Intergalactic cruise director Gwen Thompson watches sleek young warrior Kealton James from the shadows, unable to stop from wondering what it would be like if such a man claimed her.
Kealton James ran through martial arts katas, whirling and striking as though he faced a deadly opponent, his naked body oiled with fresh sweat. Intergalactic cruise director Gwen Thompson, hiding her plump, primly dressed body in the shadows, watched him, wondering what it would be like to be with a man like him, a warrior much younger than herself.
Kealton’s shoulder-length blond hair caught back in a silver clip snapped against his body as he kicked out one muscled leg. He whirled, leaping high, his indigo blue eyes seeming to hold hers for a heart-stopping moment. But it couldn’t be. If he knew she was spying on him, surely he would stop, demand that she leave. It wasn’t as though they were friends—not exactly. She wasn’t sure what they were. Whenever she was around him, she wanted to get closer to him as much as she wanted to hide from him.
Reader Advisory: This book contains light BDSM and a brief scene of multiple ménage.
Publisher's Note: This book was previously released by another publisher. It has been re-edited and released under a new title.
General Release Date: 9th May 2014
The rumours are true—Kealton James works out in the nude.
Gwendolyn Thompson shifted deeper into a discreet pocket created by the ship’s bulkhead. Fortunately, a large tropical plant also served to screen her generous curves from view.
And quite a view it was. Despite the late hour—the designated sleep time—Kealton was running through katas, whirling and striking as though he faced a deadly opponent, his naked body oiled with fresh sweat. It was nothing like the easy-going martial arts instruction he typically offered passengers aboard the Loving Kindness cruise ship as it navigated a leisurely path between planets.
Kealton was mesmerising, his shoulder-length blond hair caught back in a silver clip snapping against his body as he kicked out one muscled leg. He whirled, leaping high, his indigo blue eyes seeming to hold hers for a heart-stopping moment. But it couldn’t be. If he knew she was here spying on him, surely he would stop, demand that she leave. It wasn’t as though they were friends—not exactly. She wasn’t sure what they were. It was as though, whenever she was around him, she lost her balance, her sea legs. She wanted to get closer to him as much as she wanted to avoid him.
He swung, sinewy back to her, each muscle articulated like a lean tiger about to spring. He moved as gracefully as the kelp on Seta III, undulating in the seabed. His hips, the backs of his thighs, his tight ass.
Gwen rubbed her palms against her own plumper thighs, perspiration breaking out on her upper lip. Just that morning they’d been sniping at each other in the cafeteria, but now she wanted to be underneath him, wanted all that sweaty ferocity inside her, pleasing her.
It made her feel helpless to be so…out of control, but he had the power to make her feel that way.
She’d watched Kealton covertly for months, long enough now to recognise some of the stances of his martial arts routine. Grasshopper, shifting into leopard, legs spread, then up to one side for snake. Feel the rise of dragon. Strike like tiger, at last coming to rest with xiau hung.
He hung his head, big chest moving rapidly as he reached up and yanked the clip from his hair so it tangled around his damp skin in ringlets. His nipples were beaded, surrounded by a chest so slick it looked as though it had been oiled by an appreciative hand. He ran fingers over his pectorals and down his abdomen, stopping only when he’d also touched his cock.
Gwen couldn’t keep a small sound from escaping. Shock? Want? She wasn’t sure. The man had absolutely no shame. He obviously liked to touch himself freely, and even though she knew he believed he was alone, it was almost as if he was performing for her, showing her where he wanted her to touch him.
When Kealton gave a mocking bow in her direction, Gwen’s heart leapt into her throat. Caught!
But as her tight shoulders fell, she knew that of course he had seen her. In the time she’d known this reserved man, he’d been like one of his ancient katana swords in the midst of their easy-going crew—sharp and lethal. He stood apart, and because of her past, Gwen had her suspicions about his personal history. So far she’d made little headway in confirming it, despite using some of her mother’s old contacts in the Alliance military.
According to his personnel file, before he’d come aboard the Loving Kindness, Kealton had worked on two other cruise ships. But it didn’t jive with the man who had been so aloof and watchful when he had first come aboard.
Gwen stepped from her hiding place, trying to keep her eyes on his face and not on his toned lower body and heavy cock. He was still stroking it, and it hardened, so she flushed, but she didn’t look away.
Damn him, he was trying to provoke her.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You weren’t intruding,” he said, his voice whisper-soft as a blade cutting through air. As always it made a strange sensation curl low in her spine, as if he’d grazed a finger over her backbone.
She stared into his dark eyes. He said nothing, waiting, so she was aware of her pulse beating a nervous tattoo in her ears. It occurred to her that when they’d argued, she’d been as much at fault as he was. She knew it was because she was afraid that if she gave herself a moment to simply look at the man, she’d invite him back to her cabin, break her own rules about getting involved with fellow crew members.
Kealton was deep waters. A smart woman kept her distance or risked being pulled under.
She cleared her throat. “I came to discuss the next rotation of duties, but when I opened the door to your, uh—”
“Dojo. I call this my dojo.”
She blinked. Kealton was nothing like Mr Wallington, their previous martial arts instructor. That former employee had never bothered to give a name to the small studio covered with woven mats—but neither had he haunted her thoughts the way enigmatic Kealton did. “Right. You were”—she held his look with an effort—“busy, and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“More like when you walked in and found me doing katas in the nude, it was too late to politely retreat to safer waters,” he said, and his lips quirked. He moved closer, put one lean arm against the wall so that she could smell the hot musk from his workout, see a line of sweat running down his chest. “Isn’t this the time you usually start clawing at me? Let’s see, at breakfast rotation it was over my lack of support for the finger painting contest running on D Deck this week.”
“Come on. You know it wasn’t finger painting.” Her lips quirked as well. “It was painting murals with acrylics.”
“Right.”
“It’s always good when the crew participate.”
“I wasn’t interested. But I think we both know the real reason you like to give me a hard time.”
“You scare me.”
“I scare you.”
Jan Irving has worked in all kinds of creative fields, from painting silk to making porcelain ceramics, to interior design, but writing was always her passion.
She feels you can't fully understand characters until you follow their journey through a story world. Many kinds of worlds interest her, fantasy, historical, science fiction and suspense—but all have one thing in common, people finding a way to live together—in the most emotional and erotic fashion possible, of course!
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