Page 79 of Trove’s Purpose

To him. To learning everything about him. To seeing everything as he did. To truly knowing his perspective.

“Show me,” she whispered.

Trove cocked his head. The action almost innocent and, strangely, endearing.

“Show you?”

She nodded, her pulse jumping. “Show me this great pleasure you speak of. Show me this ecstasy that makes them beg for you. Show me this part of you, Trove. I want to know.”

He continued to look surprised. Like he genuinely hadn’t expected her to give in.

But then his face softened and he rested his forehead down against hers.

“I will give you my very best,” he promised, and it was said with such achingly sweet tenderness, it almost sounded like a vow.

Chapter 25

Trove

This was such a bad idea. This was never going to work. She was going to see, she was going to understand, she was going to judge and ridicule him for the truth he would no longer be able to hide from her.

But if he couldn’t speak with his tongue, let him speak with his body.

If any of the others noticed them sneaking away, no one made any comment on it. Trove took Chee by the hand and led her up and out of main storage, into the halls of the ship.

One of the benefits of building the Vainglory by themselves was that they had been able to design literally everything. Including their own private rooms. There were limitations on size, of course, but they had been able to do nearly whatever they wanted within that limitation. They could make it however they liked.

Trove’s only real preference was that of comfort. His room was a private space where no one but himself ever needed to go. It was not a place he brought females. His crewmates were welcome, sure, but they never had reason to go there, so they likely wouldn’t go. It was his personal retreat from the world, and it was built to be exactly that.

Trove had put his room near the center of the ship, forsaking any exterior windows. He didn’t want them anyway. He liked the feeling of being enclosed. It was comforting, in a strange way. Like he was sealed inside, and therefore nothing could touch him.

Dim, shadowed – it resembled Rinnicks’ chamber in that way. But where hers was like a bower, filled with draped curtains and deep fog, his was spartan. No drapes, no sensuous smoke, no fluffy nest of pillows. He had a standard pod bed, the kind all starships used because they could seal in event of a hull rupture and protect the occupant inside. But it had one blanket, no pillows, and no excessive comfort. There were no sweet perfumes, no incense, no softness anywhere. There were shelves in the wall for his clothing, a desk for him to work at, and the sealed door to his privy.

That was it.

A place no female could possibly find comfortable. It was less welcoming even than their guest room – and he knew that because he helped decorate both. No fripperies, no decoration, no softness, no pleasant smells, nothing at all to nest with.

It was almost uncomfortable. And that was what he found comfort in.

When he looked back to see her reaction however, Chee’s face was blank. She was looking around, but there was nothing in her expression to say what she was thinking. And as he watched, she finished her inspection and focused back on him.

And gave him a smile that was full of nerves.

“I, er, haven’t done this before,” she reminded him. “I’m not really sure what to do.”

Trove chuckled and pulled her by the hands to his bed.

“You do nothing. You let me do it.”

“I mean, I want to learn how,” she insisted, giving him no resistance as he stood her there at the side of his bed. “I want to give you pleasure too.”

“The only thing you are to learn right now is your own body. You have given yourself pleasure, have you not?”

And though it was dark, he could see the heat rising in her pretty face as she admitted, “I mean, of course. I’m a virgin, not a prude. But that’s not the same…”

“Sure it is.” He reached his hands up and put his fingers on her shoulders. Slowly, he dragged them down. Just barely touching her. A soft caress. A primer to prepare her body for what it was like to be touched by another. “You are used to your own hands. You know how best to touch yourself. Which means you are used to responding only to yourself. It will be strange and different to be touched by me.”

“That’s… true…” she muttered, her eyes following his hands as he took hers and lifted them to his lips. He took his time kissing the tips of her fingers. Down the inside of each knuckle, then to her palms. She would be used to people touching her hands, but not the inside of them. This was already different and because of that it would already feel more intimate.