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assumed, continued to wait for his go-ahead.
    “Man?”
    “I thought we were knocking.”
    “Not yet.”
    He touched her gun. Amanda stiffened her spine and resisted the reflex to struggle. Wells pushed the rifle muzzle down and took one very brave step forward. It brought them within inches of one another and raised the temperature in the tunnel by at least seventy percent. She inhaled. Big mistake—she could smell his sweat, a faint hint of spice. Screw blushing—her face burned now and she had no way to hide it. Wells stared into her eyes and leaned in, pinning her to the wall.
    He might have shot her. Her defenses fell like a house of cards, and his hand on her gun rendered her weapon completely useless. He could have snapped her neck, could have easily knocked her hard enough to put her out of his misery. He’d be right to fire her ass.
    He kissed her instead. Wells leaned in, fast, and pressed his lips against hers. Amanda’s nerves lit up like a flare. Her body rocked forward into him, responding on its own, and Wells met it halfway. His mouth opened enough to brush his tongue against her lips. They parted and let out a soft whimper, enough for Wells to push the kiss deeper. He burned through her. Her skin flamed and tingled all the way down, under a layer of heavy armor, poly-skin and sweat. She moved her mouth against his and felt each flick of his tongue like a spark.
    Her pulse pounded, pulsed and moved her body on autopilot. Her free hand grasped at his shoulder, dragging him even closer. The arm holding her rifle dipped under the pressure of his hand. She arched her spine and pressed their chests together.
    Wells tilted his head, breaking the kiss long enough to catch his breath. His hands gripped her, one on her weapon arm and the other at her waist. He moaned low in his throat and brushed his lips against her neck. Amanda gasped. Not subtle in the least, but then, her whole body ached for him to touch her again—anywhere.
    He kissed her earlobe, breathed into her hair and ran his hand up her side to rest just under her breast plate. His voice rumbled near her shoulder.
    “Mark!” A series of tones played from his helmet, a code to open the prime minister’s door. Wells rubbed his body against hers, groaned and turned back into the kiss. He pried her lips apart this time, darting his tongue against hers. The tones continued. Long, long, short, changing pitch each time. Commander Wells ran his tongue along the inside of her mouth, sucked her lower lip gently and brought his hand to her face. “Amanda,” he whispered and then pulled away.
    She felt the cold rush in. Every inch of her body throbbed to touch him again. She looked and found his eyes on her, the lights burning inside them. Her breaths squeezed in and out, not bringing nearly enough air. Her gun sagged and threatened to slip from her fingers.
    Commander Wells grinned at her and the fortified door clicked and began to slide open.

Chapter Three
    Amanda ran through two full routines with the ship’s holo-spar program. The prime minister had paid them a bonus, given her his personal thanks for his safe rescue. Of course, he wasn’t the prime minister any longer. Happy customers kept them in business, though, regardless of rank. Amanda toweled off a layer of sweat and eyed the ramp that led to the suspension track. She still felt like working out, still had energy to burn.
    She could still feel the kiss.
    Time to run. She chucked the towel into her locker and shut the door. The track would do the trick. She was running out of ways to let off steam, and Commander Wells had definitely turned the pressure up on that front. He hadn’t said a word afterwards. She leapt up the ramp and hit the track at a jog. Not a damn word.
    Her support shoes banged a steady rhythm against the surface. It gave just enough with each step, dipped and eased the impact on her joints while still letting her dig in and let go. She sped up, pumped her arms and let her