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Beka was dead and she knew it. The only question was who was going to kill her first, Dylan or Harper, or Rommie herself, who had the edge with her current proximity. It didn’t matter who, though, because she deserved it. Almost definitely. She hadn’t been the one to start it, but she really should have put a stop to it before they reached the bed.
But she hadn’t wanted to…
She skittered away from that thought at the soft, careful touch of lips on hers. Like the person kissing her was trying to be welcoming if she were awake and not disturb her if she weren’t. When she opened her eyes, Rommie was watching, centimeters away. They were both still in the positions they had settled into as Beka slept, limbs twined together as if they couldn’t bear to stop touching— or, more practically, as that was the only way for them both to fit on the narrow bunk. She felt her cheeks warm at the memory of the night before in that same space. Before Beka could muster her thoughts into coherency enough to speak, Rommie shifted just enough to kiss her once more and she was almost lost all over again. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted this before last night, how much she’d needed an undemanding touch until Rommie had given her just that, had gloried in Beka’s willing reciprocation and response.
In the light of day, though? She knew just how bad an idea it was, had been and would be. That didn’t stop her from kissing back now, letting her hands slide over smooth skin and rounded curves. Bad idea or not, she wanted more, and Rommie seemed to as well, pressing her knee to keep her close. But she had to say something before this went too far again, and so she pulled back when the kiss ended. Rommie was far calmer than Beka would have been at the interruption. “We can’t.”
“Technically we already have.”
“No, I mean— I don’t know what you expect, and I’m not… good… at relationships.”
“Neither am I.”
“But…” Rommie’s fingers were moving again, inciting distraction, and it was hard to focus then. “But he was trying to kill you. I just don’t do long-term, usually.”
“I didn’t say I wanted anything long-term.” Rommie stopped the stroke over Beka’s torso, letting her think and, more importantly, listen. “I want more of this for now. I might want more later or I might not. But right now I want you.”
The intensity in those words took her breath away. She’d had men profess undying love less fervently— possibly because their love wasn’t undying and Rommie’s words held more truth than she knew what to do with. She touched Rommie’s jaw, her cheek, assessing her own wants before saying, “I can’t even promise later.”
“I’m a warship. I know more than anything that no one can promise later. But we can have now.” She kissed Beka’s fingers as they brushed her lips. “Would you?”
Damn Harper and Dylan. Damn herself, for letting this happen, starting down a path that could only lead to pain, and damn Rommie for that enticement on the way. Somebody was going to kill her for this, and yet she followed where Rommie led.