Escape Velocity (Off-World Series, Book 7): Sexy Science-Fiction Romance Novel Read online

  “I fell into this one, and it works okay. Maybe I was lucky. I might not have enjoyed getting bogged down in regulations.”

  She stopped eating when there was still food in the bowl.

  “You’re full?”

  “I’m feeling weird.”

  “Like how?”

  “Nothing I ever felt before. I could be getting sick.”

  “I hope not. But you’ve had a lot of stress today. Maybe you should try to sleep.”

  “Okay.”

  He took her to the tiny guest cabin, smaller than his own, then showed her the shared head facilities. After demonstrating how to flush the toilet, he said, “There’s water to wash your hands and face. But to clean your body, I have a cleansing unit.” He gestured toward a transparent enclosure. “It will do the job in a couple of minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  In the guest cabin, the bunk was about the size of his, but the floor space was almost nonexistent.

  “Sleep in your clothes,” he said, not wanting to take a chance on coming across her naked again.

  “My sandals, too?”

  “You can take them off.”

  She kicked off the leather sandals she was wearing and eased onto the bunk. “So soft,” she murmured.

  “Get some rest.”

  The light had dimmed when she lay down. “If you sit up, you’ll have light again.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going to close the door. You can open it with this handhold.” He grasped the finger niche and demonstrated.

  “Okay.”

  He eased the door closed, then headed back to the control room. Before he proceeded to Danalon, he wanted some answers from Rafe. Did his friend know what he was buying? And, if so, what was he planning to do with a slave?

  ###

  “Amber.” She said the syllables aloud, testing them, listening to the sound. She had to remember that’s who she was now.

  She dragged in a deep breath and let it out, willing herself to be calm, but she simply couldn’t stop her heart from thumping inside her chest.

  She had let Max Cassidy pick her name because she had no idea of what would sound pleasing to the ears of an offworlder. It was a good choice—short and clean.

  “I’m a new person,” she whispered into the darkness, pleased with that realization, then found that tears were leaking from her eyes. She dashed them away with the sleeve of her borrowed shirt, unwilling to break down now that she had come so far.

  You are strong. You can make this work a voice said inside her mind. It wasn’t her voice. Although Amber was saying it to herself, in her head she heard the low tones of her friend Esme, whispering to her as they had done at night in the slave quarters. They’d arrived at the facility about the same time. And they’d quickly become friends, both worried about their future.

  She clenched her hands at her sides, fighting off guilt. She was on this ship, heading for a destination unknown. And Esme was still back in their living nightmare on Naxion. Would the masters know Esme had helped with the escape? “Gods, no,” she whispered, praying that it had all come across as an innocent accident.

  Esme had dropped one of the slop bowls as she was cleaning up from breakfast. Then she’s been slow to get the rags to wipe it up.

  The guards had yelled at her, and one of the chiefs, a brutish bastard named Zobar, cuffed her on the side of the head and stayed to supervise the cleanup. Which meant Zobar wasn’t one of the men who marched Amber off to the cart that took her to rendezvous spot. And the remaining swine were not as competent.

  She lay with her heart pounding, trying to process everything that had happened since Max had scattered the jewels on the ground, giving himself a head start in getting them away. If he hadn’t used that trick, perhaps one of them would have gotten killed. Or both. That realization made her shudder. What if they had killed him and taken her back? She would have been responsible for the death of an innocent man.

  Steady her friend said, her familiar voice reassuring. Everything’s going to be fine.

  She almost laughed out loud at that analysis. Esme did not know what would happen now. Neither did Amber—and imagining reassurances didn’t change anything.

  She’d already taken terrible risks. But she had been desperate enough to try and change her fate. Now here she was, on a ship speeding away from everything familiar—with no idea how much she did not know about the worlds outside her home planet. If she let herself think too much about her ignorance, she might have given up in fear. Instead, she had plowed ahead with her crazy plan. And now that she was off her cursed home world, she was trying to learn as much as she could about her new situation—and about Max Cassidy. In truth, she had boldly pulled off her shirt to gauge his reaction to her body. In retrospect, that had been a dangerous idea. He was the only other person on this ship. He could do anything he wanted to her. He could have grabbed her right then. Or he could invade her privacy now.

  She stopped trying to let the shade of her friend reassure her and tuned her ears to her new environment, listening for sounds in the corridor. There were none, only the steady throbbing of the ship’s engines as they propelled the craft through the blackness.

  When Max did not slip into her room, she let herself relax a little, although feeling comfortable was beyond her. Too restless to sleep, she got quietly off the bed and tiptoed to the door. Quietly she pressed her fingers into the grip and pulled to the side. When it moved a few inches, she let out the breath she’d been holding. Despite what he had said, she had thought he might have locked her in, but she could get out. And go where?

  The illumination in the hallway was dim, but she saw a light shining somewhere to her left. She quietly followed it and found the man in his driver’s seat, or whatever he called it.

  He was fiddling with equipment that she did not recognize.

  In front of him a . . . picture . . . flickered to life. Like the scene of the two men fighting. But this was the image of one man, and it stood still like in a painting. The face hung in front of him for only a moment before the picture disappeared and was replaced by a black and white pattern. A disembodied voice said.

  “Who is calling this unit?”

  Max leaned forward and said, “Cut.” The next word out of his mouth was a curse. “Slat.”

  When the picture snapped off, he sat drumming his fingers on the arm of his seat, his shoulders rigid.

  It seemed the voice hadn’t been what he was expecting, and he obviously wasn’t pleased. Too bad she did not know more about communications on Danalon. For that matter, too bad she had jumped into this situation virtually blind.

  Before he could turn around and catch her spying on him, she backed away and slipped quietly down the hall

  Now what?

  She was feeling a very strange heat seeping through her. She had worried that she might be getting sick. Now she did not know what to think. Maybe if she lay down, it would pass.

  Her legs were shaky, and she pressed her palm against the cool metal of the hallway as she headed back to the small sleeping space, closed the door behind her and slid onto the bunk. The bed had a blanket, but the idea of pulling it over herself made her feel slightly sick, and she kicked it to the side.

  He’d told her to sleep in her clothes. But they had turned scratchy against her skin, and she pulled at the front of the shirt. Her breasts felt hot and swollen. He had said that most people on Naxion had a disease. Was this a disease you got when you left the planet? Overlaying the heat surging through her body came a stab of panic. Had she made a horrible mistake?

  No, she assured herself. Any way you considered her new circumstances, she was better off.

  ###

  Max clenched the arm of his chair. The transmission could have been caught by a normal answering bot, but he didn’t think so. He clicked off immediately, hoping he hadn’t been on long enough to be traced. “Fek.”

  After sitting for a few moments with his eyes closed, he called up s
ome of the government databases that he’d paid a hacker to access for him.

  His worst fear was confirmed. Rafe Cortez had deactivated his communications account.

  Why, exactly? Like, maybe he’d been arrested?

  But if so, why? For agreeing to bring in illegal cargo from Naxion? And would he have implicated Max?

  At the moment, there was no way to find out what was going on. And the uncertainty meant that returning to Danalon could be dangerous—for both himself and Amber.

  But he couldn’t exactly fly her around in space forever. He’d need fuel. And he’d need to know where he stood with the law.

  He was still contemplating his next move when he heard a low moan over the comms unit he’d left open. It was coming from the guest cabin.

  Chapter Three

  The cabin door burst open, and Amber reared back. Then, in the light coming in from the hall, she saw Max Cassidy standing in the doorway.

  She stared at him, trying to lie still, but she could not stop herself from rocking back and forth in the bunk.

  When he crossed to her, she struggled to control her features, but she knew she probably looked like a panicked orex.

  “What is it? Did the food make you sick?”

  “It is not my stomach.”

  “What hurts?”

  Trying to explain, she said, “Not hurts exactly.”

  “Then what?”

  She looked away. “I cannot tell you.”

  “I can’t help you unless you do.”

  She swallowed hard, then pressed her hand against her breast before moving it to the juncture of her legs, where the throbbing was worst. “Here. And here,” she whispered. She wanted to keep her hand there because it felt good, but she forced herself to pull it away and press it against the mattress.

  “Slat.”

  A jolt of alarm seized her. “Is it something bad?”

  “Not under ordinary circumstances.” When he crossed the small space, the lights came up, and she blinked and turned her head away.

  He pressed a plate on the wall to lower the illumination.

  “What is wrong with me? Did I catch some disease when I left Naxion?”

  “I don’t think so. I think it’s fallout from the drug they were feeding you.”

  She was still struggled to lie still. “How?”

  He dragged in a breath and let it out before speaking. “You said you were forced to take something that . . . repressed your sexuality.”

  “Yes.”

  “But they skipped your latest dose.”

  She answered with a little nod.

  “It looks like it’s worn off—with a vengeance.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I guess we’ll find out.” As he spoke, he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the mattress, his feet still on the floor. He was close to her now, closer than he had been except when he had hurried her into the shuttle. She was suddenly aware of the male scent of his body, of his breathing that was not entirely even.

  She was not sure why she closed her fingers around his arm, but her panicked grip made him wince.

  “Sorry.” She loosened her clasp.

  “It’s all right.”

  “No, it is not. I feel like something bad is building inside of me.”

  “Not bad. Just intense.”

  She heard desperation in her own voice. “I feel like I am going to come flying apart. Can you help me?”

  “Yes. If you let me.”

  “Anything. You have to make it go away.” She had clenched her legs together like she had done when she was a child trying to keep from wetting herself. That helped a little—but at the same time, it increased her need for . . .. She did not know how to finish the rest of the thought.

  In the dim light, she could see the color had risen in his cheeks.

  “This is making you angry.”

  “Not angry,” he said sharply.

  “Then what.”

  “Maybe embarrassed.” He made a low sound. “We’re strangers.”

  “Yes.”

  “But to help you, I have to touch you—in places where strangers don’t touch each other. The places you touched yourself a few minutes ago.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks as she imagined his hands on her. Somehow that imagining increased the throbbing feelings surging through her.

  “Will it hurt?” she managed to ask.

  “Well, it’s going to be hard on me.” He laughed.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “It’s not. Sorry. This is difficult—for both of us.”

  She glanced toward the door, wishing she could flee. But she knew there was no place for her to go.

  He leaned over, stroking his fingers against her hot cheek, and she turned her face so that the finger stroked her mouth instead.

  The finger traced the outline of her lips as he asked, “Do you know anything about sex?”

  She swallowed hard, struggling for coherence when she felt her thoughts swirling away like dry leaves in a raging windstorm. She managed to say, “You mean mating?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice sounding thick.

  “I’ve seen animals do it. The male climbs on top of the female’s back.”

  “That’s not how people do it.”

  “How?” Simply asking the question sent a bolt of heat through her.

  “It’s usually face to face.”

  She heard her tone turn high and uneven as she asked. “Are you going to mate with me?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. “We can’t do that.”

  She felt a jolt of panic. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m guessing you’re a virgin. Are you?”

  “A virgin? Do you mean have I not had sex?”

  “Uh huh.”

  She gave a small nod.

  “Then mating would be taking advantage of you.”

  Her hand on his wrist tightened. “But if that’s what I need?”

  “Arousal is building inside you. It won’t stop until you reach sexual climax.”

  Her only answer was a little moan.

  “I can help you do that—without mating.”

  The whole conversation felt unreal and full of restless urgency. At the same time, she was coherent enough to realize that with another man, she could be in a world of danger. But not with this man. Not with Max Cassidy.

  “I trust you,” she whispered.

  He looked like he wanted to contradict her. Instead he said, “Lie back.”

  She did as he asked, and he dimmed the lights. She wished he would make it all the way dark, so she could fade into the blackness. She wanted to turn her head away, but she wasn’t going to be a coward. Not now.

  “I’m going to unbutton your shirt.”

  “Okay.”

  She had taken off her slave rags in front of him, but somehow this was different—more intimate.

  He lowered his gaze as he undid the buttons. Her skin tingled where he touched her, and she could feel her heart drumming like she’d been running hard.

  He pushed the sides of the shirt back, not exposing her entire chest, but she could see the tip of her right nipple had contracted to a tight point.

  “It looks like I’m cold,” she whispered. “But I’m hot.”

  “Yeah. Me too,” he muttered.

  Her gaze dropped to the front of his pants, and she could see the rigid outline of his man part. What was he going to do with it?

  Her attention switched back to her own body as he stroked the sides of her breasts, the under curves.

  “Oh!”

  “Does that hurt?”

  She looked at his tanned hands against her white skin, the image adding to her arousal.

  “No. It feels good.”

  Her nipples were even harder now, and he brushed his fingers across the tips, then drew circles around them, the circles growing smaller until they were teasing the upright edges.

  She gulped in air, glanced at hi
m and then away. “It feels like I need more. Not just there. Between my legs.”

  “We’ll get there.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, riding with the heat that seemed to be burning her from the inside out. The hidden place between her legs felt wet and swollen. She should be embarrassed, but she was beyond embarrassment.

  She could feel him pulling down the short pants she wore so they rode at her hips. Fighting against the constriction, she tugged them down farther and kicked them away, hearing him drag in a breath as she did.

  “Open your legs for me, so I can . . . build your pleasure,” he whispered.

  She did as he asked. He kept a hand on her breasts, squeezing one nipple and then the other as he ran his fingers through the triangle of hair at the top of her legs. When she bucked her hips, he reached lower, into the folds of her private parts.

  His fingers slipped easily along that hidden valley, slick with unaccustomed moisture.

  She felt one finger dip into her opening, turning in a circle, making her need more. He seemed to know what she wanted, because his hand traveled upward toward a bud of sensation at the top of her woman’s part.

  He circled there as he had with her nipples, then stroked downward again, keeping the top of his hand pressed to the throbbing place.

  “Harder,” she gasped.

  In response, he angled his hand, pressing more firmly, sliding against her, building the pressure inside her to an unbearable peak. Her hips rose and fell, as she strove to increase the friction. She heard her own harsh breathing, felt her heart pounding. Then a dam broke, and sensation burst through her. She cried out as the tension released in a quaking explosion. An explosion of pleasure.

  She flopped back against the mattress and lay with her eyes closed, breathing hard, mentally finding her way back to the bunk where she lay. She wanted to hide from him, but that was impossible.

  When she finally opened her eyes, she saw Max staring down at her, his features rigid.

  “What did you call that—that pleasure that swept over me?”

  “Sexual climax.”

  “They took that away from me?”

  “Yes.”

  She made a small sound. “It was so good. Like nothing I ever felt in my life.”

  “I’m glad I could give you that,” he answered, but she caught the tension radiating from him.