Stephanie Julian: The Bigger They Are…

“Have you climbed Mt. Everest?”

“Yeah, I have.” In a way she could never imagine. “So you grew up in Pennsylvania.”

Her lips twisted in a rueful smile and her gaze dropped to her root beer for a few seconds. “Yep. Never traveled farther than New York and Florida, though I have been to Las Vegas.”

And there was that intriguing blush again.

“Vacation?”

She paused. “Convention.”

His lips curved. He knew the reason for that blush. “The Star Trek convention.”

Her chin kicked up and she looked him straight in the eyes, as if daring him to make fun of her. “Best week of my life. I met William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy.”

He settled back into the couch with a full-blown smile. “I met them and Patrick Stewart and Marina Sirtis. Always had a thing for Deanna Troi. And Nana Visitor. I think it was the ridges.”

Her expression was a revelation. She looked at him as if he’d told her she could wear a red shirt and get a walk-on role in the next film.

God bless J.J. Abrams for ensuring there would be a next film.

Then she started to babble.

About how she’d been a fan since she was eight. How her cousin, a proto-geek who’d been building computers before most people had known they existed outside of top-secret government facilities, had introduced her to the classic series on VHS tapes that he stored in space bags so they weren’t overexposed.

How her parents had spent nearly a thousand dollars to buy her the entire series of classic, Next Gen and DS9 when they first came out on disc because she’d wanted them more than she’d wanted a car.

How she’d chosen her senior prom dress because it’d reminded her of one of the dresses in the Mudd’s Women episode. How she’d loved that they’d finally gotten a female captain in Janeway and how disappointed she’d been when the show had been canceled.

He lost track of the conversation a few times because the sound of her voice mesmerized him.

Good thing he knew his Trek , because he was able to weave in and out of the conversation without losing points for not listening. And he was listening.

Really, he was.

Okay, mainly he was watching her mouth. How she’d pause for a few seconds after every couple of sentences, waiting for him to respond, which he would. And then she’d smile when he said the right things, and keep talking.

Which really wasn’t a problem except he really wanted to kiss her.

So he was ready the next time. Watching for the pause, he was moving as soon as she started to draw in that breath.

He bent his head and stole a kiss.

Although, he didn’t think it was stealing if she didn’t seem to mind him taking it.

She didn’t freeze, didn’t pull away. Her lips remained soft and pliant under his but she didn’t return the kiss and he pulled back before he scared her.

As he put more distance between them, he held his breath, watching as her eyes slowly opened and stared up into his.

She looked shocked.

Shit. That wasn’t what he’d—

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her lips crushed against his.

She kissed him, hard. Her mouth moved against his with an enthusiasm that made him groan and pull her forward.

Her breasts pressed against his chest as he lifted her closer, her legs spreading so her knees settled on either side of his hips. With their height difference, she still had to tilt her head back to keep their lips locked.

His hands molded to her back as her mouth ravaged his. And damn, the woman could kiss. Her lips were warm and mobile and soft against his. He’d never been kissed so well that he was content in the moment to let their lips mingle and mesh.

Usually, he wanted to move on to the getting naked and getting laid portion of the evening’s festivities. Followed by the inevitable sorry, gotta go, call ya later part.

He had the feeling he wasn’t going to want to say sorry, gotta go all that soon to this woman.

Drawing in a breath, he let the sweet scent of vanilla from her hair and the peach from her skin sink into his lungs. He swore he could taste those flavors on her lips and wanted to feast on her as if she were dessert.

Then she opened her mouth and let her tongue stroke across his lips.

And he swore he saw rainbows flash behind his eyelids.

His groan echoed through the room, probably loudly enough to wake the rest of the guests, though he wasn’t sure anyone else had returned from the Mystyk yet.

It wouldn’t be long before someone found them, making out like a couple of teenagers.

Although what he wanted to do to this woman went way beyond making out. He had an image in his head of Jenna tied naked to his bed.

For some strange reason, he also had a vision of her in a short-skirted red Starfleet uniform and no panties as she sat on his lap on the deck of the Enterprise NCC-1701.

His cock throbbed behind the zipper of his jeans, and his hands moved up her back until he could sink one into the soft hair at her nape. He let his fingers wind through the short strands until he had a firm grip. He wouldn’t hurt her but he had a primal need to hold her tighter.

And she appeared to like it.

Her low moan made every hair on his body stand on end and he strained toward her even as she inched closer.

The height difference forced her head back even farther and he knew that had to be uncomfortable.

Besides, they were sitting in a common room where anyone could walk in.

And knowing the people who stayed here, they’d have no problem sitting down and starting a conversation while he had his tongue down Jenna’s throat and his hands up her shirt.

He thought about saying something like, “Hey, Jenna, would you like to take this somewhere more private?” But the words got lost in the wet heat of her kiss.

He didn’t want to stop kissing her long enough to speak. He was almost afraid she’d come to her senses, take one look at him and run screaming for her room.

Then again, the way her fingers dug into his shoulders like a mountain climber’s spikes heading up Everest, she didn’t seem to be thinking about anything but kissing him back.

And what a boost to the morale that was.

She wanted him. All seven feet and two hundred fifty pounds of him.

If he ever got her in bed, missionary position was out.

Of course, he wouldn’t be complaining when he was lying on his back watching her ride him.

Probably getting ahead of yourself there, hoss.

But now that the image was there, he couldn’t shake it.

He groaned into her mouth, his hands wrapping around her waist as he urged her closer against him.

She didn’t need much encouragement. In fact, she shimmied even closer.

And Andy had a brief moment to wonder when the piano might fall on his head before Jenna broke away with a little gasp and opened her eyes to stare into his.

“Wow.”

Wow was right. At least, he hoped she was having the same wow moment he was. Like, “Oh wow, that was a totally awesome kiss, let’s go upstairs where I will rip off all your clothes and ride you like a Christmas pony”.

And not, “Oh wow, I can’t believe I just sucked face with a guy who could bench press a car and might possibly be the love child of Andre the Giant and Brad Pitt”.

All right, maybe Robert Redford. He’d never been a Pitt fan. Dude had way too many kids and Angelina scared the shit out of him. She had more ink than he did, which wasn’t saying much because Andy only had one tattoo on the inside of his wrist because that sucker had hurt .

He wanted to ask what that wow meant but he knew he shouldn’t open his mouth. Knew he should wait until she said whatever was on her mind, because she definitely had something on her mind.