This is an unedited excerpt from my Science Fiction Romance coming soon from Liquid Silver Books. Commander Samantha Varde is the highest ranking officer on a spaceship transporting Master Sergeant Wilson Dex, a smoke jumper, to his latest mission to quell an out of control firestorm on a newly terraformed planet. The following is the third scene, the first with the hero and heroine together as they meet for their daily zap-ball game (similar to racquetball).
***Samy stepped into the locker room, like every locker room on every planet under every governmental system. Metal lockers lined the walls, seats in front of them for changing. A stack of clean towels next to the shower stalls and barrels for soiled linen overflowing. At least on her ship, she made sure the room smelled of cleaners instead of mildew, or worse, body odor.
Only minutes before her scheduled game, she pulled open her locker, keyed to her biometrics, and quickly exchanged her uniform for one of the seven neatly folded outfits she replaced once a week. Last, she slipped on ankle socks and specially designed sneakers for the zap-ball courts.
As usual, she kept her heart rate normal, her anticipation subdued, and her smile buried beneath her rank, until she reached the hallway door. When her fingers touched the cool metal to open court six, her flesh heated, her mouth watered, and her heart pounded in her ears.
It was like a sickness.
Never in her life had she been so utterly out of control of her body. To her mortification, she couldn’t stop herself from the daily torture. Nor could she make herself act upon it. Had they been dirtside – and who was she kidding? She hadn’t been dirtside since she’d left home at eighteen, twenty years ago – or perhaps on a multi-use station, she might have had a fling with him as a civilian. He wasn’t a civvie. Wilson Dex was an enlisted man. Under her command. Couldn’t be more off limits than that. Not to mention, he was too good looking, too young, and too risky.
When Master Sergeant Dex stood with his back to her on the court, she let out her breath and threw back her shoulders to thrust out her breasts. She caught herself and relaxed the rigid posture.
Deep down, she’d worried he wouldn’t come today, but even further down, deep enough she barely recognized it, she knew he felt the attraction as much as she did. With his back to her, she drank her fill of the dusky planes of his muscles, the skimpy, skin tight shorts that cupped his ass like a glove, and the tight T-shirt that occasionally rode up to show peeks of his flat stomach. The sleeveless zap-ball shirt showed his tattoos, a rarity in the military since most troopers kept a regimental mentality and look. Smokejumpers weren’t regimental. They were the enlisted, not the aristocratic inherited positions of the officers.
On one shoulder, a cross encircled in a wheel, filled with Celtic knots like the ones she’d seen on the other firefighter’s uniforms. The other tattoo, a dragon circled his bicep, hugged his cut, wiry arm that exuded strength.
With an abrupt turn, he faced her, the lines of his stomach flexing with the movement. The grin on his full but sharply defined lips brought her nipples to attention.
Thankfully, from long torturous experience, she knew her sports bra kept most of her excitement contained, at least from visual proof.
“Commander.” The rich, chocolate smooth voice sent shivers down her spine.
Breathless, as usual, she nodded and replied way too huskily. “Master Sergeant.”
***And then they get hot and sweaty! On the zap-ball court, of course.
Thanks for visiting on Excerpt Monday. Please take the time to visit other participants by visiting the Excerpt Monday June listing, or selecting one of the links below. All of these links were chosen for having similar language and heat rankings.
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