Collision Course Read Online Free

how it transformed his face from tough and austere to flat-out gorgeous. His smile revealed a tiny dimple near the corner of his mouth, as though some hidden scoundrel lurked beneath the surface of the hard warrior.
    She had a weakness for scoundrels.
    “Get the damned bag,” she muttered.
    Surprisingly, he did. She remained in the cockpit, but as he bent and rummaged through his gear she was treated to the sight of his tight, firm ass. By Oshun, she wanted to bite him on one taut cheek.
    He straightened and caught her ogling his behind. She had seen some of the infamous fertility rites on Ruva Nu without batting an eye, but now she blushed. The look he gave her was questioning, faintly mocking. And yet…she wasn’t mistaken. His gaze met hers, gleaming with an answering interest.
    Without speaking, he tossed a bundle of clothing toward her. She snagged the clothes from midair before examining them.
    “Those better meet with your approval.” He nodded toward the garments. “Because they’re all I’ve got.”
    She held them up for inspection. The shirt was huge—if she wore it, the thing would come down to her knees—and perfectly ordinary. A little plain, actually. Same with the pants. Everything felt a little stiff in her hands, as if they were seldom worn. He wasn’t out of uniform often.
    Her tongue clicked in disapproval. “Terrible.” She threw the clothes back at him.
    He grabbed them and scowled. “What? They’re fine.”
    “Those clothes make me sleepy.”
    “So I’m not a fashion vid. That shouldn’t matter.”
    She snorted. “Where smugglers are concerned, appearance counts for a lot. It’s all about flash. I’m going to change when we get to Ryge, but if you stroll into Beskidt By wearing that stuff, everyone’s going to know you don’t belong. Then good luck trying to get any intel.”
    “There’s no time for any side trips to a shopping barge.” Irritation roughened his voice.
    “Wait here.” A few adjustments to put the ship on autopilot, then she hopped up from her seat in the cockpit. She spent an uncomfortable, arousing moment edging past him as she threaded through the galley where he stood. She and Frayne kept bumping into each other as she tried to get through the galley. They both breathed in sharply at the brief contact.
    She finally dashed out of the galley and down the passage toward her quarters. Once inside, she opened a storage panel, then pulled out a battered trunk. The thing was a little heavy, so she dragged it back down the passage to the galley.
    Frayne watched her curiously as she opened it. “There should be some things in here that will fit you.” She rifled around until she produced some shirts and pants. “Maybe these.”
    “What the hell are you doing with men’s clothing?”
    She shrugged. “Souvenirs and trophies.”
    He glowered ferociously. “I’m supposed to wear the cast-offs of your lovers?”
    “Not lovers,” she corrected. He looked almost relieved until she added, “I had sex with them, sure, but I kicked them out after a night. That doesn’t count.”
    “Sounds like a lover to me.”
    “A lover means sleeping with someone more than once. I never do that. Too much commitment.” She peered at him. “I can’t believe this is making you angry.”
    “I’m not angry,” he snarled. Yet he seemed almost surprised by his heated reaction.
    “So…” She shook a handful of clothes at him. “Find something.”
    She didn’t think the words that came out of his mouth would have been approved by the 8 th Wing Communication Council. For a few seconds, she almost believed he’d rather go naked than wear some of the clothes worn by her nighttime entertainment. Wouldn’t that make an interesting picture—Commander Frayne striding through her ship wearing nothing but his plasma pistol and boots. Her mouth became uncomfortably dry.
    His big hand lashed out and grabbed a few shirts. “I’ll try some of these, but no goddamn way am I going to