Beyond Varallan by S. L. Viehl Read Free Book Online

backing out now. Every nerve ending in my body was demanding some attention. What a relief not to have to think about it. I slipped my hand from his and rose from the table.
    “When can I see you again?” he asked me as he stood.
    He needed an appointment? Unmanageable demands surged inside me, overriding what was left of my usual caution. “Come back to my quarters with me. Now.”
    I don’t know who was more shocked. Reever, who had admitted he wanted me, or me, the amateur seductress. I tried not to ruin my suave moment by taking back my offer the moment it left my lips.
    Duncan looked like I just kicked him where it hurts Terran males the most. His pupils enlarged. When he got the words out, they were raspy. “You are sure?”
    Did I really have that kind of effect on him? “No.” I held out my hand. I thought that was better than shrugging off a corner of my tunic and fluttering my eyelashes. “Come on.”
    We walked back to level nine and stopped at my quarters. Before I could open the door panel, he took my shoulders and turned me around. I stared at the collar of his tunic, and bit into my lower lip.
    “Cherijo. Don’t be afraid of me.”
    Did I want to have sex with him? Yes. Did I want him to play the protective male calming the hysterical, near-virginal female? No. I had some pride left. Somewhere. Not to mention enough heat streaking through my vessels to melt an infuser tube.
    “I’m not afraid of you.” I hauled him by the arm into my rooms. Jenner greeted us with a casual yowl as he scampered out into the corridor. I adjusted the lighting, then leaned against the wall panel for a moment, dizzy with need.
    This was wrong. Wrong . I needed a distraction. A delay tactic. My head examined. Why was I doing this? It was him, definitely him. Every time Reever came near me, every nerve ending went on full alert. What could I do to keep him away until my head cleared…? My prep unit! “Would you like something to eat? Drink?”
    “We just had a meal.”
    Okay, maybe my disc collection would buy me some time until I got my libido back under control. “Do you like Terran historical music?”
    He was right behind me. “I have no preferences,” he replied, and moved closer.
    “What about archaic jazz?”
    “I’ve never heard any.” Each word puffed a breath against the nape of my neck.
    I swallowed a groan. “Sit down. Jazz is the only audio art form ever produced on Terra.” I selected a disc. “We’ll start with Miles Davis. He played the trumpet like an angel.”
    He didn’t sit down. He started touching my hair. “Angels are characters in religious mythology.”
    I let myself enjoy the feeling of his fingers against my scalp. “Wait until you hear Miles. You might change your mind.” Davis’s subtle syncopation colored the air with cool, dark sound. Reever's hand gripped my waist. No, don't do this, I thought, and swiftly turned to my prep console. “Would you like a drink?”
    “No”—he started coming at me again—“thank you.”
    “Well, I could use a server of tea.” He knew I was stalling and knew I knew he knew. My thought patterns were beginning to degrade. Fast. “Did you know on Joren they brew some varieties of saltwater vegetation and—”
    “Cherijo.” His hands touched me again. This close, I could smell him. Clean, masculine, familiar. Human. “Calm yourself.”
    There wasn’t a system in my body that was functioning normally. “I'm calm.”
    “I am not,” he said. I could feel his heartbeat accelerating just above my left shoulder blade.
    “You, Reever?” Humor was my last resort. Panting ruined the effect, though. “You’ll ruin your reputation.”
    Too late. His hands bracketed my wrists. “Link with me.”
    “Are you sure about the drink?” Frantic to prolong the inevitable, I began babbling. “You haven’t tried my Terran blend. Do you like rosehips and camomile?” I felt the intimate sensation of his mind reach out to me, and closed my eyes.