Fight or Flight (7 page)

He tuned out as Max talked to his mother for a few more moments. Then the ’com landed on the bed with a thump, and Max followed, crawling up to kiss Josiah’s neck as he ground against him.

“You can ask my mom anything you want at dinner tonight, okay?”

“Yes!” Josiah gasped as Max nipped at his chest, scoring a nipple with his teeth.

“Good. Fucking kiss me now.”

And how could he argue with that?

* * * *

Tirzah knocked on the door to Zeke’s office, the bodyguard he’d arranged for her trailing a few steps behind. They had agreed to meet to go over her testimony, but she couldn’t get her mind off the kiss they’d shared just days before.

The door flew open, and all six and a half feet of raw masculine strength greeted her.

“Hi,” he said, opening it wider to let her inside. After a murmured exchange with the bodyguard, he shut the door behind him.

Alone.

Suddenly nervous, Tirzah pressed her trembling hands against her belly, thinking of something, anything, to say.

“Hey, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

He came around from behind the desk and sat on it, tugging her closer and taking one of her hands.

“About the other day…” she began.

“Yeah, listen, I’m sorry about that. It was really unprofessional of me.”

“Oh, of course.” Tirzah’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. So that was how he was going to play the most intimate, unnerving,
confusing
moment of her very confusing life? Okay then…

“I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it.”

“No, I didn’t…”

“Oh fuck, this is awkward.” He took the hand he held and pressed it between his, his eyebrows drawing together as he continued. “I’m attracted to you, and there’s this intense energy between us. When you came in the room the other day, and you were frightened, I was too, and I was just so relieved to see you were okay, I didn’t think, I just grabbed you and planted one on you, and that was rude, disrespectful, and, yeah, unprofessional.”

“Do you do that sort of thing often?” She tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach when his hand traced over her own.

“No. I don’t date. I don’t … whatever this is we’re doing.”

“You’re my lawyer. That’s what we’re doing.” She realized as she said it, she was staring at his lips.
His perfect, full, delicious lips that had made me feel more turned on from a single kiss than I’d ever felt in my life.

“Right.” He tugged her closer. “But God help me, I’d rather be doing this.” He settled her hips between his legs, slid his hands up the backs of her uniformed thighs, skimming over her buttocks before resting his hands on her waist. “Won’t you kiss me, pixie?”

Tirzah stilled at his request. His erection pressed hard against her leg where she leaned against him. He stroked his hands along her lower back in the most delicious way, and in response, her nipples drew tight and hard against her uniform. She caught her lip between her teeth in one last moment of hesitation before she curled a hand behind his head and pulled him the last few inches to press her lips to his.

Just before their lips touched, her brain cataloged the strength in the arms that held her, the texture of his braids under her fingertips, the heat of his body pressing into hers, his scent: sandalwood soap. And then she stopped analyzing everything as his hands tightened on her waist and a groan rumbled in his chest.

A year since her husband’s death. Three years before that they’d married. How long before that had it been since someone had held her like this? How long had it been since someone had let her take the lead? Walter had always been aggressive in bed, even before he became abusive. Never had she had this much freedom to take what she wanted from a lover.

What she needed.

She pushed back against his shoulders, pinning him to the desk, and he let her. Straddling his lap, she nipped at his lips, teasing them with her tongue and teeth. She ground her hips hard into his as he tasted her with a desperation that matched her own. He slid his hands up to her shoulders before plunging them down her back to cup her buttocks. He thrust upward against her as she nipped his earlobe, kissed down the line of his throat, chasing the perfect taste of him along every exposed inch.

She slipped her hands to the buttons of his shirt, desperate to see him. His breath came in rapid pants as she slipped the garment back from his body. She stared at him as though she had never seen a man’s chest before—she’d certainly never seen a chest like this one.

He was magnificent.

His body seemed carved of ebony: smooth and hard. Her fingertips traced patterns in the thick, tight curls that speckled it, plucked at the dark brown nipples, all while he watched her with absolute tenderness and trust as she explored his muscled body.

“Zeke … you’re beautiful.”

His eyes closed and he sat back up, cupping the back of her head in his hands, spilling the pins that held her hair in place. They fell to the floor around them as his hands freed her long red waves from her customary knot. When his eyes opened, they seemed haunted by the same confusion she’d felt. It plucked at her heart and she crooned, her hands making a soft shushing sound as she stroked down his arms.

“Tirzah, may I see you too?”

Her body urged her to throw caution to the wind and just do it. Wordlessly, he urged her as well, pulsing against her in hot, hard thrusts. But the little voice in her head, the one still afraid, had pounced on this moment like a dog on a bone.

You’re ugly. Damaged. Disgusting. No one wants to see that.

“I can’t,” she whispered, scrambling to get away.

She stood, chest heaving with interrupted desire and fear.

“Pixie, please.” He stood, reaching out. “Don’t be afraid of me.”

“I’m not,” she said, shaking her head, but holding her arms out protectively between them. The fear danced in a tight little circle on her heart. “I’m not, I’m not afraid.”
Yes you are, and you always will be. Walter made sure of that.

A sob escaped her then. “I’m not,” she repeated, more to herself than to him.

She gathered her hair, twisting and tucking it back into place. Zeke bent over, collecting her hairpins. Quietly, slowly, he stood behind her and helped her secure them.

Clearly their interlude was over.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice tight.

She nodded as she turned to face him, nibbling on her lip. “Do I look okay?”

“You look beautiful,” he said.

He touched her hair. “Very proper.”

He skimmed a finger along her heated cheekbones. “The perfect shade of pink.”

He stroked her bottom lip, coaxing it out from between her teeth. “Like you’ve been kissed by a lover.”

He cupped her chin in one large hand, tilting her head so he could look into her eyes. “Forgiven.”

He smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before gathering her into his arms in a hug.

“Oh God, Zeke, I’m so sorry.” A sob racked through her as he held her gently, rocking her in her arms. He shushed against her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Tirzah, don’t apologize to me. I know what you’ve endured. Despite whatever wild lust we inspire in each other, you’re not ready to trust me with your body.”

“I want to,” she confessed.

“I think there’s a bit of a disconnect right now between your brain and your libido.” One corner of his lip turned up. “Do you want to talk about what scares you?”

“God, no.” She shook her head. “I want to forget what scares me.”

“Well, sex can definitely make you forget things that are bothering you, but what’s going on here—” he pointed to her forehead, “—is tied to sex for you.”

“I thought you were a lawyer, not a psychologist,” she mumbled, resting her forehead on his still-bare chest. She felt the chuckle rumble through him.

“Pixie, it doesn’t take a psychologist to see you’re uncomfortable getting naked with me.” He held up his hands when she protested. “It’s okay. Lust at first sight isn’t the same thing as trust.”

“When you asked me to kiss you, I wanted that, I wanted
you,
so much.”

“You changed your mind.” He shrugged.

She stared at him in disbelief.

“You can’t be for real.”

“Because I’m not mad at you for changing your mind?” He looked confused. “Tirzah, I would rather go to bed with blue balls every night for the rest of my life than harm a hair on your head. Your husband, if he made you think…” He swallowed.

A vein throbbed in his forehead, and she inched away from him. He
was
mad.

“I’m not mad at
you
,” he whispered, “I just can’t believe what a waste of skin your husband was.”

“He wasn’t always…” She stopped speaking as she realized what she was doing.

“Do not
ever
make excuses for him. What he did to you was inexcusable.”

“It was,” she agreed.

“So, let’s work on getting your life back, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Chapter 13

“I know why he hates her.”

Zeke looked from his desk to see Josiah standing there, a reader in one hand.

“Why?”

“She stole his thunder. He’d been working the police anti-piracy angle for a few years, and he’d intended for his friend, Walter Simonian, to run the flight through the nebula. For whatever reason, the brass picked Tirzah instead. That’s how they got her out here in the first place.”

“So? Guszak isn’t a pilot. He never would have run that flight.”

“No, but he wasn’t counting on what a media darling she’d be. He was hoping for the media to focus on his anti-piracy efforts and that he’d be selected for promotion to be Police Commandant over all of Solomon Territory. That mission was a small thing in her career—there was no advancement hinging on it. She received a medal and the thanks of the Fleet. It was supposed to be a huge thing for Guszak’s career. But then all the media focused on the gorgeous, red-headed pilot, and no one gave a shit about a middle-aged, red-faced police officer.”

“So he lost out on the promotion and blames her?”

“Yeah, and Zeke…”

“Yeah?”

“He’s the reason her abuse was allowed to continue. The warden Walter shot? The one who helped our girl escape? He had reported it several times. To Guszak. The reports were never logged into the police system. But Guszak can’t delete them from the warden’s records.”

“And he never could have foreseen the accident. He wanted this case closed quickly so no one would have reason to look. How did you find out?”

“He and Max’s mom are elders in the same church. When I found out about all that stuff with his promotion, I looked back to whatever else he might have done. I requisitioned the warden’s files, and the court officer was all too happy to open them.”

Zeke felt like shouting, jumping, whooping for joy, but he sat staring at the reader Josiah placed in front of him. Four different reports of improper imprisonment procedures. Five reports of illegal restraint. Two medic requisitions to the brig. All in all, eleven reports that had never been shown to him when he was prosecuting the case.

“This is good work, Josiah.”

“So, what are we going to do with it? We have two choices: we play nice and just do what we can to get her acquitted, or…”

“We’re going to nail him to the wall.”

* * * *

The night before the court martial, Tirzah, Josiah, Zeke, and Claudia gathered in Josiah’s quarters for dinner. Though they were all nervous about the trial that would convene in the morning, spirits were high and wine flowed freely. Tirzah found herself flushed and more relaxed than she’d felt in ages.

After dinner, Josiah and Clau sent her out to the sitting room while they cleaned up, refusing to let her help. When Zeke sat beside her on the chaise, she felt well fed and languid, and she rolled her head onto his shoulder.

“Good evening, Advocate,” she whispered, a light smile on her lips, craning her neck to look up.

He smiled back, his green eyes warm with something tender and full of sweetness.

“Evening, pixie.”

Pixie.
The way he said it, this nickname he’d chosen for her, made her feel tingly all the way to her toes. She stretched and sat up a little so she could look at him more comfortably. His lips were the most decadent thing she’d ever seen, and suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking about the way they had felt against her own. He was a damn good kisser; he’d made her feel alive and wanton and full of heat. Just the memory stirred up desire.

“We’re going to win, pixie,” he whispered, his brow furrowing. He’d clearly mistaken her silence for trepidation.

“I believe you. You and Josiah, you can do anything.”

“What are you going to do, once you’re a free woman?”

“The fight command test is held on Earth every six months. I’ll miss the next one, it’s next week—even if the trial ended tomorrow, there’s no way.”

“But next January, you could test.”

“I’m going to. I want my life back, the life I had before Walter.”

“That’s a good goal to have.”

“What about you? There was a lot of pressure on you to lock me up.”

“I’m going to pursue charges against Guszak. After that, I don’t know.”

“So you’re staying here?”

“For now.”

She mulled it over in her mind. In a way, it fit. He’d been brought here to prosecute her; clearly they needed a strong prosecutor on this side of the nebula. He could make a career for himself here.

“Isn’t there anyone—I mean, anything, a job or something—back on the other side of the nebula?”

“I could go back, sure. I’m going to have to, to tie up some loose ends. No matter where I end up, there’s always a need for lawyers. But for now, on this side of Solomon, I think there’s a need for justice, and I can help.”

“You’ve helped me.”

“I’m glad to have your confidence, but let’s not count chickens…”

“No, I don’t mean that. I mean, even if it doesn’t work… If they find me guilty and sentence me to the work camps. Even then, you still helped me.” She looked to where her hand had crept into his, resting on his leg. She didn’t know if she had ever been more aware of another human being. Every nerve ending in her body was alive and singing for him, and she was only holding his hand.