CHAPTER 10
Force, she was lovely, Qui-Gon mused, brushing her full lips once again with his. Her lips were soft against his but unyielding – her inexperience was evident. He ran his tongue gently along the gap between her lips – she flinched slightly but opened her mouth timidly to his questing tongue.
He tasted moonwine, sweetcake and something ineffable that he thought of as Kila, and then pulled away when she gasped for air. "Breathing is a good thing," he teased her gently, trying to calm his own pounding heart.
"I told you I'd never been kissed before – I didn't know what I was doing!" Kila exclaimed, wrenching away from him and folding her arms over her chest defensively.
Qui-Gon pushed down on the angry retort hovering on his lips. "I was just teasing, Kila," he said calmly, tugging at one of her arms until the hand came free. "It was a lovely sweet kiss – I enjoyed it. In fact," he added, pulling her suddenly onto his lap, "I wouldn't mind another one."
Kila gazed down at him, her full soft lips working silently. Then she slid her hands into his hair and pressed her lips to his a little more firmly than he had done with her. Her tongue probed shyly against his lips and he opened them, letting her explore the recesses of his mouth, his palate, teeth, tongue.
She broke off when the need to breathe became paramount, sighed and pushed her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. "I love you," she mumbled into his neck.
He rested his cheek on her curly head and gave his thanks to the Force. "I love you too, Kila," he told her, tilted her chin up and dropped a swift kiss on her nose. "Now, I think you need a cup of kevas before I take you home."
"Oh! I haven't got my key!" Kila said. "I left it at Padmé's!" The older poorer parts of Capitol City still used metal keys for their homes instead of the retinal scan security of the newer, richer parts.
"Well, it's too late to disturb either Padmé or Dex," Qui-Gon decided. "You're welcome to stay the night." A flash of shy uncertainty made itself known in her eyes. "I have a spare room – it was Obi-Wan's when he was my Padawan."
Kila sighed and ducked her head once more into his neck, brushing a kiss against the hollow of his throat. "Well … all right then."
Qui-Gon smiled down at her, curled up in his lap like a trusting child, and kissed the top of her head. He joggled his knees slightly. "Up you get, woman – I'll make the kevas and you can find something in my closet to wear."
Kila chuckled and got up, drawing Qui-Gon's attention to her full breasts. Jedi or no, he was still a man – a man who found her a powerful temptation. "Come on then, old man," she said, extending her hand to his as he got up.
He tugged lightly at one of her curls. "Brat," he said in retaliation.
And Kila chuckled again. "Thank you."
FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE
Kila followed Qui-Gon into his bedroom, looking at it with interest. It was fairly simply in furniture and color – yet it suited him, being large, masculine and well-worn.
A holo caught her attention and she wandered over to peer at it, examining a younger Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. It was evidently taken the day of Obi-Wan's knighting as he held his Padawan braid aloft with a wide smile.
Qui-Gon smiled also, yet to Kila it seemed that there was an underlying sadness behind the gentle smile and proud arm around the younger man. She examined the picture with interest. Qui-Gon had changed very little in the last decade or so – except to become more silvered and distinguished. He must have good genes.
She brushed her finger against the holo-Qui-Gon's cheek then looked at a picture next to it. Of Qui-Gon at about the same age, he was accompanied this time by a small fair-haired boy with a cheeky grin and a snub nose. A son, perhaps?
She knew Qui-Gon wasn't married, but that didn't preclude him having a child. "Cute little boy," she said, picking up the holo and showing it to Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon smiled faintly and nodded his head. "Not just in looks, either – he had a generous heart, never thought of himself."
Had. Past tense. Kila frowned, realizing she'd poked her nose in too far. "I'm sorry," she said. "You should tell me to mind my own business."
"I'd like to tell you," Qui-Gon said, ducking into the closet and emerging with a large sleep shirt. "This will swamp you but you can't sleep in that dress – no matter how beautiful it looks on you."
Kila blushed at the compliment but chose not to dispute it. She almost felt beautiful when he regarded her so warmly, touched her so gently, kissed her so sweetly …
She took the shirt from him then slipped her hand round his neck and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "If it's too painful, you don't have to talk about him."
"I know." Qui-Gon smiled fully at her this time and returned the light kiss. "I let go of my grief a long time ago – but I would like you to know about him. He doesn't deserve to be forgotten."
"Someone once said that our dead aren't dead until we forget them," Kila said, looking once more at the laughing youngling. He looked vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "So, he'll never be dead to you because you'll never forget him."
Qui-Gon smiled and nodded his head. "And I will meet him again when I become one with the Force."
"Not for many years, I hope," Kila said. "I'd rather like it if you stayed around a good while longer." She led the way out of the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. "I'll make the kevas – it's the least I can do for landing on your doorstep the way I did."
Qui-Gon flashed her a grin and brushed her lips with his. "Oh, I think I've already been paid adequately for my hospitality," he offered with a droll wink.
"Big flirt," Kila accused, filling a pot with kevas and switching on the heating unit.
"Little flirt," Qui-Gon shot back, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her head.
Kila chuckled. "You know; I don't think I even knew how to flirt before I met you. You must bring it out in me."
"Natural talent," Qui-Gon replied. "The best teacher in the galaxy can't bring out what isn't there." He pushed aside her curls and bestowed a light kiss to the nape of her neck.
Kila shivered and, for an instant, was sorely tempted to drag him into the bedroom and find out what she'd been missing all these years. However, the rational part of her knew that she was nowhere near ready for that kind of intimacy.
She finished making the kevas, trying to remain unaffected as those soft lips explored her neck. "Oh, khest," she said after many seconds, giving it up as a bad job. She slammed the cups back down, turned in the man's arms, put her hands to his face and fitted her lips to his.
He seemed surprised for a second, but followed her lead willingly. Smiling against her lips, he wrapped his arms tightly around her, lifting her off her feet as their lips burned against each other.
Less than half an hour earlier, Kila had timidly allowed him to brush his lips against hers – now she positively reveled in their dueling lips and tongues.
How could this one man make her feel so much?
FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE
Smiling against her full lips, Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around Kila's delightfully curvy body and pulled her up against him as his tongue sought entrance to her sweet mouth.
Sweet, sharp-tongued, witty, passionate … the men here were indeed fools, he mused as her tongue met his, stroking, caressing, doing battle. He'd been with women who were vastly experienced – but hadn't responded to him with one tenth of the passion of this young woman. She was so sensual, so sexy … and completely unaware of that.
Gathering her more firmly into his embrace, he blundered his way to the settee and fell onto it, allowing her to rest completely on him as her fingers buried themselves in his hair.
He settled his own hands on her waist, stroking the indent covered so temptingly by what felt like Bothan shimmersilk. Unable to help himself, he stroked his hands upward, encountering the equally silken feel of the bare skin of her upper back.
"Qui-Gon," she mumbled into his mouth.
"Mmm?" he murmured distractedly, too engrossed with stroking her soft skin. He rolled them over then tugged open the strap of her undergarment and slipped his hand in, cupping a round breast.
"Qui-Gon!" She wrenched her mouth from his.
He looked up to see her wild eyes and swollen lips and his head fell forward with his shame. He'd done it again – pushed her too far, too fast. He cursed his adolescent behavior and pulled his hands away then got up. She rolled off of the settee and stood up, refastening her undergarment and smoothing out her dress with trembling hands.
"I'm so sorry, Kila," he said, hoping that she wasn't going to run away again. "Please … don't go."
Kila fiddled with her neckline and gave a shaky exhalation. "I'm not going anywhere," she told Qui-Gon with a small sigh. "Things just got a bit … intense for me." She sighed again. "Thank you for stopping."
Of course he'd stopped – he was a man, not a brute. "I think we could both use some kevas," he said, knowing that he would have to do some intensive meditation if he was going to prevent a recurrence of his behavior.
Kila nodded her head and went back to the kitchen. She filled the cups with the herbal brew and carried them back to the living area, handing one to Qui-Gon before sitting down next to him.
She tucked her feet up under her and leaned back against the cushion, closing her eyes. It pleased Qui-Gon immensely that she felt so comfortable already in his home. She looked like she belonged – and if he was fortunate enough, she would belong with him one day.
FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE
Kila curled up on the settee, part of her wishing that she hadn't stopped Qui-Gon. She'd never expected to feel such pleasure in a man's hands on her, and her newly-awakened libido was calling her all kinds of coward.
He took a sip of his own kevas then pushed a button on the nearby com unit. As soft music – Mon Calamari by the sound of it, though Kila was no judge – drifted out, Qui-Gon slipped an arm gently, almost tentatively, around her shoulders.
Kila smiled up at him, kicked off her shoes and cuddled happily into his big frame, closing her eyes with a contented sigh. "You know something?"
"Mmm?" he encouraged quietly.
"I've never been romantic but this feels … right," Kila said a little hesitantly. Why had it been easier to tell him she loved him?
He dropped a kiss to her temple. "Indeed," he replied. He cuddled her a little closer, heaved a sigh, and then said, "May I tell you about Anakin?"
Anakin …? Oh, the boy in the holo! "Of course," Kila said, tilting her head to look up at him.
He deposited a kiss on her lips, sighed once more. Then: "I met young Anakin and his mother thirteen years ago on Tatooine. He was a slave, working in a used parts shop. He and his mother offered me and my party shelter when a sandstorm blew in."
Kila nodded, not surprised. Growing up on Tatooine, she knew exactly how disorienting and deadly their sandstorms could be.
"Anakin – although only nine – was already a superb pilot and very strong in the Force. He wanted to fly the podrace for me – and if he won, his … owner would give me the parts I needed for our flyer."
Now Kila recollected the name. Humans rarely entered the Boonta Eve podrace due to their physical limitations, but Anakin Skywalker of Mos Espa had come close to winning at the tender age of nine. Gardulla had wagered a lot of money on the boy and had been enraged when he'd lost. Kila had avoided the Hutt for a week after that race. "He sounds like a nice boy," she said.
"He was," Qui-Gon said. "He turned down the opportunity for his freedom because I couldn't secure Shmi's – he didn't want her to be alone. Anyway … he lost the race, but made a bad decision. He took the parts from his owner's shop, was discovered and … executed."
"Gods! His poor mother!" Kila exclaimed.
"She was devastated," Qui-Gon continued, his soft voice becoming husky. "Force knows, she was a strong woman, but she couldn't handle the loss of her only child. She killed her owner and was executed by the Hutts a week later as an example to the other slaves." His broad chest swelled against Kila's arm. "I grew to love Anakin in the short time we had together – like a father loves a son."
Kila slipped her hand into his then leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You loved his mother too, didn't you?"
Qui-Gon sighed. "I believe so – yes – although it was a quieter, less passionate love than what I feel for you." He tilted her chin up to look at her. "Does this bother you?"
"No," Kila replied thoughtfully. "You're a good, kind, handsome man – of course you're going to have loved previously. I'm … glad you were able to make the Skywalkers happy – even if only for a short time."
Kila slipped her free hand round his neck and drew his face to hers for a soft – not quite chaste – kiss. "Thank you for telling me about them," she said.
Qui-Gon returned the kiss. "You're quite welcome," he replied.