THE OFF WORLD COLLECTION (Short, Steamy Science Fiction Romances) (Off-World Series) (12 page)

Chapter Six

Caleb wanted to shout in frustration. Of course he wanted to come, but was it all right to do it that way? In the shower with her hand clasped around his aching cock. Like he’d do it himself when his frustration level got the better of him.

She took the decision away from him by stroking her slippery hand up and down his length, making him gasp.

He had stopped thinking about anything besides the maddening stroking and squeezing of her hand.

With his head thrown back against her shoulder, he absorbed the pleasure of what she was doing to him, going with it. He went off like a rocket blasting into space, bracing his hand against the shower wall to stay on his feet.

What she had done had embarrassed him, but he knew they had reached a decision point. He could take the coward’s way out and stay with his back to her, with his head down, or he could turn around.

He turned, raising his head and taking in the glory of her naked body, so different from his. Her breasts were small and high, crowned by rosy nipples. Her hips had a seductive lure, as did the triangle of blond hair at the top of her legs.

“Do you want to return the favor?” she asked.

It took a moment to realize what she was asking. When the meaning of the question finally registered, he answered, “Yeah.” Then “How?”

“It would feel good if you start with my breasts. I mean if you want to.”

“Yeah.”

“You could use the soap the way I did on you.”

He lathered his hands, stroking them over her breasts. They were soft, so soft, with a hardened tip that stabbed against his palms.

When his fingers brushed a rigid peak, she made a small sound.

“Sorry.”

“No. It’s good. I need more.”

“Like what?”

She brought her lips to his ear, tugging on the lobe with her teeth, and then murmuring, “Play with my nipples.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Do anything you want.”

He drew circles around them with his soapy fingers, gasping at the way their tightness made his own body quiver. Quickly he washed off the soap so that he could tug and twist at them, watching her face, trying to judge her reaction.

Her breathing had accelerated. Her face flushed.

He felt the tension gathering in her. But he couldn’t make her come that way, could he?

“What do you need?” he asked.

Reaching for one of his hands, she tugged it down her body, into the moist, slippery folds of her furrow. She wedged his hand there, moving her hips urgently back and forth.

He watched her face, watched passion drench her features, then felt a small convulsion against his fingers.

She cried out, then anchored herself against him. They clung together under the cooling water.

“You’re hard again.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry. Touching me charged you up. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.” She laughed. “All good.”

She tipped her face toward him. “If we stay here, we’re not going to get much done.”

Caught between temptation and his work ethic, he reached behind her and turned off the water, then grabbed a towel and began to dry her off.

“Did you mind my getting in the shower?”

“I was embarrassed at first.”

Her answer was immediate. “Don’t be. Never be embarrassed with me.”

“I’ll try not to.” He swallowed hard and forced an admission from his lips. “But, there’s so much I don’t know.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know, either.”

“You know about sex.”

“Do you mind that?”

Maybe he minded, a little. What he said was, “I guess it’s an advantage. I mean better that one of us knows what they’re doing.”

She took his hand, folded it and spoke with her lips against his knuckles. “There’s a boatload of stuff you’re going to have to teach me. I still don’t really get the
comms unit. And I need to know how to fly a hauler. How to shoot a beamer. And how to fight borgans and granlings.”

“I hope to hell you don’t have to do that last part.”

He looked down at her hand, then noticed the irregularity above the joint.”

“You broke your wrist.”

She went very still. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t have a medic set it.”

“Dad never paid for anything he thought he could do himself,” she answered quickly.

“It must have hurt like hell.”

“Yes.”

She pulled her hand away. “We should get going.”

Caleb watched her grab a towel and start to dry off. Apparently the wrist was something she didn’t want to talk about.

If left to his own devices, Caleb might have spent the whole day thinking about what they had done in the shower, or maybe getting
Beka back into bed and playing with her breasts, running his hand into the folds of her sex, watching her face when he aroused her. He liked that he’d done that. Liked that she’d enjoyed what he was doing to her body. He knew she hadn’t faked an orgasm. He’d felt it against his hand.

He wanted to feel that again. Not just with his hand, with his cock.

“Cut it out,” he muttered to himself.

Nothing had changed at the homestead as far as the environment was concerned. There was still a lot of work to do. And now he wasn’t only responsible for himself. He had to take care of his wife—and keep her safe.

His wife.

It had been an abstract concept before they’d met. Now he was getting to know her, although he wasn’t sure that she entirely trusted him. Otherwise, wouldn’t she open up a little more about her background?

And was she rushing the sexual relationship? She could have skipped the shower with him. But she’d set it up so he’d be in there and naked when she stepped in.

Before he’d met her, he’d pictured how it would be. He’d thought a new bride would be shy and reticent. She wasn’t either of those things.

When he came in from checking on Silla and the foal, she was in the prep area, making breakfast. Brewed coffee was in the pot. She’d found cured meat in the cold box, and she’d fried it up, then scrambled eggs. She’d also taken slices of bread from the freezer and run them under the broiler. Beside them was a tub of butter and some of the preserves he’d bought for a treat.

She watched him eye the breakfast. “Is that okay?”

“It looks good.”

“Probably you don’t have so many things at once. But I thought we could celebrate . . . our marriage.”

Her saying that took his breath away. Their marriage. They hadn’t done everything a husband and wife did together, but he was sure they would.

Maybe she was embarrassed by having said that so boldly, because she flushed, then turned away and started dishing out the eggs.

“You want more coffee?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

He poured them both coffee and got out a crock of cream.

They both added it to the mugs, and she also spooned in some sugar.

He ate the eggs and cured meat along with some of the toast, butter and jam.

“Where did you learn to cook?”

“At home. On our farm.”

“What did your family raise?”

“Our cash crop was corn. We also had vegetables for our own use. We had pigs for meat and cows for meat and milk. And we also sent some to market.”

“Sounds like the right experience. But you didn’t learn to shoot.”

“Girls didn’t shoot. I guess you’d say there was stuff men did and stuff women did.”

“Well, here you need to be able to defend yourself.”

“From what?”

“Predators. And if someone invaded our property.”

“Would they?”

“I hope not, but you never know.”

She was silent for a moment, then asked. “You lived here with your dad. And he died in a mining accident?”

“Yeah.”

She made a low sound. “And you still work the mine?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t like that.”

“I’m careful,” he answered, knowing he was obligated to be more careful now. “And it’s a source of income most guys don’t have.”

She nodded, then asked, “How old were you when he died?”

“Nineteen.”

“You’ve been alone a long time.”

“I got used to it.”

“I hope you can get used to having company.”

“I already am.”

“Good.”

They both ate in silence for a few minutes.

When she cleared her throat, he looked up.

“Do you have time for a shooting lesson after I clean up here?”

“Yes. Good idea.”

“You made self-defense sound important.”

Not just on the homestead, he thought, as he flashed back to the awful moment when he’d seen Jerry Costa trying to take Beka away. What had the guy been thinking? That he could somehow get out of town with a gal who wasn’t his?

oOo

When Caleb went out to feed the stock and milk the cows, Beka turned on the comms unit and found the newscast.

This time there was nothing about the incident when the guy named Jerry had tried to kidnap her. And nothing about any other disturbances at the spaceport. But there was a general item about the brides arriving and going to the homesteads. And Selma Wayland had apparently already asked to break her contract.

Beka remembered Selma. She was a pretty girl who had complained about her life back in Morgan City. She’d been looking for something better, but she might not have understood that a homestead in the wilds of Palomar wasn’t the best place for her.

The observation made
Beka glance around the house. She’d told herself not to have expectations, but now she thought she might have lucked out with Caleb Raider. So far, he seemed to be a good man. Competent and careful and eager to make a good start with his new wife. And she suspected he’d gone to a lot of trouble to fix up his home before she arrived. It wasn’t exactly up to city standards, but it was probably at the upper end of the scale when it came to Palomar homesteads.

She liked him. She wanted to stay with him. And she was going to make it work.

oOo

Caleb inspected the vegetable house, making sure everything was running smoothly.

Then he set up a target against some hay bales at the far edge of the fenced yard. When everything was ready, he came in for Beka and two beamers.

“What do I need to know?” she asked as he carried the weapons to the makeshift target range.

“First, that it’s illegal to have a gun on the kill setting in town.”

“You mean like that guy Jerry did?”

“Yeah.”

“They didn’t do much to him.”

“They would if he had killed me.”

She made a snorting sound.

“This isn’t like the big city on Elmen. The laws are kind of flexible. And out here, it’s okay to use deadly force. But we don’t need to have full power to practice.”

“Okay.”

He showed her how to make sure the gun was charged and how to check the setting. “This little lever controls the amount of power,” he said, “See the red and yellow dots.”

“Yes.”

“Red is for kill. Yellow is for stun. Green says it’s off.”

“Okay.”

He’d set up round targets with rings of color and a black bulls-eye in the middle.

“The most important consideration is safety,” he said. “And there are four basic rules to remember. You treat any beamer as though it’s charged up. Never point it at anything you don’t intend to drill. Keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to fire, and be sure of your target and what’s behind it.”

“Behind it?”

“Yeah, like innocent bystanders. Or farm animals.”

He went on from there to talk about where she might carry a concealed weapon, and then explained how the weapon worked and how to check on the charge.

“It’s a lot to remember,” she murmured.

“Yeah. We can take a break before we do any actual shooting.”

“Can I see Caramel?”

“What’s that?”

She laughed. “Oh right. I forgot to tell you. That’s what I named the foal. Is that okay?”

“It’s good.”

They went into the barn and left their weapons on a bale of hay by the door before going back to see Silla and her baby.
Beka spoke softly and petted both of them.

“You like animals.”

“Yes.”

“We could get a puppy if you want,” he blurted.

“I’d love that, but not right away. Let me get used to your routine before we add anything extra.”

“Sure.”

They went back out to the targets, and he showed her how to sight down the barrel. Then he extended his arm and fired at the target, hitting the dead center.”