Unbound by Kay Danella Page B

“Most examples of Majian pottery are broken shards. A rarity like this flask?” Her smile was bright with expectation, the glint in her eyes adding a sharp edge to her beauty. “Even the museums would sit up and pay attention, if only for this. Collectors will cross the galaxy just to see it.”
    His prison was destined to be auctioned off?
    To Romir’s relief, she set it back on the ledge. Those unnerving sensations stopped, confirming his suspicions. This was proof he was not as free as he had hoped. Only chance had given him a measure of independence. The Mugheli weave still held him bound, still a djinn trapped in this deathless servitude.
    Shaken, he stood silent as Asrial continued her work, handing down the pieces she requested and replacing them when she was done. If he was not careful, he would lose his fight and return to the madness of the gray mists.

    Performing inventory of her finds with Romir beside her had been an exercise in self-control. Asrial rubbed a hand on her thigh, drying its damp palm on her pants, as she laid the data logger on the comp. She’d been so conscious of his quiet presence she’d taken twice as long to inventory the items in the work cabin. Moreover, her heart insisted on making itself felt, its beat fluttering at her throat, on her wrists, and even between her legs, especially when he came within arm’s reach.
    The bio unit was the one place on the Castel where she could have privacy. Of course, she had only herself to blame for that, since she was the one who hadn’t wanted him out of her sight. She undressed and dumped her sweaty clothes in the presser for washing. Stepping under the shower, she wrestled against temptation.
    The warm stream of water reawakened her skin’s distracting sensitivity. She could feel his hands on her again, the rasp of his stubble, his mouth between her thighs.
    Asrial groaned as a frisson of delight streaked up her spine. She touched herself, trying to ease the ache, but her swollen flesh only throbbed all the more. She’d thought that need satisfied for the time being after the session with the pleasure wand, then the dream that hadn’t been a dream. She usually went decs between sessions. Even when she found someone on station to warm her sheets, one time generally sufficed to satisfy her. So why was it that the simple presence of a man roused this acute carnal hunger?
    Romir with his lean body. The carved planes of flowing muscle. The caffe brown skin that tempted her to lick and drink him up. The long hair that more than anything else marked him as a grounder. Even that dark blue tat of a stylized flaring star on his shoulder only added to his attractiveness, making him more exotic. Quite unlike the spacers she was accustomed to seeing on the stations.
    Was that novelty why she responded so strongly to him? He did nothing to invite her attention—save to stand there.
    The shower was replaced by hard jets of air that pushed the lingering beads of water off her skin and threw her hair into messy curls. The change made no difference to her carnal hunger.
    Another throb of need had her pressing her thighs together. Her body didn’t care about reasons. It ached, and she couldn’t think of a good reason to deny herself.
    Romir was here for the duration. He’d already seen her naked. He’d already pleasured her once. Why not take him to her bed? He hadn’t acted in any way suspicious; he didn’t behave as if that one night of pleasure earned him the right to her. And he seemed genuinely grounder-muddled about space travel—the astonishment on his face when they exited from Jump was too extreme an expression for such a guarded man—so she was safe, since he needed her to pilot the Castel .
    Besides, there was still the inventory of the other cabins and the hold to do and two decs—twenty Standard days—to the Eskarion Ring. She really couldn’t imagine keeping him at a distance for no good reason for all that time. She’d never been one