Chapter Nine: Getting to Know You…

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It was a vile chore and she despised doing it more than she hated him. Cleaning fish was smelly and messy and her fingers were nicked and sore from performing the task. Two weeks of what had become their daily routine was starting to wear on her nerves. Two weeks of being cooped up with him at night, freezing.

Hoshi swore he did this on purpose, leaving her for hours on end to go "fishing," and bringing back his meager catch for her to clean. He taught her how to fish yet wouldn't let her, saying how he didn't trust her with the phase pistol. What a paranoid ass!

They barely spoke to one another, and she found his economy with words astounding. If she asked him a question, he would answer her with as few syllables as possible.

A rustle in the bushes caught her attention and she looked up in time to see him walk into their little camp.

Scraping the fish on the edge of rock to get the scales off, Hoshi's hand slipped and she cut her finger again. Out of habit she stuck her wounded finger in her mouth and stared at the ground. It hurt! And she wasn't about to let the asshole see her cry.

"Here's another fish," he said, dumping a small fish onto the cutting stone and walking away. "After you're done with those, be sure to collect some firewood. The fire is dying down."

He was exhausted and irritated. He'd just spent three hours waiting for the damn fish to swim into the shallows. He'd even tried throwing stuff into the deep end to flush them out, but it just hadn't worked.

Glaring at his retreating back, Hoshi grabbed the fish he had just tossed onto the board and squeezed it. Her temper got the better of her and before she could grab hold of it, she saw the fish fly through the air and smack "Commander Reed" on his ass.

Hoshi couldn't help the smirk that crossed her lips as Reed turned around and glared at her.

"Pick it up," he commanded like a petulant child, pointing to the dead, now-muddied fish on the ground.

"No," she replied, tossing a half-filleted fish onto the ground in protest. "I'm not particularly hungry tonight. If you want to eat the fish, you can clean them, build the fire, and cook them."

He watched and groaned as she put her hands on her hips in a definitive posture. She was going to pay.

"Furthermore, I can't see why you don't let me do the fishing. Your method is asinine. You're wasting time waiting for the fish to come to you," she declared, taking a step back as he took a step toward her.

"Pick the fish up," he repeated slowly, his inflection almost an animal-like growl.

"Make me," Hoshi taunted, backing into a tree and feeling her way around the large trunk as if the tree was really going to stop him.

The challenge was issued and he lunged toward her, intent on punishing her.

Hoshi shrieked, dodging behind the tree to no avail. He still caught her by the wrist. "You're just bent out of shape because I can net more fish that you can. What's wrong, Malcolm? Are you afraid of the water? Can you even swim?" she teased, gasping as he shoved her roughly against the tree.

He half heard her taunts, his focus primal and his intentions scattered. He'd survived the crash landing with one nerve intact and she had finally snapped that nerve into pieces. It was time to shut her up. It was time to show her…what, he had no idea.

Lifting her foot, Hoshi tried bringing it down on his foot. But he nudged his hip between her legs, pushing that one leg higher and exposing her.

He had one of her hands pinned above her head and ignored her fist that was punching his chest. With a twist of his body, he trapped the fist between their bodies.

"Let me go!" she demanded, twisting her head from side to side.

Grabbing her face in his hand, he smirked. "Make me," he breathed against her lips, claiming them harshly.

She groaned her protest, and in doing so, gave him the admittance he sought. He deepened the kiss. As he did, he thrust against her, lifting her higher so that she stood on the tips of her toes. Her heady scent aroused him and a hopeful thought stirred in his mind. If I ever get off this rock, he silently vowed, I'm going to the nearest brothel and getting laid.

He moaned in surprise as she wiggled the hand caught between them free and laced her fingers into his hair. She was responsive and warm and judging by her movements and sounds…willing. Breaking the kiss, Malcolm smirked.

Her eyes were closed and her lips were still pursed.

God, how he wanted to strip her bare and shag her senseless. But he couldn't let her know how much their brief interlude had affected him. Pulling away, he lowered her to the ground and backed away.

She opened her eyes slowly, not courageous enough to meet his gaze. Her body ached in places she didn't even know existed until now.

"From now on, you can bloody well catch, clean and cook your own fish. Just as you can gather your own fruit," he stated, unable to hide the husky catch in his voice. "I'm going to have a ration pack for supper," he goaded and walked away.

--

If looks could kill, he would be dead, buried and decayed. True to his word, he had a ration pack for dinner while Her Spoiled Bratiness had some fruit. As it did every night, the temperature outside had dropped to below freezing and they were locked into the shuttle. She had monopolized all the cushions and extra clothes, leaving him with a hard cot and the clothes on his back and a thin thermal blanket.

Somehow he resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her when she turned to face the bulkhead in a huff.

"Goodnight, Your Highness," Malcolm said with an acidic sweetness to his tone.

"Go to hell, Mr. Reed," she retorted, punching the cushions for emphasis.

"You first," he mumbled, drifting off to sleep and banishing the thoughts of this afternoon to the darkest recesses of his psyche.

--

She thrashed against him, saying nothing, yet begging him to take her. He could feel the anger thrumming in the air, which fueled their feverish attempt to consummate their passion. He wanted her. He needed her.

Pulling the clothing from her body, he pinned her against the tree. Her shoulders were bare, as though inviting him to kiss them. He broke the deep, soul-searing kiss and dropped kisses along her jaw and neck and onto her shoulder.

"Please," she begged, arching into him.

He groaned, tearing the rest of her clothes from her body.

"I'm cold. Please…" she pleaded, wrapping her leg around his waist and offering herself to him.

With a blind lustful thrust, he claimed her.

"So cold…" she chanted and shivered.

"Mine," he panted, driving into her toward his completion.

"Bastard!" she spat, slapping his face.

"Do you want me to beg?" Hoshi asked, her lips trembling. "Is that it?"

As his dream gave way to reality, Malcolm sat up, his warm cocoon slipping and exposing him to the frigid air in the cabin.

"It's not like I'm asking you to give me the thermal blanket. And it's not like I'm asking you to get up and fix the damn heat…" Hoshi knelt in front of him, her jumpsuit bulky with extra layers of clothes. "I can barely feel my feet."

Malcolm stared at her, not really awake yet. "What?"

"I woke up and it felt like my feet were asleep. So I got up and tried walking around…" her explanation trailed off as she knelt in front of him. "Please…"

Malcolm pulled the blanket around her shoulders and got out of the bed quickly so she couldn't see his state of arousal. "Sit on the cot," he ordered, pulling the medical kit out of an overhead compartment. With quiet efficiency, he ran a scanner over her feet, set the scanner down and dug through the kit for the right hypospray. "This is going to hurt," informed Malcolm as he injected the hypospray into her neck.

She closed her eyes when he started rubbing her feet.

"Where are your boots and socks?"

"They were wet and I didn't have time to dry them before the sun set," she explained, wincing as heat suffused her feet and sensation returned.

"How long has the heat been out?" he asked, concentrating on the arch of her left foot.

"I don't know," she whined, trying to pull away from him but he held firm and continued to massage her foot.

Tugging on her foot, he frowned. "You've got to get the circulation back in your feet or you'll lose them."

Hoshi dashed the tears away, cursing. "I hate crying," she groaned.

"Then stop crying."

She bit her lip, knowing it was pointless to argue with him. She would either wind up crying harder and totally humiliated or she would make him mad.

"Why didn't you get the other blanket out?" He continued massaging her feet even though they were steadily turning a healthy pink.

"Th—there's another blanket?" she stammered, feeling heat course through her entire body. God his hands felt good.

Releasing her foot, Malcolm stood up and walked to the overhead compartment. "Next to the med kit." He pulled the blanket out and handed it to her. "I'm surprised you didn't found it in your search for ration packs."

His subtle taunt did not go unnoticed and she tried to stand up and go to her bed, but he pushed her back down. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked sharply. "I'm not done with you yet." He tugged his boots off and then his socks and pulled her feet into his lap.

"You need these more than I do right now," he said, tugging his warm socks over her feet.

She wiggled her toes, looking down at her feet. The pain had subsided, even though there was still a slight tingling sensation in her toes. "Thank you," she mumbled softly and limped to her bed, leaving one of the blankets behind.

He watched as she laid down and tugged the blanket around her, envious of the blanket. Without much thought, he pulled his blanket off his cot and carried it over to her bed, crawling in next to her and pulling her blanket around him as well.

"What –" Hoshi started to ask, but felt him shiver next to her.

"Most likely the damaged power cell finally gave out," he mumbled into her hair and put his arm around her waist. "I'll fix it in the morning. For now, we need to buddy up to conserve body heat…If you don't mind."

Hoshi relaxed against him and he pulled her closer, closing his eyes and trying to ignore his immediate response. Thank God she had layers of clothes on and couldn't feel his problem.

--

Opening her eyes, she winced. She must have spent the entire night sleeping on the shoulder she was currently on. An unfamiliar weight was settled around her waist and she scowled as memories of last night replayed in her mind. His warm breath tickled her cheek and ear and she felt a shiver go down her spine.

Yesterday's kiss had been…disturbing. Arousing, yet disturbing. She'd been kissed before, but nothing compared to yesterday. For that brief spell she had actually forgotten how passionately she disliked this man…how miserable he had made her life.

He had been cold, aloof and impersonal to her from the beginning. The perfect qualities in a bodyguard. Who would have ever guessed about the passion that lay under the façade?

Slowly, she turned onto her back and onto her other side, facing him and studying him. She bit her lip in contemplation and wondered. How old was he? Was he married? Well that's a stupid question. Of course he isn't married. That's why Jon was leaving her…to get married. He couldn't be her bodyguard and have a wife and family.

Malcolm's words their first day on the planet haunted her. He was suspicious of Jon. Was he right? Had Jon as well as Travis betrayed her?

Hoshi gasped as Malcolm stirred in his sleep, pulling her closer and inserting one of his legs between hers. She felt the same way she felt yesterday, like she wanted him to crawl inside her and take her to new… She shook the romantic nonsense from her head and scoffed. He hated her. She was amazed she was even still alive. "It would never work out," she whispered.

He opened his eyes, wondering why he was so warm and comfortable and fully aroused. "Bloody hell!" he grumbled and rolled out of bed, quickly crawling through the hatch and starting his day.

Hoshi stared at the hatch, her sense of romantic notions dashed. "I'd be better off falling in love with a fish."

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TBC