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went back up, noting her hand digging into her hip, the tips of her fingers white as well. A pulse hammered in the delicate hollow of her throat, and the look in her green eyes said she was waiting for him to toss her out into the night. Which he should. Put her back on that cruiser and send her wherever the seven hells Stark had found her. Let her get busy seducing some other man. He wasn’t some fool who couldn’t find a woman if he was in the market for one—which he was not.
    “I don’t need you to pimp for me, Logan.”
    “Taara’s not only experienced at showing a man how to find pleasure, she’s a nice woman. You’ll enjoy her visit in more ways than one. Even chat, something you can use more practice with.”
    He didn’t want to chat with this enticing creature. Unless it was with hand signals, like ‘Come here’ or ‘Lift that short skirt and show me what’s underneath’. Which was not going to happen.
    He’d been trained in celibacy. It was what he knew and what he understood. Females and how to deal with them except as employees or business equals, he did not understand. Also, he neither wanted nor trusted physical intimacy—it carried the promise of darker things to come, of pain and humiliation.  
    Creed opened his mouth to argue with Logan, but his throat had gone dry, his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth.  
    His body too was frozen in place as surely as if he’d been cryo-flashed. Except it wasn’t ice slithering down through him, as insidiously and with as much intent as a sand viper, it was heat. Burning through his chest, every beat of his heart sending licks of fire out through his arms, hands flexing at his sides. Down through his legs, the muscles bunching, ready to pursue, to spring. And especially down into his groin, curling lazily in ever tightening spirals that were at once pleasurable and painful as his cock twitched and then began to stiffen, his balls drawing up tight.
    The heat of arousal. He’d felt it before, had been battling it back for years with meditation, with physical exercise so demanding it took all his strength, leaving none for temptation.  
    But in his sleep, he was helpless against the demands of his strong, virile body. He’d awakened many a time, sweating, trembling, his belly wet with his release, from a dream of some nebulous female.
    The woman standing before him was the embodiment of his every craving. She was real . All too real. With a mighty effort, Creed reached inside and found his calm, drew it around him. Although somehow he felt as if even that could not protect him now.
    “I’ll give you two a chance to get acquainted,” Stark said. “Treat her well.”
    Creed’s head snapped around, but his brother had already broken the link. Creeds took a deep, slow breath, forcing the tumult of anger, want and need deep down inside him, cloaked it in silvery calm and tied a knot. He was definitely gonna get Logan for this—later.
    He turned back to his visitor. “You can stay the night,” he said, pleased that his voice betrayed none of his disquiet. But then it never did. His training with the Zhen Monks had taught him nothing if not the appearance of control. “Leave in the morning.”
    She let go the wall to wrap her arms around herself, her green eyes now wide with ... fear?
    “I’m so sorry about—” she wrinkled her nose. “You know. Your boots.” Her gaze dropped to his bare feet. He went barefoot a fair amount, so his feet were nearly as tanned as his head and torso.  
    “Not a problem,” he said. “They’re in the cryocleaning unit.” He was still focused on her voice. Soft. As soft as the tops of her breasts. As soft as her skin looked, gleaming in the lights like pale gold satin. His hands twitched, craving a touch.
    “So, can I bunk here tonight?” Coy asked from the doorway. Her gaze flickered between him and the blonde, but her expression was bland. “Or I could sleep on the cruiser.”
    “We have plenty of