Unfreezing Lucy Page 2

  I felt light enough to fly. ‘We’ve got four minutes. It should find us.’

  ‘And if it does–what do you propose we tell Alvarez?’

  ‘What was your plan?’

  ‘To slip back as unobtrusively as I left.’

  ‘Let’s tell him we fancied hanky-panky in the pea pod.’ I winked and squeezed his leg.

  For the shortest second his lips parted, his eyes widened. He settled back into the chair and his smile curled into a cheeky grin. ‘How much hanky-panky can we squeeze into 193 seconds?’

  My cheeks lifted to match his smile. ‘Not enough.’

  He wrapped his hand around mine, lifted it and brushed his oh-so-soft lips across my palm. ‘You were right. Sex has been on my mind, ever since I watched you, waist-high in robot parts in the repair workshop.’

  I freed my hand and slapped his. ‘I knew it. I—’

  Whatever else I may have said, he smothered with a kiss.

  Light danced across the porthole.

  Simon pulled away. ‘Did it see us?’

  A blue pulse hit our capsule. The tractor beam had found us.

  My thoughts scattered in a kaleidoscope of colour. In unison we raised our hands to protect our eyes from the light. Breathing was painful. With each gasp, less air filled my lungs.

  Simon grabbed my hand as he fell back into the seat. ‘Take it easy. Not long now.’

  ‘We haven’t synchronised our stories...’ My eyelids flickered shut. My last conscious thought was of Simon’s comforting hand around mine.

  FAMILIAR MUSIC MURMURED from Phobos’s berthing hall.

  Firm hands pressed me into a soft seat. A wave of nausea washed over me and I gulped down sweet breaths, full of oxygen.

  Simon slumped opposite me. He’d been without oxygen for longer, but he seemed okay. Giddy with relief, I pushed trembling hands under my legs.

  Captain Alvarez strode into the hall and stood between us. His arms folded, his face calm as always. ‘I’ve watched CCTV.’ His voice betrayed none of the anger I suspected he felt. ‘Lucy, you broke several rules, however, you reacted to an urgent situation.’

  I glanced across at Simon; a smile crossed his face.

  Our captain turned to Simon. ‘You will both go to sickbay. And then, Simon, we will talk.’

  The captain left. Two hospital robots followed him to the door and waited for us to rise.

  I leaned forward in my seat. ‘Don’t take all the blame, say—’

  ‘Let’s go.’ Simon helped me to stand and nudged me to the door.

  We followed the robots in silence. At the hospital bay, they stood aside to let us enter.

  The door swished shut behind us.

  I grabbed his arm. ‘You aren’t taking the blame for this.’

  ‘Watch me,’ he said.

  It’s funny how a near-death experience focuses the mind. I pressed my hands onto my hips. ‘Don’t boss me around, buster. I intend to take you out for Valentine’s dinner, which will be tricky if you’re confined to your cabin. Alone.’

  Oops. That wasn’t how I’d planned to ask him.

  He laughed, a gorgeous sexy sound. ‘I could’ve lost us a pricey prototype. I’ll be cleaning the bilges for weeks—lucky if I’m allowed to see my cabin.’

  I hugged my hands around his shoulders, lifted onto my toes and pressed my lips to his mouth. His eyes closed, he wrapped his hands around my head and held me close until the hospital bay hologram clicked online.

  Chapter Four

  I stirred to the bliss of silence.

  It was my free day at last. No alarm rattled me awake. My chest tightened, no Simon either. The Captain had ordered cabin detention for him when he wasn’t working in the repair bay. We’d barely seen one another, let alone spoken, since getting back to Phobos.

  ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Lucy Wilks,’ my cabin computer chirped out.

  Not so happy.

  I doubted we’d be getting together today. I glided from bed to bathroom cubicle and turned on the shower. With suds flowing over my shoulders, an idea formed. I couldn’t take Simon out, but maybe I could take lunch to him.

  Not in his cabin—I rubbed at my temples—I’d never get past the door security.

  But, I still had access to the maintenance decks.

  My chest fluttered with darts of excitement as I towelled myself. I piled my hair on top of my head, dragged a few tendrils around my face and rummaged in the drawer until I found my favourite lipstick, a lush magenta.

  The repair bay would be hot and humid. I flicked through the tops in my cupboard; there was nothing just right. In a fit of post-Tony-anger I’d cleansed my wardrobe of anything other than utilitarian stuff. My shoulders slumped. I wanted to look nice. Feminine.

  At the back, I felt something soft. Adrenaline tingled to the end of my fingertips. It was a gorgeous floaty halter-neck in lime-hazelnut silk that highlighted my eyes. White cut-off shorts, just the right length to show off my legs, lay in the drawer.

  In front of the polished steel wall, I assessed myself. Bare shoulders toned and smooth, bum too big, knees not too knobbly, thick hair tamed. Luscious lips. It would have to do.

  At the bottom of the wardrobe, a bottle of champagne wrapped in the picnic blanket I’d slept on at Veshilles, lay in a picnic basket.

  Perfect.

  My lab coat covered me from shoulder to knee. I wanted no-one gawking at me; no-one but Simon.

  With butterflies flitting in my belly, I ran to the main kitchen. Thank the stars, I wasn’t too late. I grabbed chocolate croissants, still soft and fresh. Strawberries, grapes and dates. A few people raised their eyebrows. I hummed as I grabbed small handmade chocolates. I didn’t want to answer questions.

  To avoid running into Jenny, or anyone else, I headed for the service stairwell used by robots and the people repairing them.

  Balancing the picnic basket on my hip, one hand gripping the sparse metal supports, I carefully descended four wobbly flights of stairs. A steady hum grew louder, a sweet metallic fume grew stronger, at each step. At the bottom, orange light spilled from the repair bay. Now I was here, my pulse thudded in my ears. I almost turned to mount the stairs again.

  ‘Lucy? What are you doing here?’ Simon’s voice cut across the noise of whirring fans.

  He was naked but for surf shorts hanging around his slim hips. His lithe body gleamed with sweat. He was tall and toned like a dancer, and exquisite. My nerve endings shivered in anticipation. My fingers ached with a need to touch him; instead I fiddled with my hair, hugged the clumsy lab coat around me.

  ‘You’ll roast in that coat.’ He stiffened, then strode towards me, took the basket from my hands and eased the thick cotton lab coat from my shoulders.

  His gaze journeyed from my eyes to my ankles and back again. His face brightened in a grin.

  I squeaked out one word. ‘Brunch.’

  He slid his arm around my waist. ‘Alvarez will have you on repair duty as well if he catches you.’

  ‘I’m not sure that sounds like a punishment.’ Warmth–nothing to do with the heat on this floor–flooded my body.

  Simon touched his lips to my forehead and cheek, then brushed them across my mouth. I darted out my tongue, and with a soft laugh, he caught it in his lips. He caressed my bare arms, then nuzzled into my neck. A long, low groan escaped from somewhere deep inside me.

  He enfolded me against him. ‘I didn’t expect to see you until after my detention.’

  Instead of answering, I cupped my hand on the back of his neck, and lifted my lips to his. We kissed again, softly at first, then more urgently, his tongue in my mouth, my hips thrust against his, my breasts pressed into his chest.

  It was as if the disaster with Tony never happened. Time unwound, like an old movie unravelling in an antique projector. I couldn’t hold Simon close enough, tight enough. I wanted to climb inside him. Needed him inside me.

  We pulled apart, both catching our breath. I traced my fingertips across his chin, dr
opped my hands to his shorts and eased them over his hips.

  He stilled my fingers. ‘Not here.’ He wrapped his hand around mine, grabbed the picnic basket and led me to a small alcove where he’d hung his clothes. ‘I’ll grab a shower—’

  ‘No.’ I gripped his hand. ‘I want you now.’

  His lips parted. I thought he might argue, instead he shut the door and helped me spread the picnic rug across the floor.

  He scooped my top in his hands; I lifted my arms above my head and let him slide the soft silk over my skin. With my arms still raised and my back arched, he ran his hands to my waist and back to my breasts. Fear and desire mingled together in an exquisite frisson. Every nerve ending stirred and tingled at his soft caress, my heartbeat matching the hot, deep pulsing between my legs.

  He pulled my shorts and knickers over my hips and down my legs, I kicked them away. He loosened his shorts, dropped them on top of mine and took my hands in his. ‘Are you sure?’

  If we hadn’t faced death together, I’d still be pretending comfortably numb was all I wanted. But we had, and it changed everything.

  I nodded.

  He slid behind me and lowered me to the rug, his body spooning mine, his arm cradling my head. He nuzzled against me as he curved my leg over his.

  Then his fingers found their way between my legs.

  I moaned as he caressed my clitoris. Forgetting everything else, I immersed myself in pleasure. I pushed my hips against his hand, until I froze, every muscle in my thighs and bum tense and shuddering.

  My body still trembling, he rolled me onto my back and slipped inside me. He felt so right, so good. After the first thrust he stilled and gazed into my eyes. My quickening breath tightened my chest.

  ‘You want to be on top?’ Simon whispered.

  I wanted the weight of him on me. I wrapped my hands around his bum to hold him still. ‘I want it like this.’

  His body quivered, hard muscles, taut stomach. He reached down and caressed my cheek. With soft fingertips I stroked down his spine.

  He pushed into me again. Slow, sensual, knee-weakening thrusts. His warm, smooth skin slid against mine. Holding himself on taut arms, focused and intense, he pushed in and out, staring into my eyes.

  After we’d both shuddered to stillness, I rolled into his arms and curled against his chest. He touched his lips to my forehead.

  ‘You okay?’ I murmured.

  He lifted on one elbow. A question on his face. Oh no, I’d done it again. Tony hated it when I asked him touchy-feely stuff. I mouthed sorry into Simon’s chest, but he seemed deep in thought.

  ‘I’m glad you asked.’ He traced my hairline with his fingertip. ‘I’m happier than a hippo in a mud bath.’

  He brushed his lips across my palm, like he’d done in the capsule. ‘How about you my angel, how do you feel?’

  Free.

  Free from self-imposed limitations, from the chains of despair, from the fear of connecting and losing again.

  Whole.

  I nuzzled back into his chest, twirled my fingers in a golden hair on his almost smooth skin. ‘Here I am, flesh and bones.’

  He lifted my chin. ‘Here we are, at the start of something wonderful.’

  Relaxing my body against his, I beamed back at him. Hyperaware of his heartbeat, his breath against my skin. Falling in love with the lop-sided smile that creased his face.