This. This moment was all that mattered, right now.
He was hovering so close, just a breath away from kissing her. He was teasing her, drawing it out. The anticipation was delicious.
He was panting softly too. His hands roamed over her back, bare now; the sheet had slipped down.
She looked into his eyes. They were boring into hers, hungry and questioning. He was waiting for her to say this was ok.
She leaned into him, just the slightest movement, her hands finding their way to touch him, his bearded face, his shoulder. He reacted instantly, pulling her hard against him, covering her mouth with his.
Kissing wasn’t nearly enough. She clutched at him, trying to get closer. The angle was all wrong. Sitting perched on the edge of the high mattress was awkward.
His hand slid up to her bare breast and she gasped against his mouth. Gently, reverently, he kneaded and squeezed and lightly brushed his thumb over her nipple.
She pulled ineffectually at the filmy tunic that was keeping his skin from her.
He broke off the kiss and stood, pulling the tunic over his head. He dropped it to the floor, and came back to her, pushing her back and scooping her legs up onto the bed in a swift, practiced motion.
He rested his hip on the bed, his hand skimming her skin. His eyes roved over her body. They seemed to devour her. It was a heady feeling.
The evidence of his desire pressed firmly against her thigh.
She experienced a moment of disquiet. The only man she’d ever been with had been Brian and that was a long time gone now. Alan was athletic. His body was firm. She was out of practice, out of shape, and accustomed to a mindless succession of uneventful missionary. She wondered if she could be the kind of lover he wanted.
He dispelled her fears instantly. He touched his nose to hers playfully and kissed her hard and deep, his tongue swirling around hers, while he slowly ran his hand up her thigh, pushed her leg aside, and cupped her. His touch wasn’t greedy or callous, but reverent with an aching sweetness that seemed counter to his nature.
She arched against his hand and let out a whimper. His caress was gentle, insistent and, precisely targeted for maximum impact. Leave it to the engineer to know how things worked.
Was this an indication of the kind of care and sensitivity she could expect from him? If so, she’d underestimated him utterly. She was so overwhelmed that she was unable to do much more than cling to him, as his fingers and lips played over her, until she was at the very edge of it, trembling and gasping with it.
She opened her eyes to find him contemplating her unguarded expression with a hint of a smug smile on his lips. A giggle bubbled up out of her, unbidden. She ran her hands over his back, restlessly, putting pressure on him, trying to pull him into position.
He resisted, his fingers sliding in her slippery wetness, his tongue rasping over a nipple. She put her hand over his, stilling its movement and the incipient waves that were imminent. She captured his mouth in a kiss and took him in her hand to increase his sense of urgency. “I’m so close,” she moaned against his lips. “Please, Alan, come with me.”
He moaned against her neck, a guttural sound that made her pulse race even faster, then complied without further prodding. It was just the two of them. There was nothing else.
His eyes locked with hers as he slipped inside. It felt entirely new, more intensely gratifying than ever before. He held his body high and, glancing between them, slowly moved, the length of him dragging over her sex.
Her legs trembled. She arched, crying out, heedless to who might hear, as she shuddered with potent, chaotic spasms.
She gasped for breath. Still, he watched, nostrils flaring, jaw set, sharp eyes penetrating. He picked up the pace.
She rocked to meet each thrust, every sensation heightened, building already, again, to the next peak.
He buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder, clasping her closer, grunting, pumping, tracking her ascent, until he drove them both over the edge, together.
He stayed in place, his weight pleasantly pressing on her, and kissed her fervently. He rested his forehead against hers and choked out, “We thought…I thought. Oh, fuck, Jane. I thought I’d lost you before I could ever even have you.”
Anguish? From Alan Bergen? Over her?
He smoothed her hair. She searched his bloodshot, watery eyes and saw truth staring back at her.
She didn’t know what to say.
“Alan, I’m ok. Everything’s going to work out. We just have to trust him. It’s the only way.”
His lips tightened and he slid to her side, one hand left possessively at her waist. “Yes. I see that. At what cost, Jane? What does he want from you?”
“I—I’m not sure what you mean. He’s trying to protect us, keep us alive.”
His expression turned fierce. “He wants more than that and you know it! What’s he telling you, right now? Did he just…?” His expression shuttered down and he sank heavily onto the bed, one hand capturing one of hers, squeezing hard.
She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see his angst. It didn’t look right, didn’t settle right over his features. She didn’t like seeing him so uncertain. She wanted to see him smirking, confident, strong.
“He’s not here right now,” she murmured, shrugging self-consciously. Why did she feel guilty? Ashamed?
“Tell him to take us home, Jane.” There was a plaintive note in his voice that didn’t belong there, not when he seemed so sure of himself half an hour before.
“He can’t. It’s not possible. Can’t you and Gibbs figure out how to fly it?”
“I wish. I’m in fucking alien-preschool, Jane. That’s not happening. Some of this shit’s organic or something. We could die of old age before I figure this shit out. We brought a fucking lot of computing power, but I don’t have a clue where to begin to interface it.”
So much cursing. That meant he felt supremely frustrated. If the situation weren’t so awful, she’d be smiling at the sound of it.
She rolled to her side and slid her hand reassuringly over his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”
His blue eyes roved over her face. “Will we? Before we turn into zombies? Before Bravo shows up and nukes us? Do you have a plan, Jane?”
A plan? A chill swept through her, clammy and uncomfortable. Her heart thudded, heavy and dull. She resisted the urge to press herself against him, to cling to him for warmth and security. Their roles were decidedly non-traditional at the moment and tipping the balance back in that direction now was not the right thing to do.
He was asking her to lead them. Command had never been her goal. Duty, honor, altruism, self-sacrifice. Those were qualities she knew she possessed. But good leadership required something intangible that she couldn’t define.
NASA believed her capable before they’d even met her. They’d construed her reservations as humility. Perhaps they thought her personality was a good counterpoint to Bergen’s raging hubris.
Had she deceived them somehow? That had never been her intent. She’d just…dammit…she’d just wanted to go on an adventure.
And, her conscience told her, she could see now that the draw would never have been as strong if they hadn’t sent Alan to persuade her. During those early days in Houston, she’d vacillated wildly as she strove to make her decision. She had moments, certain she was going to walk away, hop a plane home, and dismiss the notion as a ridiculous whim. Then they’d escort her through some building and she’d spy Alan working, his massive intellect broadcasting like a beacon. He’d intrigued her almost as much as the mission.
“Jane?” His voice was husky, hoarse, and he didn’t meet her gaze. He was looking down, watching his own fingers trailing languidly over her skin. She’d always longed for someone to touch her that way—possessively, adoringly. It was intoxicating. He could do that forever.