Fallen Star by Morgan Hawke

were hurried and rarely happened in private quarters. They were only interested in scratching their itch and getting on with other things. A moist towelette did for bathing after. In a world of thieves, you couldn’t trust anyone enough to actually fall asleep with them. She shrugged. “I didn’t have ... lovers like that.”
    “Considering the human vermin living on that station, I’m not particularly surprised.” His expression was wry as he squirted creamy soap on the cloth. He set the soap back on the wall and faced her. “I’m going to make sure you get plenty of handling.” He dropped the cloth on her back and started scrubbing her back and shoulders with brutal efficiency.
    “Handling?” Fallon gripped the rail tightly as her body rocked under the pressure of his strong hands. He wasn’t playing; he was scrubbing the burning fury out of her skin with vigorous attention to detail. Thick rich lather formed and spilled down her body in his wake.
    “Being touched, being held ...” He leaned over her back and whispered, “Being cared for.” He knelt at her side and scrubbed at her flanks.
    She ducked, her cheeks warming, and braced her feet to keep from getting knocked over by his sudden scouring assault on her legs. “What if I don’t want to be ... cared for?”
    “I’m afraid you really don’t have much choice in the matter.” His cloth slid up between her legs and focused on her sore privates.
    She turned away and hissed. The cloth was warm and his hands were gentle, but it was painfully humiliating to have someone’s hands on her, especially there.
    “You’ll just have to get used to the fact that ...” He dropped the cloth and slid his soapy fingers over and into her tender flesh. “You don’t get to make those decisions anymore.”
    She cringed. “Blood and hell, you are a bastard!”
    He chuckled. “Yep.” His shoved a soap-slick finger deep into her ass.
    She froze, stunned by the sudden invasion. He did not ...! A snarl escaped her lips. Before she knew it, her foot had snapped out in a kick aimed at his kneeling side.
    He twisted out of range and his hand whipped out. He smacked her wet thigh with a sharp crack. “Stop that!”
    She yelped and pulled her leg back. The strike stung, a lot. She’d known it was a stupid move; her hands were locked on the bar, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
    “Behave yourself!” He stood up and reached for her shoulder.
    Lightning blazed up the back of her skull and rage erupted in a hot red rush. She turned and snapped at him with her sharp teeth. “Don’t touch me!”
    He jerked his hand back. “What?”
    Her eyes narrowed, and a growl rumbled in her chest. Her lips curled back from her teeth. If he tried to touch her again, she would make him bleed.
    His eyes narrowed. “Oh, no, you don’t.” His hand snapped out, and his fingers knotted in her hair at the back of her neck, yanking her head back. He stared hard into her eyes as his lips curled back, baring his fangs only centimeters from her throat. “Get it through your thick skull -- I caught you; I took you.” His hand closed on her throat. “Your life is mine!”
    She snarled and tried to jerk her head away. “Fuck you!”
    His fist tightened in her hair. His other hand caught her chin, tilting her head back further and forcing her to arch back. He focused his cold, angry gaze on hers. “Back down, kitten.” A deep growl erupted from his chest. “You’re already beaten. Don’t make me prove it.”
    She focused on his mouth. His teeth looked really big, really sharp, and way too close. If he decided to rip her throat out, she was not in any position to stop him. Her growl died. She closed her mouth and swallowed, knowing he would feel it with his palm. Her gaze slid away from his, and she trembled in his grasp.
    “Good.” He tugged at her hair. “Now, apologize.”
    She sucked in a breath. “What?” Her gaze darted to his.
    His eyes were ice cold and his jaw