complained Mason Lars, brushing his stringy blond bangs from his eyes. He rubbed them as if they itched from fatigue and he swallowed a budding yawn before it blossomed to fruition. “It’s three days out from leave and we ain’t even on The Discovery. Who gives out freakin’ missions this close to a...
He was clad in deep ebony slacks that skated gracefully over narrow hips and tight, hardened thighs, then down his well-shaped calves, stopping a hush from the tops of his equally somber shoes. A shock of extremely dark hair fell to his shoulders in a spiral of loose curls. Broad shoulders stretc...