He wanted so much to feel the friction of her around him. He sucked at her earlobe as he squeezed her clitoris lightly between his fingers.

She stiffened, her breasts thrust toward the ceiling, her head flung back further on his shoulder, and he could feel her molten core throbbing into his hand. All of the tension melted from her body. Her legs seemed to give out as she went limp against him, only his arm keeping her upright.

He wished his own body wasn’t wired like a grenade about to explode. As she breathed heavily in his arms, relaxing into him, he struggled to get control of himself, not to keep rocking into her, not to beg her to let him take her. He could be done quickly. There was time. He—