Chapter Seventeen
An hour later, Samara sank back against the seat in the narrow galley while Adalard placed their dirty dishes in the alien version of a dishwasher. She absently ran her finger along the smooth surface of the galley table as she watched him. Her thoughts were torn between what they had found and watching Adalard bend over.
Both are dangerous for entirely different reasons. The man definitely fills out a pair of pants in a very nice way, she decided with a tinge of amusement at her chaotic thoughts.
“You are making this very difficult,” he said.
She sheepishly grinned at him. “Sorry. I’ll try to think quieter.”
“I’m not complaining,” he teased.
She lowered her gaze to the table and absently continued to make figure eights with her finger. There had only been a handful
