Page 44 of Igniting Her

“I did not punish you.”

“You shut me out so hard the whole station had to eat dinner around it,” Ellie said.

Cassie could see the long table: Teak talking without pause, Mo passing dishes into silences that didn’t need him, Priya positioned between the two of them. The crew had carried the pressure of a rupture they could not name. “That cannot happen again,” Cassie said.

“Which part? The argument, or everyone noticing you only turn into a glacier when I scare you?”

“Lower your voice.”

Ellie laughed without humor. “There’s no one here.”

“Then do it because I asked.”

Recognition crossed Ellie’s face. Her mouth parted, and the anger in her eyes sharpened into something else. “No,” she said.

Cassie went still.

Ellie took the final step between them. “Not tonight. You don’t get to hide behind the captain because the woman underneath her is frightened.”

“You know nothing about the woman underneath,” Cassie replied.

“I know she stood at a command post and imagined burying me.”

“Stop.”

“I know she heard my radio die and gripped the command board hard enough to bend its edge.”

“Ellie.”

The first name stopped both of them. Cassie had never used it in anger. She had barely allowed it in tenderness.

Ellie’s breathing changed. “I know she is the reason I drove here when staying away would have been easier.”

“You came here to fight,” Cassie said.

“I came because not coming felt like lying.”

“About what?”

“That this is still only physical.” The admission stripped away the last safe defense.

Cassie caught Ellie’s jacket in both hands and kissed her.

Ellie’s back struck the closed door. The impact drove a gasp into Cassie’s mouth. Ellie’s hands found Cassie’s waist, then climbed her back, dragging her closer. The kiss carried the office, the dead radio, the silence after the plaque question, every word neither woman would withdraw. Ellie bit Cassie’s lower lip. Cassie answered with enough force to make Ellie’s head tip back against the wood.

Cassie shoved Ellie’s jacket from her shoulders. Ellie dragged Cassie’s sweater over her head, exposing the black camisole beneath, and sent both garments toward the floor. Their mouths met again before the fabric landed. This was not the deliberate afternoon they had scheduled down to the minute. There was no folded towel, no water prepared beside the bed, no clean language waiting to contain what happened.

There were still choices.

Cassie caught Ellie’s wrists and held them against the door. “Do you want my control?”

Ellie’s eyes opened. Anger remained in them. So did trust. “Yes.”

“Even now?”

“Especially now.”

Cassie released her wrists and turned her around. “Hands flat.”