Savor Me Slowly (Alien Huntress 3)

Until then, he was staying put.

At least he’d gotten a few answers. The Delenseans had wanted revenge, and he knew there were other species out there that had been destroyed by the Schön. Would the people of Earth soon have to take a number to exact their own revenge?

Le’Ace could have told you more. Shoulda been nicer to her. Idiot.

No, he thought in the next instant. She didn’t want him nice. He’d been nice to her, polite as a Sunday school teacher, but she’d complained. She wanted him to be himself, he realized. She wanted the sarcasm, insults, perverted humor, and all.

If he would have acted the way his instincts demanded, she might have slipped and accidentally revealed a secret.

He almost snorted. To be honest, there was no way he would have noticed if she’d slipped. Hell, he wouldn’t have noticed if she’d presented a slide show with charts and diagrams outlining everything he wanted to know. When he looked at her, all he heard was the pounding of his heartbeat. When he looked at her, all he saw was luscious female.

All he wanted was sex.

Today she had strawberry-blonde hair, highlighted by flecks of amber and flaxen. The multihued tresses suited her to perfection. They were long with a hint of curl, cascading like a radiant waterfall. A few times, he’d almost reached out and fisted them, desperate to know if they were real or another wig. He suspected real, and that thrilled him.

“Take off the wig,” he’d once told her. “I want to see the blonde.”

“That wasn’t my natural hair, either,” she’d replied.

“Are you a redhead?”

“No.”

He hadn’t understood at the time, had thought she was merely being evasive. Her answers now made sense. She wasn’t a redhead, blonde, or brunette. She was a mix of all three colors.

That thick mane would look amazing spread over his pillow.

She would look amazing.

A wave of desire swept through him, blistering. She’d removed the contacts. Her eyes were hazel, as he’d suspected, a breathtaking mix of green and golden brown. His wife’s freckles had been washed away, leaving smooth, pale skin. Lickable, like cream. You thought that about the freckles.

He thought that way about all of her.

Jaxon scowled. I don’t even like her, yet I’m panting for her. She was fire and she was ice. She was determination and she was uncertainty. She was distant, yet sometimes she gazed at him as if she wanted to jump straight into his skin. Those times, she radiated so much vulnerability he was staggered.

Those times, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her close.

How would she have reacted if he’d tried? She didn’t seem to like being touched, had only allowed it three times. Once in the cell, once when they’d lain in bed together, and once on the bars. None of those touches had been tentative or truly sexual in nature. Yet, none had been confident, either. She’d stroked his face, his chest; held him and nothing more.

She’d even flinched the few times he’d tried for more.

His scowl eased into a frown. Why hadn’t she attempted to use sex as leverage? He liked to think otherwise, but he might have caved, might have told her everything if she’d been sliding down his swollen shaft. To have all of her energy, all of her intense focus over him, under him…sweet Jesus. She had to know she weakened his resolve.

Physically, everything about her appeared tailor-made for sex, for him, which made resisting her mentally difficult. She walked into a room and his blood heated, searing and scorching everything in its path. All he thought about anymore was stroking her, tasting her. Fucking her. Hard and hot and dirty, for hours and hours, in every way she would allow. Maybe some ways she’d need coaxing.

The blows to his head, on the heels of Le’Ace’s mind warp, must have seriously screwed with his intelligence level. Sitting here, thinking like this, wasn’t good. He needed to mend the damage he’d done to their relationship instead of lusting after her. Mending it was the only way to get answers.

Grim, he forced his legs into action. Slow, steady. The muscles were stiff and sore; his left ankle was a mass of agony and his right arm felt as if it had been wired straight into an electrical socket in hell, but he didn’t allow himself to give up. Soon, sweat poured down his chest and back in tiny rivers.

When he reached the end of the bars, he twisted and let himself fall. His ass thumped into the wheelchair and jostled his still-healing ribs, and for a moment he lost his breath. A surge of dizziness assaulted him.

Infirmity sucked major ass.

Grinding his teeth, he propped his elbows on the handles and allowed his head to drop into his upraised palms. If she wouldn’t try to seduce him, perhaps he should try to seduce her.

Women softened after sex, became emotionally entangled. At least, that’s what he told himself to rationalize taking an enemy to bed so eagerly. God, I need help.

“Le’Ace,” he called, wheeling himself around. A minute ticked by, and there was no response. “Le’Ace.”

Again, no answer.

“Le’Ace!” Nothing. “Tabitha.” Nothing. “Mishka.” The moment he spoke her real first name, he blinked, stilled. Mishka. Delicious, sinful, and mysterious, like the woman herself. The name rolled perfectly from his tongue, something to savor in the dark of night. “Mishka.”

Yet again, no answer.

Ignoring him for spite? Cathy had played that game several times over their year-long association. Perversely, he’d enjoyed the quiet and hadn’t tried to soothe her. He didn’t feel the same about Le’Ace. He wanted her in front of him, and he wanted her talking. For answers, he assured himself.

Liar. Scowling, Jaxon wheeled his chair down the hall.

CHAPTER 6

An enzyme shower required less than three minutes. Le’Ace remained in the stall for ten, the cool mist seeping past her skin and scrubbing her inside and out. But no matter how long she stayed there, no matter how clean she washed, she would feel dirty. Always dirty. That never changed.

Didn’t help that she’d left Jaxon in the living room only to receive a call from her boss, Estap. Another job already awaited her. Something quick and easy, she’d been told. Yeah. Right. For the past three nights, one of the Schön had been spotted inside a bar downtown; tonight, she was to enter that bar and wait for him. If he showed up, she was to catch his attention and engage him in conversation.

At least she hadn’t been ordered to sleep with him. Yet.

Jaxon wanted nothing to do with her, yet she’d hoped to spend the evening with him. He might have dismissed her, but she was still drawn to him, craved him. Just being near him was preferable to anything else.