Page 26 of Journey to the Forbidden Zone

“Wet XenX” Carmen said. “Mila used my shower.”

Letitia spent several seconds sniffing, examining the scent. Her face screwed up in offense.

“Damn, that is some funky shit,” she pronounced at last.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly making thinking easy.”

Letitia moved closer, stopping just behind her. Carmen could feel the heat of her body, smell the faint, clean scent of ship’s soap overlying her own skin. A stark contrast to Mila’s lingering sweetness.

“Any closer to a decision?” Letitia asked.

Carmen barked a humorless laugh.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve decided we’re monumentally fucked no matter what we do. Zed just confirmed it. Jump-drive’s cracked. Trying to go anywhere is basically playing Russian roulette with the engine room.”

Letitia was silent for a moment. Carmen could almost hear her thoughts whirring. The moral outrage, the pragmatism warring inside her, too.

“So … selling her is off the table?” she said, fragile hope threaded through the question.

“Letitia, I came here to be alone, so I could think. I don’t know what to do. And you coming to plead your case again does not help.”

“Carmen, I?—”

“No, don’t make excuses or another argument. I don’t have the brain space for one more idea! I’m glad you can sit there in your moral certainty and see only one solution, but I can’t! I’m the fucking captain! I have to think about saving all our skins. I don’t get the luxury of ethical certainty.

“Maybe we should try to take her home, see if her family will give us a reward. Maybe I should see if we can negotiate with Maltese or Velasco. Hell, maybe we should hand her over to the COPS. Turn state’s evidence. We might get leniency that way.”

Letitia’s eyes flashed.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t I?” Carmen challenged, pushing off the desk, forcing herself into Letitia’s space. The need to provoke, to deflect the weight pressing down, was overwhelming. “If it meant keeping Sark out of a labor camp? Keeping Zed from being disassembled for parts? Keepingyousafe? What wouldn’t I do, Letitia?”

Letitia didn’t flinch. She held Carmen’s gaze, her dark eyes searching. Carmen couldn’t stand it.

“Stop looking at me like I’m the villain for even considering saving our skins!” she shouted.

For a moment, Letitia looked hurt, betrayed. The same expression she wore after Carmen told her they weren’t going to be a couple passed across her features like a shroud. Then her face hardened.

“I look at you,” Letitia said softly, stepping closer, “like a woman drowning. And I’m throwing you a line you keep slapping away.” Her hand did touch Carmen’s arm then, fingers warm and firm on her bare skin. “You need to come up for air, Carmen. Just for a minute.”

Carmen wanted to argue, but her counter died in her throat. Letitia wasn’t wrong. The coiled spring inside her was vibrating, screaming for release. The impossible decisions, the crushing responsibility, the fucking sweet smell clouding her senses – it was all too much. Sex was a valve. A way to quiet the storm, even if only for a little while.

Before Carmen could agree, before she could set the terms, Letitia’s hand slid around the back of her neck. Fingers curled firm against her nape, and Carmen found herself being pulled forward, Letitia’s mouth closing over hers.

Carmen’s eyes widened. Her hands came up – to push away, to establish distance – but Letitia’s tongue snaked past her lips, and the sweet, cloying scent hanging in the quarters hit the back of Carmen’s throat like smoke. Heat flooded through her, drowning the protest before it could form. Her fingers flexed against Letitia’s shoulders, gripping instead of pushing.

Letitia’s other hand found Carmen’s hip, dragging her closer until their bodies pressed together. Carmen felt the heat radiating through Letitia’s thin tank top, the solid press of her breasts, the hard muscle of her thighs. The kiss deepened – alltongue and teeth and shared breath. Carmen’s grip on Letitia’s shoulders tightened.

When Letitia finally broke away, they were both breathing hard. Carmen’s head spun, her thoughts scattered.

“I thought we weren’t doing this anymore,” Carmen managed, her voice rough.

Letitia’s lips curved. Her eyes invited Carmen into her embrace. Her hands found the hem of Carmen’s shirt, fingers grazing bare skin beneath.

“You think clearer after you’ve been laid,” she purred. She pulled the shirt up and over Carmen’s head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. “Just let me help you.”

Carmen stood there in her bra and pants, skin prickling in the cool air. Letitia’s gaze raked down her body, over the soft, brown curves of her breasts swelling above the plain fabric, the undulation of her belly, her hips. That look made Carmen’s breath catch, made heat pool low and urgent between her thighs.