The Only One

do you know?"
    "Aleq told me."
    Oh, boy. She let her head fall back. "Let me guess: You revealed your planned mission, and he felt compelled to brief you on the hazards of the duty."
    The ends of Romjha's mouth twitched. "You underestimate me. I simply made some inquiries under the guise of a concerned superior officer wanting to be involved in the lives of his men. We spoke this morning, when we were washing up after our return. Not surprisingly, you came up during the course of the conversation."
    She groaned. "And he spilled his guts."
    "No, Taj, the facts only. They were all I required." Holding her chin between his thumb and index finger, he forced her to focus on his face. "I learned that what I wanted, I could have."
    His tone was half-teasing. But it was the half-serious part that troubled her. It was becoming very clear that whatever Romjha set his mind to do, he did.
    He pushed to his knees and stared at her. The bed creaked under his weight. Shadows slashed across his handsome face as, crouched on all fours, he leaned forward.
    He slid her shirt higher, exposing her upper body. Cool air washed over her skin. His hands smoothed up and over her ribcage to cup her breasts. Thick, callused fingers. Clever hands. She closed her eyes, relished the sensations, gasping softly when slick, wet heat replaced his touch.
    His mouth closed over a nipple, and he suckled her gently, teasing her with deft flicks of his tongue, unleashing a fresh rush of desire. All on its own, her body arched against him. How was it possible? She was ready for him, all over again, and she was still recovering from the first time!
    His hair fell forward, soft and loose, to tickle her face. She moaned, bunching her fingers in the strands.
    "Romjha?"
    He lifted his head. "Hmm?"
    "How long do we have?"
    "Tomorrow evening is the planned departure. After sunset." His tone was careful. He shrugged off his shirt, bunching the fabric and tossing it to the floor.
    "That means we'll only have this night, then," she said miserably.
    "No. We'll have more, Taj. Much more." Romjha slipped her shirt up and off; over her head. It landed somewhere behind her with a soft sound. "A lifetime of nights."
    He spoke with the same quiet conviction that had so angered her at dinner, conjuring the same familiar heat now.
    As if they indeed had all the time in the world, he settled on his side next to her on the bed. With his head propped by one hand, he nudged her legs apart with the other, obviously ready to devote his full attention to pleasuring her.
    She groaned—from her intensifying exasperation, or from desire, or both.
    His fingers trailed down her belly. The muscles there contracted; he noticed, smiling wickedly with his eyes as that dangerous hand moved lower.
    The reckless bastard was leaving, heading off to be slaughtered. She didn't want languorous love play, like they had all the time in the world, like they had a future; she wanted hard, hot, mind-numbing sex. She wanted to feel the full power of Romjha's body plunging into hers, stamping out her darkest thoughts, blinding her to reality.
    She grabbed his wrist. Under her fingers, his pulse beat hard and determined. "There is no future for us,"
    she said. "Do you understand? Just tonight. Play by those rules, or don't play at all." She lifted his hand to her breast, dropping it there. "Come on, time's wasting. Let's get on with it."
    His eyes flashed with something almost frightening, and his free hand swept behind her head. Dragging her off the pillow, he seized her mouth in a breathless, punishing kiss, angling his firm mouth so that her lips were forced open by the pressure.
    Taj gripped his biceps, trying to hold back the tidal wave that was her response to him. Within seconds, she knew this kiss had none of the warm passion of their wild encounter against the wall; it reflected only the coldness with which she'd made her demand. Then, just as suddenly, he let her go and she fell back onto the pillow.
    He leaned over her, regarding her with that focused, knowing look of his. There had been no triumph in the act for him, she knew. And for her, no satisfaction in bringing him to it. "Is this what you really want, Taj?"
    She touched the back of her hand to her throbbing lips. Then she shook her head. The sound of his belt hitting the floor startled her.
    Just as efficiently, he plucked off her slippers and discarded them, one after the other. It occurred to her that he'd been steadily divesting them