I wait for her to say something, and when she doesn’t, I take a step back. Sure, tonight is especially convenient, since Max is completely out of it, but there will be other nights when she feels more comfortable with this. With us.
Except then Kali’s lower lip wobbles in that way it does that drives me wild—when she’s nervous and she wants to work up the courage to do something but she isn’t sure she’ll be able to. I really hope, this time, she’ll be able to.
So I wait another moment, just to see what she decides. Just to see if that lip is going to wobble again—if it does, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself from nibbling at it.
Kali takes a breath and starts to open her door, and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a major fucking disappointment. At least until I hear her say to Rain, “I’m going to be late tonight, so feel free to take advantage of my absence.” Female giggles follow the announcement, followed by a low murmur that makes it sound like Rain and Beckett might be just as glad regarding Kali’s absence as I am with Gage’s and Max’s.
Even before Kali turns back to face me and says, “I’d love a tour of your room.”
Chapter 59
Kali
I’m nervous.
I know I shouldn’t be, know that it is just Ian who is currently staring at me with that look in his eyes like he wants to eat me up. Ian, the same guy I spend most of my time on this ship arguing with—not because he’s always wrong, but because it’s always fun to wind him up.
He’s not the first man to look at me like that—I’m nearly twenty years old. He is, however, the first one I’ve looked back at the exact same way—with a definite interest I don’t even try to hide.
As Ian opens his door and ushers me inside his surprisingly clean cabin—neither he nor Gage nor Max strike me as the uber-clean type; then again, it’s not like there’s so much lying around for them to make a mess with. None of us are exactly drowning in possessions. Normally, I’d be totally okay with that, but right now, when I’m casting around for something to say or something to do, I could really get behind him having a collection of space rocks I could ask about.
Once he ushers me into his room, Ian closes the door behind us. And for a second, I think about running. Not because I don’t want this, but because I do. The truth is, I’ve wanted it for a very long time, though I’ve gone out of my way not to admit it to myself, let alone anyone else. But now that the time is finally here, all I can think is that this is a bad idea.
A very, very bad idea.
What if I make a fool of myself? What if I can’t do what he wants me to do? What if I’m just really, really bad at it?
“You okay?” Ian asks as he walks across the room toward me. “I could run back to the galley and get you some water, if you’d like.”
It’s not a bad idea—all of a sudden, my mouth is desert dry. But I don’t think all the water in the world will change that. Not when Ian will still be standing in front of me, looking tall and dark and sexy. So very sexy.
“I don’t need water,” I finally tell him when I can finally get my mouth to cooperate.
His eyes somehow go even darker—or maybe it’s just that the pupils dilate until they’re so blown out that his beautiful, brown irises are just thin rings of color around them. “What do you need?”
“I—” I break off, my voice cracking. “I don’t know.”
He stops his forward prowl at the words, and for a second I’m terrified he’s going to send me on my way. But then he smiles and holds out a hand for me, and I relax.
I just need to work up the courage to slide my hand against his, and everything will be okay.
When the alternative is going back to my room without feeling his lips cover mine and his body move against me, it’s easy to forget the nerves. Easy to forget everything but Ian and the way he looks at me. The way he makes me feel.
Like—for this moment, anyway—I’m the most desirable woman in the system.
When our palms finally meet and our fingers lock together, he gives a little tug, and I flow smoothly from my place at the end of his bed to a place in his strong, powerful arms.
He feels good. More, he feels safe. And when I look up, it’s to find that his mouth is only a few centimeters from mine.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, and it’s the first time he’s ever felt the need to announce it like that. It makes me wonder just how nervous I look. “Is that okay with you?”
More than okay. I start to give him an enthusiastic yes, but my tongue hasn’t completely untied itself yet. So I settle for a nod and then wait, heart beating out of my chest, for him to finally lower his mouth to mine.
This isn’t our first kiss, but with the amount of sensation that runs through me the moment our lips meet, it might as well be. I learned before that Ian knows how to kiss, but as his lips slowly, carefully move against mine, I can’t help thinking that he really knows how to kiss. And that I want him to go on kissing me for a very, very long time.
His hands slide up my arms to my shoulders, from my shoulders to my cheeks. As he cups my face in his palms, I expect the nerves to return. But there is no nervousness, no awkwardness, no fear of looking like I’m out of my depth. No, as his mouth claims mine, the only thing I feel is desire. Pleasure. Need.
So much need as his tongue sweeps along the seam of my lips. As it toys with the sensitive corners of my mouth. As it delves slowly, sweetly inside of me.
“You taste so good,” he murmurs, sucking my lower lip gently between his teeth. “You’ve always tasted so good.”
“So do you,” I answer, licking my lips in an attempt to get more of him. He tastes like warm gerjgin, bittersweet coffee, and pure, warm man. From the moment he poured me my first gerjgin, I’ve been drawn to the taste of it, relishing the warm heat of it on my tongue, the burn as it makes its way down my throat, the fire it brings to my belly. As I relish the taste of him now—smooth and sharp and delicious all at the same time—I can’t help wondering if the reason I like gerjgin so much is because it reminds me of Ian.
I don’t know the answer to that question, but I do know that I’ll never be able to drink the liquor again without thinking of him. Without thinking of this moment when his fingers tangle in my hair and his mouth tangles with mine.
As his fingers tighten in my hair—not enough to hurt but more than enough to have more sensations spinning through me—I follow his unspoken request and tilt my head back to give him better access.
And then his mouth is on mine again, and nothing has ever felt so good. So perfect. So real.
He bites down on my lip—softly, this time—and sensations claw through me. Shivers run down my spine, heat pools low in my belly, and a hollowness I’ve never felt before takes up residence at the very heart of me. Then he soothes the tiny little hurt with his tongue, dancing it over the inside of my lip until my hands are shaking and so are my knees.
Ian is really good at this. Really, really good.
It makes me want to be good, too.
So when he moves to pull away from me, I don’t let him. Instead, I nip him back, sinking my teeth into his upper lip before pulling it into my mouth and sucking away the hurt.