A half hour later, she was ready to admit defeat. She'd had enough for the night.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
The voice was low, and it sent shivers down Elisa's spine, hardening her nipples instantly. She gasped, startled, and whirled around.
The man behind her was in his mid twenties, with long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck. His smile was wicked, and she had the insane urge to kiss the smirk off of his lips.
"I'm David," he said, holding out a hand.
Without thought, Elisa took it. His hand was firm and hard, with calluses that said this man was not unfamiliar with physical labor. "Elisa."
He raised her hand to his lips in a courtly gesture, and everything south of her waist melted into a puddle of repressed need.
"Charmed," he murmured.
She desperately wanted to say something witty, but his presence had literally struck her dumb. Eventually, enough of her brain engaged so that she could motion towards the empty stool next to her.
He took her unspoken invitation, and sat next to her. He was silent for a moment, and she shifted awkwardly in her seat. Then his hand slid across the top of the bar to cover her own. The mere sound of his voice had been arousing enough, but the electric feel of his skin touching hers was more than she could bear. She whimpered slightly.
Without looking at her, he spoke. "Do I need a tired come-on?"
She shook her head. He stood and offered his hand. Silently, she took it, and together they left the bar.
"I thought about selling her to a brothel, but I figured she'd make more money as a fighter."
"You made her fight?" Simon looked vaguely appalled.
Mal shrugged. "She's a better boxer than me."
"Way better," Zoe interjected, leaning back to allow Wash to apply the compress to her cheek.
"She only lost once. The guy wiped the floor with her. It was an embarassment."
"He was over seven feet tall! What was I supposed to do? Bite his stomach?"
"What is that I hear?" Mal said, hand cupped to his ear. "A sorry excuse?"
Zoe waved dismissively. "He's a fat lot of talk."
"*Flaunt* myself? By doing what? My job?"
"You are fertile, and if you bend over in front of me one more time, my opinions on crossbreeding will be merely academic because I will be inside of you making one of those aforementioned half-breeds in seconds."
What was the appropriate response to that comment? "Oh."
"*Oh*? Go put on something unattractive. Right now."
"Tyr, I'm wearing a shirt and pants, not a rubber dress. I'm dressed appropriately. If you have a problem with it, I suggest you go somewhere else." Her tirade ended with her poking the hard muscle on his chest.
In hindsight, that was not the brightest idea.
With a low growl, Tyr advanced on her, pushing her back against the command console. She bent backwards to avoid him, but all that did was press her breasts against his chest.
He nuzzled her ear for a moment, taking in deep lungfuls of Beka-scented air. "You have no idea what just the smell of you is doing to me. I want to rip your pants off, bend you over the console, and shove myself inside you until I am free of this longing that besets me."
Her eyes widened. Forty percent of her brain was outraged at the suggestion. The nerve of that man! However, the other sixty percent thought it was a very good idea and her hands were actually heading for her zipper to help him out when common sense temporarily took over and she kneed him in the groin.
He whimpered and dropped like a stone.
"Sorry, Tyr," she yelled over her shoulder as she fled Command. "But you'll thank me later!"
The doors swishing shut covered Tyr's grunted reply.