Adam blocked it out. Filled his head with song lyrics and chess moves and stories his mother had read to him as a child, back before things had gone to shit. His heart hammered inside his chest. Over the executive's shoulder, the planet's edge came into view. The shades of gold and yellow and gray were spectacular. Fucking amazing. And still the asshole's lips kept moving. Sweat tickled his spine but his throat turned arid and his stomach churned. He couldn't survive this. Not again. Damn it. He'd lived through worse than the fire during the war but, for some reason, Gideon's and Farris' deaths had trumped it all. They had bested each hellish moment of his time spent serving in the special troops.
Everything faded into the background until thunderous applause roused him from his stupor. Someone pounded him on the back and called him a hero. People gathered around. Rose's eyes shone with tears.
Shit.
He wasn't a hero. He hadn't saved anyone. Gideon and Farris were dead. He had nearly become toast himself. Everyone was talking but he couldn't hear a word over the blood surging through his ears. The voices were a senseless clatter. An endless, meaningless buzzing noise set to drive him insane. Then someone took his hand and cool fingers touched his face. It felt like being jerked awake and slapped hard. He recoiled, his vision hazy, and the grip on his clammy fingers tightened.
"Adam," she said. His wife's dark eyes held him, the pad of her thumb rubbing at the back of his hand as if she were removing a stain. She shouldn't have bothered. The burn marks were there to stay.
"We have to go," she announced, her voice clear among the chaos. She tugged firmly on his hand and led him away from the crowd of people. He followed her blindly, so gods damn grateful he could have kissed her feet.
Rose stepped forward, her eyes glossy. "Adam..."
"Later," was all his wife said. Nothing and no one slowed their progress through the crowd.
She led him straight to the bank of lifts. Doors opened and they stepped in, alone. The doors closed and his wife stepped up to the com screen on the wall. Their arms stretched out between them like a life-line, their hands linked. He wasn't sure who was holding on to whom anymore, but he couldn't let go. Wouldn't. Not yet. The connection seemed the only thing holding him together.
Louise pinched her lips with her fingers and stared at the map blinking up onscreen. "I think I know where we are."
"I, ah...I know."
"Oh. Good." She returned to his side and shot their joined hands a startled look.
Fair enough--he understood. He'd done his utmost to avoid her and now he wouldn't let go. But curiously, she didn't try to make him.
It felt almost as if those limbs belonged to two different people entirely. The fingers entwined and palms clasped tight. Kind of odd how well her smaller hand fitted inside his, almost as if they'd been doing it forever. He held her hand up to his face. A fine layer of dirt lay beneath a couple of the short, neat nails. Interesting--perhaps the princess might not be so perfect. What had she had been up to?
The elevator doors opened and they walked back to the domicile, hand in hand. It wasn't far--home, sweet home. When the door slid shut behind them, locking them in, he breathed out an almighty sigh of relief. Just let it all out. It left him on a groan, low and tired and plaintive.
He had survived another memorial.
They stood there in silence.
"Adam?" she asked after a while.
"Yeah?"
"Are you all right?" Louise stepped out of her heels with a hand on the door for balance. She dropped by about three inches, no longer matching his height. Her toes flexed and stretched against the floor and she made a small, happy noise. It was cute. Asking her to put the sexy shoes back on was probably out of the question, no matter how hard his day had been.
"I'm fine. Thanks." His eyes drifted back to their joined hands. Specifically, to her nails. "Come over here."
"Hmm?"
Adam led her to the two-seater table where he had left his pocketknife.
"Keep still." He flicked out the two-inch blade and felt her flinch. She tugged on her hand but he didn't let go. "You've got dirt beneath your nails."
Her eyes widened. "Oh."
"I was going to get it out."
Even in the low lighting he could see her color and a reluctant smile spread across her face. "Thank you."
Her hand relaxed in his and he bent over it and got to work, carefully digging out the deposits beneath her short nails. Going slowly because he didn't want to slip up and hurt her and, besides, he'd gotten used to holding her hand by now. He wasn't in any rush not to. It felt nice--odd but nice.
His wife had rescued him. Warm, fuzzy feelings rose up inside.
A job like this meant they had to stand close and she stood right there, next to him. The citrusy scent of her shampoo or whatever it was lingered around them. Her shoulder brushed against his and he held still, hyper-aware of her. Arm tensed, he waited to see if it happened again. Her breath warmed the side of his neck. It was the faintest thing but he liked it--all of it--surprisingly, and a lot.
"What have you been doing?" he asked.
"Working down in the gardens."
"Really?" he asked, amazed. But then, where else was she likely to get dirt beneath her nails? The princess gardening--go figure.
"Yeah."
"Huh."
"They're short on people, so I volunteered."
"Did you?"
"Yes. I did." Her hand stiffened in his and the whip-like snap in her voice dissolved any ease between them. Suddenly everything was fucking horrible once again, awkward and unwelcome. They were strangers. "You disapprove?"
"No. Why would I?" What had he been thinking? This wasn't going to work. Adam took one last look at her fingers and set her free. "They're all fine. I'm going to take a shower."
She'd fucked it up.
Louise watched as Adam disappeared into the bathroom. The hand he'd been holding was clutched to her chest. It had been so long since she'd been touched in anything but a cursory manner. Things like the guards guiding her here and there, or the DA giving her fingers a comforting squeeze. Stuff like that--unimportant social niceties.
It had been so long since she'd experienced any awareness of a man. Felt the knowledge of herself as a woman. The surreal buzz in her body as her hormones woke up.
And they had been communicating. Real, live, actual talking. Then she had opened her mouth, jumped to the wrong conclusion and shut him down.
"Great going."
Not a scrap of muck in sight beneath her nails. What a fallback job for him if the mining grew old. He'd been so careful, gentle. There'd been a thread between them, something delicate growing in the proximity.
And Adam was...well, Adam was rather easy on the eye.
Turned out her husband was actually all sorts of lovely when he wasn't fresh off a drinking binge. His cheekbones and jaw should be rendered in stone, all strong, clean lines. He had a high forehead and short, dark hair. There was a small dent in his chin, visible when it wasn't covered in a three-day growth. He even smelled nice. Warm and male and...
Louise squeezed her thighs together and hugged her hand tight to her chest.
Her husband.
The bathroom door remained closed.
Of course.
Distantly, there was the low hum of the shower running.
Had he locked the door?
She sidled closer, curious. Her hand wisely stalled beside the scanner, as well it might. She shouldn't. Really probably shouldn't.
But life was short and you never did know.
So she did.
For the sake of marital bonds. And to apologize, which was only good manners.
And really, deep down, she wanted to pick up the unexpected thread between them. She wanted to see where it led. It had been so long since she'd felt this much of anything, outside fear and apprehension.
The small room was filled with steam but she could see him courtesy of the lack of a shower door. The long, hard
lines of his body were displayed to perfection as he stood there with his arms propped against the shower wall and his head hanging between them. She wished she had her com unit on her to snap a picture for posterity. Water pounded down onto the back of his neck, flowed over his shoulders and spine.
And there was an ass to be proud of, right there. Then came thick thighs and long, muscular legs with a sprinkling of dark hair.
What the hell was he going to say when he saw her there?
No backing out now.
She clutched her hands together and cleared her throat. "Adam?"
His head snapped around so fast that drops of warm water hit her cheeks. His arms fell and he turned to face her. It was an effort to keep her eyes from wandering south.
"I just wanted to apologize," she started, and stepped closer. The mist from the water dampened the front of her dress and her hair clung to her cheeks. It was really warm in there. With her naked husband scowling at her. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."
He said nothing.
"So I'm sorry."
"This couldn't have waited 'til I was finished?"
Angry or not, he was a nice-looking man. She edged closer, close enough that her feet were sitting in water and her stockings were wet. "I felt bad about it."
"Ah," he said.
He had clear blue eyes and as they fixed on her they sent a tremor straight through her heart. A crazy little jolt of electricity. It tingled in her toes. Her eyelids started fluttering like a butterfly's wings, beyond her control. What had she been thinking? She'd walked in on the man in the shower and there was no backing out now. Her hands fisted at the sides of her stupid, shapeless skirt.
Maybe she should leave. Give the poor guy some privacy.
No, she had to know how this ended.
There. Decision made.
She waited but he said no more.
One of them had moved but she wasn't sure who. The front of her dress was drenched. They were toe to toe, standing in the puddle of water. The suspense was killing her. "That's all you're going to say? Ah?"
Adam stood there, hot, wet, naked and staring back at her. "What do you want me to say, Louise?"
"Tell me to leave or something. I don't know."
"I don't want you to leave."
"You don't want me to stay," she countered. "You've spent the last two days avoiding me."
"I have," he agreed. And it was the obvious truth but it stung. "But that was before."
She squinted at him, trying to understand and failing dismally. "Before what?"
"Before." He put his hands on his hips, shook his head and actually smiled. Looked a little embarrassed if anything. She had been wrong. He was... This man was gorgeous. Jaw-droppingly, brain-boilingly beautiful when he smiled. Her nipples tightened and poked at the front of her dress. Adam couldn't have failed to notice. "Before the memorial. Before you got your hands dirty. Before you walked in on my shower, for the gods' sake."
"What does getting my hands dirty matter?"
"It matters. Do you always ask this many questions?"
"Yes," she said. "Sometimes."
"Ah," he said.
Louise leaned farther in to him. She could only hope he would catch her before she fell. "You keep saying that."
He smiled as if he knew a secret.
They were so close, his mouth barely above hers. All his bare, wet skin laid out before her like a buffet. More than her stockings were wet and more than her knees trembled.
"You're a very pretty man, Adam Elliot," she said.
Bless him, the man actually blushed. "You didn't think so when you first saw me."
"You were not at your best."
"No. No, I wasn't."
"Nor were you that keen on me."
"True."
"Loving the honesty, Adam." She hung her head and her eyes dropped and, well now...he was very keen on her now. Ecstatic, even. He was long and thick and lovely, another part of him worthy of being rendered in stone. When was the last time she'd even seen a real, live penis? Well over a year. He made her mouth water.
She dragged her gaze back up him and the tension ratcheted higher when she met his eyes. There wasn't much of the blue left. The black had consumed it whole. "Huh."
"That all you're going to say?" he asked.
"No." She needed her hands on him. Didn't matter where--she'd get to all of him eventually. Her trembling fingers settled for re-tracing the path they'd taken along his jaw earlier, back at the memorial when he'd looked so lost. His skin had grown paler with every word spoken 'til he was ashen.
What he must have gone through.
The hint of dark stubble dragged at her fingertips and he held himself perfectly still. Apart from the muscle jumping in his jaw. "What are you waiting for, Adam?"
"For you to make the first move."
"I came in here."
"The second one then."
Well. Actions spoke louder than words.
Louise slid her hand around the back of his neck and sealed their mouths together. Done. She was kissing her husband. And he made a sound in the back of his throat that shot straight to her best bits, squeezing her insides tight in a delicious rush.
Oh yeah.
Adam opened his mouth and she took up the invitation, slipping her tongue inside, tracing over his teeth. He tasted right and good and she never wanted it to end. Strong hands fixed on her hips and pulled her in to him, pressing the hot, hard length of his cock against her belly.
By the time they came up for air, her head was spinning and her arms were twined around his neck, hanging on for dear life.
And she was drenched. Her dress clung to her and her hair was plastered to the side of her head. She was drunk on him, drowning.
"Hey." His breath was choppy against her ear. "Can I say something without it starting a fight?"
She nodded breathlessly, still trying to drag in air. "I honestly have no intention of fighting with you right now."
"Good." He pulled back and set his forehead against hers, one side of his mouth lifted in what would have been a panty-wetting smile if the shower hadn't long since done its work. "I fucking hate your dress."
Startled laughter burst out of her and his fingers fumbled with the zip at her back. Cool air hit her skin, pebbling it. "Rip it, Adam. I hate it too."
He didn't rip it, just in case she changed her mind.
Adam peeled the wet fabric down her arms to expose a sensible black bra. Or it might have looked sensible on someone else, but on her it looked like sin. Heavenly, wonderful sin. His wife had a lot of smooth, pale skin. She shone like a pearl. The more he revealed, the more he wanted. His cock was so hard it hurt.
The day had taken a surprising turn for the better.
Louise reached behind her, ducked her head and unhooked the bra with practiced ease. Gave him a shy smile. He helpfully took over the task of slipping the straps off her shoulders and disposing of her underwear. And what was revealed was...exquisite. A perfect mouthful with hard, dark-pink nipples, and he had to wonder how sensitive they were. How she would like having his mouth on her. What noises would she make?
But there was no time to test or taste.
His wife shimmied the dark material over her hips, revealing an equally sensible pair of black panties. The wet dress dropped to the shower floor with a splash. Skin-toned stockings ran all the way up to a discreet, lacy show at her thighs and his brain overheated.
No other excuse.
He was on his knees and backing her into the nearest wall before it had a chance to catch up. The water struck his back in counterpoint to his hands on her warm, soft skin. So fucking beautiful.
"Adam?"
"Take them off."
"The stockings?"
"No. Panties."
Fingers slipped down either side of the black underwear. She skimmed them down her legs and stepped out of them. When she reached for the wet stockings he pushed her hands away.
"Leave those." He pressed
his face to the gentle round of her belly, sketched his fingers over the velvet of her thighs and traced the tops of her stockings. They should be illegal, those stockings. His wife should be contraband. He traced the edge of the lace with his fingertips and the muscles in her legs tensed. Her knees quivered. He kissed the dimple of her bellybutton and tried to think of something to say. Something complimentary or poetic, but he had nothing.
Just a little lower, her pussy beckoned, the scent of her rich and musky and wholly feminine.
He wanted it. Needed it.
Gently, he pushed out against her locked knees, enough to let her know what he wanted. She didn't hesitate, thankfully. With one hand, he guided her leg over his shoulder, opening her up to him. She really was exquisite, from the small swell of her mound to the bare, puffy pink lips of her sex.
"Adam?"
"Mmm?" He brushed his lips against her mound and his gaze turned up to her. The way she watched him pleased him no end. As if nothing else existed outside her need to have his mouth on her. There was a little ridge of skin above her nose, she was concentrating so hard.
He pressed open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin and dug the tip of his tongue into the topmost seam of her pussy lips. She shuddered and her hands found his hair instead of clutching at the shower wall, fingers kneading his scalp.
The next time he rubbed his lips over her mound, she gave a sharp tug. "Adam, stop teasing."
His wife was a hair-puller.
Good to know.
He hid his grin between her legs and got to work, eating her sweet, hot cunt like a starving man. There was little finesse and no restraint. He wanted to undo her too much.
Needed to make her come.
The barest beginnings of a thank you for what she had done for him today.
One hand was curved around her thigh, keeping it on his shoulder, keeping her balanced. The other cupped an ass cheek, holding her to him when her legs started to shake. Louise rolled her hips and pushed against him, not shy at all. And he took.
Fuck, it worked for him. Not just the taste of her but this wanton side of her that was being exposed.
When her back arched and she cried out, her fingers twisted sharply in his hair, raising a tear. Painful, but oh so worth it. Her whole body quaked and quivered. He almost lost it there and then.
And then there was an almighty thump as the back of her skull hit the tiled wall.
"Princess?"
Her hand flew from his head to her own and she blinked big, pain-filled eyes at him. "Ow."