Stripper: The Fringe, Book 4 (13 page)

After checking the com again, and making sure his gear would be ready at a moment’s notice, Duster shut off the lights and followed her into bed.

Lying on his back, he looked up at the ceiling. The amber running lights turned the fabric swaths interesting colors. Her shaky breaths rustled the covers against his body, and the heavy, musky scent of her filled his nose with memories of her body twined around his in the dark of the
Damn You
hallways.

Instantly, painfully hard, he uttered a low grumble. “Come here.”

After a long moment where he wondered if she would obey, Diane turned over and slid closer. She moved with great care, clearly reluctant to come near him, and he didn’t blame her.

“All the way over here. Put your head here.” Duster touched his chest. When she hesitated, he snaked his arm around her and tugged her against him.

Shaking, she awkwardly pressed her body along his, then put her head on his chest. When he angled her leg up and his erection touched her thigh, she squeaked. Tight as a bowstring, she quivered away like she had seven years ago. Malicious glee filled him at her fear, but just as suddenly, a crushing guilt made him cup her head, stroke her thick hair and murmur, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Diane let out a slow breath that warmed and tickled his chest, yet she was still tense.

“I want to hold you.” Duster ran his fingers soothingly through her hair and along her back. “Just hold you and feel you next to me. No more than that.” He bit off the words that came unbidden to him that she was his wife and he hadn’t truly held her in seven years. “Relax, Diane. Scott is right outside the door. I’m not going to demand you perform your wifely duties.”

“Yet.” Her breath smelled of the cinnamon toothpaste she favored.

“That remains to be seen. For the moment, I want to hold you, but not when you’re shaking with fear.”

Taking a deep breath, Diane curled herself to the length of his body but kept her legs primly closed. “If I’m afraid, it’s because you’ve done your best to make me so.”

“I know.” Running his hand down her back to grasp her bottom, he pressed her fully against his hip. “I’m angry. I’m doing my best.”

“You’re hard.”

“Trust me, I know. I can’t help it. Despite your fear, I’ll bet you’re wet. There’s no question that we excite each other. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“So there is that. We have mutual attraction. Physically, we know we work very well together.”

Diane nodded against his chest.

“That’s not enough for me,” Duster said. “It wasn’t seven years ago, and it isn’t now. Agreed?”

“What are you outlining here, Duster? The terms of my surrender?”

“The terms of our truce. Keep in mind that my overriding concern is Scott.”

“Agreed.” Diane relaxed a bit more against him.

“I don’t trust you. You know I have every right not to. Agreed?”

“No.”

“Diane.”

“Fine. Yes. I agree that you don’t trust me, but I don’t think you have every right not to.”

“Okay. I can compromise. I don’t trust you. Period. I have never hurt you. You know I never would.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“I guess I deserve that. But do you honestly think I will beat you or rape you?”

Softly, Diane said, “Repeatedly, you’ve forced your way between my legs.”

“I know. I can’t seem to stop myself. Having you below me feels good.” Duster fought down an urge to roll her over and rock himself against the pleasure of her body, because now there would be no barriers between them. Determined, he simply enjoyed feeling her touch as they quietly came to terms. “The way you look, the way you feel, the way you smell—you excite me—physically, Diane. Your eyes, your hair, the very scent of your body… I can’t help it. But I wouldn’t force myself on you. Even though, believe me, there is a part of me that wants to.”

“Why?”

“Why would or wouldn’t I?” Duster turned so they faced each other. He snuggled his body against hers, pressed her close, then tilted her face up to his.

“Why would you?”

“Because I’m hard, and you’re soft and wet.” Diane shuddered, and he stroked his hands along her. “I know just how good it feels to wrap you around me.” Swallowing down the voice that told him to shut up, he added, “Seven years is a long time to be celibate, and the anger I feel makes me want to subdue you for my needs. I’m stronger than you and know that I could. I want to because I feel justified. That you owe me.”

Clearly surprised by his honesty, Diane blinked rapidly as she focused her dilated eyes on him in the amber-lit dark. “I guess I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“That’s why I won’t.” Cupping her face, kissing her forehead, Duster sighed as he ran his fingers through her hair and down her body. “Because I know you’d let me. You feel obligated. Like you owe me.”

“It’s more than that.”

“I know. You want me in the exact same way I want you. You couldn’t take me by force, but you could take me by seduction. You did once. You very well could again.”

“I never… It wasn’t—”

“You slept with me to manipulate me into doing your bidding. And I did.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Diane pulled back so she could see him better. “I wanted you in a most primal way. I was instinctively driven toward a man who was strong enough to protect me and any children we would make.”

“A man who could help you achieve your goal.”

“Duster, that wasn’t the only drive in my head. You make me sound like a robot without a soul.”

“I don’t mean to. I get what you were dealing with as a member of Network Thirteen. But you didn’t have to actually have sex with me. The promise of it would have been enough.” God, he would have followed her anywhere just for a kiss. And in that moment, he realized that a lot of his anger at her was simply fear that he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

“I didn’t just have sex with you. To use your word, I mated with you. If you ask me if I regret that choice, ultimately regret what I did, I would say no. Because Scott came of it. To call that moment with you wrong, I’d have to call him wrong. And he’s not.”

“No, he’s not. Scott is amazing.” Duster took a deep breath and pressed his forehead against Diane’s. He looked so deeply into her eyes she held her breath as if waiting for his verdict. “Scott makes the last seven years of my life meaningful.”

“How?”

“I’ve spent those years building a world that I would actually want to raise children in. Windmere is more my vision than Michael’s.”

Chapter Nine

“Tell me about Windmere.” Relaxing somewhat, Diane peered into Duster’s eyes in the semi-dark. They’d agreed to leave the running lights on in case Scott awoke in the night, but the dim lighting also gave their bedroom a warm glow. As angry as she was that Duster had tricked her into getting back on the ship, she understood why he’d done it. And as sad as she was that they hadn’t resolved much between them, she thought they were closer now than they had been before. Perhaps if they got everything out on the table, they could finally move forward. More than anything, she wanted to have the kind of life Duster described. A real home wouldn’t just be a boon for Scott, but for her and Duster too.

“Not much to tell.” Duster rolled to his back, curling her with him.

Melting, Diane let herself mesh against him. Even though he was fully aroused, he seemed to accept it, then ignore it as they spoke quietly. The moment reminded her of how he’d been seven years ago after sex, cuddling her in the dark, even if he was pressed for time.

“Overlord takes the credit while you do the work?”

“In a way, I guess. Michael is like the lead singer of a band. If the group is good, you never pay much attention to them, because your attention is all on that front man.”

“That doesn’t bother you?” Diane asked.

“What? That I’m not known far and wide? Subjected to tales that paint me as a hero or a villain or a twisted combination of both? Gee, let me think. Nope, don’t need to. No thanks. I wouldn’t trade places with Michael for all the riches in the Void. If my job is thankless, his job is endlessly scrutinized. By everyone
and
their dog. Truth time, Diane. Would you want his job?”

After a brief moment of consideration, she said, “Not a chance.”

“Didn’t think so.” Duster kissed her head. “No matter what he does, Michael pisses someone off. IWOG consumers, WAG citizens or Fringe players. Every path he takes has not only a lady but a tiger. He’s pretty much screwed no matter what he does. I don’t have to suffer that.”

“Because no one in the Void knows about you.”

“Except you.”

“And your son.”

“Our son.”

Diane swallowed hard. It meant a great deal to her that Duster had said that. “Our son,” she agreed.

Duster lifted up her long hair and draped it across his chest, then sifted his fingers through the strands. Diane found this quiet time of lying together, touching and talking, was far more intimate than if they’d just had sex. In a curious way, it felt as if they’d already made love and were now basking in the afterglow.

“Does Scott know about Overlord and Windmere?”

“Of course.” Diane stroked her fingers over the whorl of hair around Duster’s bellybutton. “Scott probably knows more stories about Overlord than the both of us combined. Far more than I care for him to even think about. But Scott’s curious. When he hears something, he wants to investigate.”

“Such as?”

“One night, not too long ago, Scott heard that Overlord was going to make an address from Windmere about the Tyaa plague. All night, Scott kept getting up to check. I didn’t hear him, because he was treading so softly to the lone Net channel. Sheldon heard him, though, when at around five in the morning, he became frustrated, and rather than sneaking across the floor, he stomped across it.”

“Because it wasn’t true. Michael has never addressed an audience. Live or Net.”

“Of course not. You and I both know that because no one knows what he looks like. Michael would no more appear in the public media eye than he would take a target and pin it to his chest. But Scott didn’t
know
that. Not the way you and I know it.”

“Michael prefers to have those he wishes to speak with brought before him. In his office. Usually while he sits smugly on top of his desk, sipping a drink, as said supplicant stands in chains.”

“I’m not surprised.” Diane’s memory of Michael was of a ruthless man with a giant ego who drank too much. But as Overlord, he was as Duster had said, hero to some, villain to others. Still, she had to give the man his due for building and keeping the only independent world in the Void. “Michael obviously knows how to run his empire. Thing is, the rumor—Scott believed it. He waited all night to finally see this legendary man, and he was livid that he’d been tricked.”

After a very long pause, Duster whispered, “You could have sold a description of him at any time.”

“I could have, but I didn’t.”

“Why? Being a single mother, you must have needed money.”

“I didn’t need it that badly.” Diane had hated Michael on sight, and turning on him would have pleased her, but not at the potential price of Duster’s life. “I didn’t know if you were with him. If you were, I wanted you to be safe.”

Duster leaned close as if to kiss her, but he stopped just the barest bit from her mouth. A kiss in this moment would be almost like forgiveness, and she waited breathlessly for him to complete the motion.

“I have to check the ship.” Duster slipped from bed, pulled on his pants and left the bedroom. Padding his way to the bridge, he navigated by following the running lights. A part of him wanted to forgive Diane because he understood why she did what she did. But the hurt inside his heart still lingered.

“And there’s no guarantee she won’t betray me again.” Duster settled himself to the pilot’s chair and checked the dash and the upgraded sensors he’d had installed. Everything was ticking along beautifully. Windmere was now only half a day away. Close enough to chat. After checking the time differential, he realized he was calling at a good time to catch Michael in his office.

Duster closed off the bridge so he wouldn’t awaken Scott and placed a scrambled Tasher call to Windmere. Morning would just be hitting the main compound by his calculation. To his shock and dismay, Mary answered. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Mary seemed just as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

Mary’s velvet-brown eyes went wide, then narrowed with suspicion. “Duster?”

“It’s me, Mary.” Just about the last thing Duster wanted to do was talk to Mary. “I need to talk to Michael.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Would you get him?”

“Sounds like you’re in a hurry.” Mary leaned back in her chair, placing her feet on the op-pan. She slowly crossed her funky purple boots in his face, then took a long drink of what looked like orange juice. “I hate hurried folk. They can be so damn rude.”

Mary had ratcheted up her country-simple accent while slowing her pace down considerably. Mary did this to deliberately antagonize him. And it worked. But as much as he wanted to snarl at her, he didn’t.