Andromeda O’Keefe choked. The aspirating tube had retracted, and she was drowning.
“You’re coming out of suspension too quickly,” a deep voice, disembodied, came from beyond her gel-filled capsule.
She opened hers eyes, blinking against the light shining down through the clear hatch of her chamber, and met a golden-eyed gaze. She recognized him instantly. Her prisoner was free!
She fought the urge to inhale more of the suspension gel and searched with her hands for the hood latch inside her chamber.
Before her hand connected with the latch, the panel popped, and the dark-haired man tossed back the hatch and reached inside. A large, rough-skinned hand slid beneath her shoulders, another beneath her thighs, and he lifted her easily from her warm cocoon to the cooler air on the bridge of her ship.
Andromeda sucked in air and gagged. He knelt to lay her on the floor. Once her chest quieted, she realized her predicament. She was naked and wet, lying on her back with her prisoner, Khalim Padja, also naked, and standing over her. He held out his hand, palm up. Not an offer of aid. His implacable expression demanded she accept.
As she didn’t have a choice, she laid her hand in his, and he drew her up. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her from disuse after her slumber. He’d obviously been free longer for he seemed to suffer no such weakness, and he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close.
Still coated with a thin film of suspension gel, her body aligned with his from breast to hip. Disturbingly, her mind recognized they fit together well—just as they had in her dreams. Her body seemed just as accustomed to his embrace, and she found herself instantly, embarrassingly, aroused. Would he notice how tightly her nipples puckered against his chest? She tilted back her head to gauge his reaction.
A muscle in his jaw flexed, and his nostrils flared. The heat in his golden gaze seared her. He’d worn the same expression in her dreams each time he’d seduced her. Oh God! How could she have known what he looked like when aroused, unless they really had shared those experiences? She shuddered, fear and desire warring inside her body and mind.
He reached a hand toward her face, and she flinched.
“First, we bathe.” He smoothed back the strands of hair sticking to her cheek. “Then we’ll talk.”
Even his deep, rumbling voice was the same. With her heart pounding from the realization she was at the mercy of a murderer, Andromeda’s mind raced. “The shower stall is in my quarters.” She backed away from his hold. “I’ll show you.” Turning, she led the way down a narrow passage to her small, Spartan room.
If she could get him inside the shower first and the door automatically entrapped him, she might have time to reach the weapons in the drawer beneath her bed. She couldn’t hope to overpower a warrior without armament.
Conscious of the tall, muscular body following a step behind her, she sighed with relief when she reached her room. She’d forgotten how small it was, until she realized he would have to pass between her narrow bed and the storage cabinets to reach the shower—and she blocked the way.
She stopped in front of the shower, pressed the button to open the stall, and then looked over her shoulder. “If you’ll step inside…”
“After you,” he said, his gaze boring into hers.
Andromeda pressed her lips together in frustration and nodded, then stepped inside, silently cursing. She hoped he wouldn’t poke around her things and find her cache of weapons while she bathed.
She needn’t have worried. Her breath caught on a gasp when he joined her inside the stall, and the door slid shut.
Chapter Two
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Khalim enjoyed his woman’s discomfort. Her back stiffened, almost as quickly as her nipples had when they’d grazed his chest. More intriguing, her shapely bottom quivered where his erection pressed against her. He’d conditioned her body well to accept the forced intimacy.
He reached over her shoulder and pressed the button to start the shower, having already acquainted himself with the functions of most of the conveniences and machinery aboard her ship. The nozzles erupted with a soft misting of warm water all around them.
“Is this really necessary?” she asked, her voice sounding strained.
“I can’t have you getting into mischief. For the time being, we’ll do everything together.” His lips curved when her body stiffened further and her shoulders rose and fell with her angry breaths.
“The password. You’ve been after that all along,” she snapped.
He detected an underlying hurt. Perhaps triggered by a previous betrayal…? He filed that knowledge away. “And you,” he replied, infusing silk and steel into his voice. “I’ve been after you, as well.” He tapped the soap dispenser, and lather joined the water jetting from all nozzles, except those aimed at their heads.