Read Online The Envoy by Ros Baxter - Free Book Online

long could he last? She was so beautiful, so sweet and warm and open, he wanted to plunge into her and never surface again. At least she had nothing to compare him to.
    Finally he could hold back no longer. He grasped her face in his hands and watched her as he drove into her. She matched his rhythm, driving back against him, exactly the right size, the perfect shape, the right match for him. Her cries grew formless and louder as her muscles tensed against him, and he felt her let go an instant ahead of his own release.
    He buried his face in her neck and grasped her buttocks in his hands as they moved together into some other place where bounty hunters and deserters alike could live long and beautiful.
    By the time it was done they had moved from the wall and were lying panting on the floor. He kicked open a stow with his foot and dragged a thermal blanket from the recess.
    â€˜Now,’ he said, running his hand across her belly and up to cup her breast. He had never seen or felt skin like hers, the softness of it. He wanted her again. ‘Before we start to kill each other, we need to do that again. The right way.’
    She sat up and hooked a leg over his stomach, pulling herself over to straddle him. She started to settle down against his cock and he groaned as he wondered how many times it would take before he could take it slowly, and how he would ever have the energy to fight her afterwards. ‘That was the wrong way?’ She frowned.
    She wasn’t trying to make a joke, but he laughed anyway. ‘No way.’

Chapter Four: A New Plan
    Reetor had lost all sense of how much time had passed. His whole body fuzzed and melted on the thermal blanket. Maybe this had been her strategy all along, to exhaust him and addle his wits, so he would have no chance against her in the fight that was to come. His stomach clenched at the thought. Could he really fight her, after what they had just shared?
    Could he kill her?
    It would be obscene to end beauty like hers, and all because she had no choice in what she had to do. It came to him again: there had to be another way.
    But he didn’t want to think about it yet. He just wanted to lie here, with her resting on his bicep, nestled in against his body, and run his hand down the silky length of her back, stroking and patting and imagining a life where she was his, and not promised to some Temerite warlord. Most of all, he wanted to know more about her.
    â€˜Who taught you English?
    She tensed against him. ‘Is this the custom?’
    He frowned. ‘Is what the custom?’
    â€˜Is it the custom to share information after mating?’
    He laughed, and couldn’t resist squeezing her against him a little. ‘Sometimes,’ he admitted, trying to find the right words to explain to her why he wanted to know. ‘When you feel close, you want to get closer.’
    â€˜We couldn’t get very much closer than this.’ She wriggled against him to underline her point and he groaned.
    â€˜If you keep doing that, we won’t be having a conversation about anything.’
    She laughed, drowsy and sweet. ‘You want more?’
    Did he? Hell, yeah. But he wanted something else first.
    â€˜I want to know who taught you English.’
    â€˜Why does it matter?’ She edged away from a little, and all of Reetor’s nerves jumped to attention. Was this it? Was she going to roll away from him and attack?
    He had to get this right.
    He cupped her face in his hands. This was not a ploy. This was not an attempt to win her over. He wanted to know, whatever happened next. ‘Because I’ve never met anyone like you.’
    â€˜No one has ever met anyone like me,’ she objected, her voice cooling. ‘Xhozei has never met anyone like me; that’s why he wants me for his collection. It doesn’t mean we —’
    He put a finger to her lips and with his other hand pulled her long frame against his. ‘I’m not