He nodded and finished discussing with Push the various mechanical components that concerned him, while Quin listened in with interest.
Heavens. She shifted from one foot to the other, the heat in her cheeks receding rapidly, leaving behind an intense feeling of foolishness. He'd been referring to his Earth vehicle the entire time, the noisy, primitive, fossil fuel-burning Earth curiosity he stored in the cargo bay and rode during rare hours of free time. He hadn't been talking about— or thinking about— her. Never around any man had she acted like such a self-centered, vacuous idiot.
She collected her wits. "I'm going to the market."
"I'll give you a lift," Ian said.
She went over his statement in her mind. Reasonably certain that there were no double meanings hidden within, she asked hopefully, "On the two-wheeled Earth transport?"
"If you don't mind riding with me."
Heavens, no. Her shopping excursion was looking better with every passing minute. "Not at all," she said.
Ian followed her into the corridor leading to the forward entry hatch. "You'll need a helmet and jacket."
Once dressed in the leather garment he provided her, she carried his extra helmet to the gangway. At the bottom stood the transport— the Harley— a hulking example of primitive machinery propped upright on a metal leg. Glinting silver and black, the transport seemed to bring ancient history to life.
Anticipation pulsed through her. "What a glorious day," she said, inhaling the scents of sun-warmed leather and fossil fuel, grease and dusty, dry dirt.
As Ian tugged on his gloves, she donned her helmet and lowered the visor after only a few seconds of fumbling.
Ian boarded first, holding the vehicle steady with his feet as she threw her leg over the seat and hopped on behind him, sliding about a bit on her rear until she felt centered on the wide saddle.
He peeked over one broad, leather-clad shoulder. "Put your arms around me and hold on tight."
Tentatively she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her pulse sped up, this time because of their physical closeness rather than the anticipation of the ride.
"Ready?" he asked.
She tightened her arms around him. "Ready."
The thunder of the vehicle's engine startled her. She hugged him tighter and the side of her helmet brushed against his back. Then they lurched forward, jerked, stopped.
Ian swore. "Damned clutch," he muttered in nearly unintelligible English.
She lifted her head. "Has the vehicle malfunctioned?"
"Hold on a moment."
Happy to comply, she settled against his back, her hands flat on his belly. His stomach muscles flexed, pushing at her palms as he shifted his body weight to adjust something on the transport's handlebars.
Finally he asked once more, "Ready?"
"Ready," she murmured in bliss.
Smoothly the motorcycle rolled forward, crunching over the dirt-packed landing pad and onto the adjacent wide, flat market road used by local ground and hover cars. But the thoroughfare was empty, only sunshine and trees before them.
When they reached the market, Ian slowed the "hog," as he called it. "Must we stop so soon?" Tee'ah pleaded. "Can we not ride for a bit more?"
He laughed with abandon. "I think you know the answer to that question, Miss Tee." The nickname gave her an incredible rush of pleasure.
Ian leaned forward as they accelerated away from the market, taking a left turn onto a narrower road she didn't know existed. It headed out toward an area where an old forest fire had turned the woods into grassland that reminded her poignantly of her home, Mistraal. But her homesickness soon dissolved in the sheer joy of the ride.
He was a strong, athletic cyclist. When he leaned into a turn, she moved with him, awkwardly at first, and then with increasing confidence. Now she understood why he often left the ship at dawn to experience this. It was like flying. No, better than flying— it was as if she'd soared skyward and became part of the wind itself. She whooped in joy.
The rush of air drowned out her voice. But Ian's gloved hand found her thigh and gave her a gentle squeeze. I feel the same. As sure as she breathed, she knew he'd spoken those words with his touch. She wanted to cover his fingers with hers, hand over glove, but she didn't dare let go of his waist to do so.
As they came around a wide bend in the road, a herd of Tromjha steers ambled off a pasture and into their path. Ian slowed, but kept driving forward. The mass of hulking bodies continued to spill onto the road, passing left to right.
Breathless, she warned, "Ian, watch out for the cattle."
"You, who flew through an asteroid field— by hand— are concerned about a few furry steers?"
She risked letting go to raise her visor, grabbing hold of his jacket with her other hand. "We're not going to ride through the herd… are we?"
"Don't you like moo-moos?"
"Moo-moos?"
He chuckled. "That's what we call them on Earth. Cows. They look almost the same. Watch out, moo-moos," he called. "Or my accomplice here will buy one of you for our dinner."
As they neared the trihorned cattle, dust rose, obliterating the path ahead. "How can you see?" Tee'ah demanded, then shrieked when they narrowly missed a pair of the beasts. "You can't see!"
"Who says I need to see? I can tell by your tugs on my jacket whether I'm going to crash into something. Now hang on," he said, mimicking the warning she'd uttered the day they had lost the autoflier.
She half screamed, half laughed as Ian expertly wove in and out of the bulky white and brown bodies. Finally they cleared the herd.
"That was some kind of driving," she said, mimicking his Earth-accented Basic.
"The appropriate response would be, It was nothing."
She didn't have to see his face to know he was grinning.
They left the musty scent of dust and manure behind them. Ian leaned forward, accelerating faster than before. Her hair fluttered in the wind as Ian careened around a dizzying curve, blurring the agrarian landscape. Exhilarated, she threw her head back and laughed with abandon. The scenery, Ian's company, and her freedom made it easy to believe that she'd escaped her old life for good.
A particularly pretty meadow appeared in the distance. Ian slowed and veered off the road. With a hissing spray of gravel he came to a halt. At first all she heard was the ringing in her ears when he cut off the engine. Then the chirps of crick-burrs and the drowsy buzzing of insects punctuated the silence. At the far end of the meadow a pond sparkled in the light of Grüma's white-dwarf sun.
She followed Ian's lead and tugged off her helmet. A faint breeze teased the fuzzy, overprocessed ends of her hair, reddish gold roots deepening to brown-green ends. She ran her fingers through her locks, too invigorated to care if they stood on end. She felt alive, almost painfully so, as if every neuron in her body had wrenched free of a lifelong slumber. You've waited your entire life for this.
She wasn't a loner at heart; her dreams of freedom always included an imagined future in which she shared adventures with a man she loved. Now she wondered if that man might turn out to be Ian Stone.
He dismounted and held out his hands. She grabbed them and swung her leg over the seat. Legs trembling, she gazed up at him. "You enjoyed the ride," he said, his eyes sparkling.
She sighed. "Very much."
He pulled his hands from hers reluctantly, as if he craved physical contact as much as she did, but wanted to hold back from engaging in it. In feet, most of the time he avoided being alone with her. He was worried about the repercussions of having a relationship with an employee, she reasoned. But surely such liaisons happened all the time in the frontier. Nothing need hold them apart here.
Her heart thudded in her throat as she raised both hands, flattening them on his chest. "That was wonderful, glorious; I can't begin to describe it." She took a step forward. He stepped back, as if trying to preserve the distance between them, but his boot heel caught on the thick, damp grass, and he stumbled backward. Momentum carried her forward and she landed on top of him, one knee wedged between his legs, his chest cushioning her breasts.
Damp, fragrant grass formed a green halo around them, muting the sunshine and accentuating the knowledge that she and Ian were completely alone in an isolated meadow. The awareness of his muscular body, pressed so firmly to hers, took her breath away. But it was the astonishment and shared wonder in his beautiful eyes that captured her heart. With a soft sigh, she leaned over him to claim the kiss denied her since that magical night in the woods.
Closing her eyes, she buried her fingers in his silky hair. His lips were closed but, when she ran her tongue along the seam between them, they parted. Uncertainly, then with increasing eagerness, she stroked his tongue with hers.
He didn't respond for several shocked seconds. Then, as if something inside him gave way, he made a needy groan and splayed one hand behind her head, pressing her close to him. He kissed her deeply, hungrily, his fervor matching her own. She abandoned herself to pure sensation: his scent, his hot, slick mouth, the flexing of his firm, muscled legs twined with hers, and his warm fingertips subtly exploring her body. The feelings he evoked in her were powerfully erotic, but the pulsing heat between her thighs reminded her that she wanted more from him, much more.
As if he'd heard her silent wish he rolled her onto her back in the soft grass. Passion scorched through her as his palm glided up her hip to her ribs, stopping frustratingly short of caressing her breast. With mere kisses, the pleasure he gave her was incredible, nothing like what she'd imagined from all she'd read and had been told by the sophisticated instructors who'd seen to her explicit, Vash Nadah— repaired sexual education. But whatever she might lack in actual application skills, she was determined to make up for with sheer enthusiasm.
Eagerly she reached for the zipper on Ian's coat and yanked it down to his waist.
Chapter Thirteen
Two small, strong hands sliding under his leather jacket jolted Ian back to reality. What the hell was he doing? Exactly what you swore you wouldn't. But what had he thought would happen if he stopped in an isolated meadow that screamed of picnics-for-two and romantic interludes, with a fun, sexy woman who was not only a fantastic pilot, but gorgeous, too, despite her totally bizarre hair?
He tore his mouth from hers. Hands flat on the cool grass, he raised himself over her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her flushed face alive with passion as she grabbed his collar, tugging him back down to her. As their lips met, white-hot desire blazed through him. Ian tried to fight back He wanted her, but without the possibility of a future together, he couldn't have Tee. He would not repeat the sins of his father: physical intimacy without emotional loyalty. The only solution was to demonstrate the restraint expected of a Vash prince.
But damn if she didn't blow apart his best intentions.
The wet pointed tip of her tongue was teasing, tempting. "Come on, Ian," she coaxed, her fingers playing in his hair. "Kiss me again." She seemed so different… so carefree out here, alone with him.
It's only kissing, he reasoned, using logic he didn't want to examine too closely. They could kiss, but no more. Call it a line in the sand, he thought. One he simply wouldn't cross…
Hungrily, he took her mouth. She uttered a muffled cry and locked her hands behind his head, kissing him back with an indescribable mix of eagerness and uncertainty, knowledge and unpracticed innocence. She felt good. Too good. He wanted to touch her, to taste her everywhere; he wanted to feel the tight, liquid heat of being inside her. But when her splayed hands slid from his chest to his abs and under the waistband of his jeans, he broke off the embrace with an effort that nearly killed him.
The line… don't cross it.
Tee regarded him with perceptive golden eyes. "Well?" she asked breathlessly.
He exhaled. "Wow."
Her low, husky laugh revealed her pleasure at his comment. "Better than the Harley ride, yes?"
"No contest." He closed his eyes as she swept kisses along his jaw. "But we can't do this."
"Really?" Her attention lazily shifted from his eyes to his mouth. "What do you call that, then— what we just did?"
"Playing with fire." He pushed himself up, leaving Tee lying on the trampled grass. Sitting next to her, he drew one leg up to his chest and balanced a forearm on his knee. "Which everyone knows is not a good idea."
"I see." She rolled onto her side, suddenly engrossed in a blade of grass which she twirled between her slender fingers. "You have a woman, then. I should have— "
"No, Tee, it's not that. There's no one else."
She dropped the blade of grass, came up on her knees, and flung her arms over his shoulders. "Good," she said against his lips. "I could not tolerate anyone who was unfaithful to a mate. Now, where were we?" she asked, tracing her fingertip over his mouth. He caught her hand and pressed his lips to her damp palm, then pulled her into his lap. She shifted in his arms, her supple body molding to his.
He needed to stop this. Now. Get up and walk back to the Harley. But Tee was to his soul like an open window was to a long-sealed musty room. The lightness of spirit she evoked in him was addictive. As a boy, he'd taken it upon himself to make his mother's life as easy as possible, to compensate for the pain his father had caused her. No one had asked him to; he'd simply acted out of an inner, driving sense of decency. Consequently, his life for so long had been serious, heavily laden with responsibility, self-imposed and otherwise.
And his future promised more of the same. But this wasn't a crime, doing something for the fun and the pleasure of it! He might as well while he still could. And she definitely seemed to want it as much as he did.
It's only kissing.
"We were doing this," he said and rolled her beneath him. He nuzzled her ear, nibbled the velvety lobe. She smelled like green grass and soap. They kissed again, sweet and light, caressing each other for what seemed like hours. The affection between them flowed so easily, so naturally. It was as if they'd known each other all their lives. How was that possible? he found himself wondering.