Free The Sunfire by Mike Smith

accompanied most of the time by an older, very handsome Fleet
Officer. From what she had been able to ascertain, they were old friends.
    Sofia had therefore remained in the background while Jon
thanked the doctors, when discharged from the hospital. She wondered if she was
the only person who noticed how pale he looked and how each step looked like
complete agony. Yet Jon had always been a master at hiding his emotions from
others — except perhaps Paul. Sofia noticed he had kept
close beside Jon the entire time and recognised the concern in his gaze, one
that mirrored her own. Jon now occupied a similar apartment to hers, farther
down the hall. He had made it clear to all that her protection was still his
responsibility and therefore insisted on remaining close by. She was unsure
what protection he could offer as it looked like a stiff breeze would blow him
over at any moment.
    Glancing back at the chronometer, she observed it was now
very early in the morning and it was not just her anxiety for Jon that had kept
her awake these past few nights. If she was completely honest with herself, she
had become accustomed to the reassuring drumbeat of his heart while he had
remained unconscious. Ever since then she had found it impossible to sleep.
    Sofia once again glanced at the datapad resting on her
bedside table — the other reason why she had been unable to
sleep, for she had finished working on her first draft on this device only a
few hours earlier. It had been Jon’s comment about leaving politics to the
politicians that had given her the seed of the idea. She had spent the past
week in the Senate library researching historical records for inspiration.
Hopefully, what existed on that datapad would solve all their problems and give
Jon and her a chance to be together, something he had so painfully reminded her
was not currently possible.
    Finally, recognising sleep would not be forthcoming and that
there was no time like the present, she climbed out of bed remembering the
first time she had sneaked into Jon’s quarters late at night. Looking back at
the incident on the Imperial Star , many months earlier, Sofia giggled at
the memory of Jon’s look of complete shock and disbelief when she had pushed
back her hood to reveal her face. However, the strongest memory of that event
was how her mouth had gone dry when she had, for the very first time, seen Jon
in nothing more than a pair of shorts. She vividly remembered how, as she had
gazed upon his perfect figure, his sculpted chest, an unexpected bolt of desire
had hit her, leaving her breathless.
    Perchance the same cloak she had worn that night was resting
on the back of a chair in her apartment, one of the few articles of clothing
she had brought with her. Giving the datapad one more thoughtful glace, a
naughty smile spread across her face. I wonder what Jon is wearing tonight?
    Putting on the cloak and grabbing the datapad, she hurried
from her room to find out.
    *****
    As had become his habit of late, Jon awoke slowly, clinging
to the edge of a dream about Sofia. He was still half asleep and caught up in
the strangeness of the dream, when something halted his progress. Something
warm and soft, something that, when he reached over to drape an arm around to
pull closer towards him, murmured a quiet, satisfied sound. His eyes still
closed, he moved his hand leisurely down the length of it, only to have it
stretch lazily and curl its bare legs with his.
    Slowly, it dawned on him he wasn’t alone in his bed. So he
opened one eye slowly and, in the thin morning light that floated into the
room, he saw Sofia and heard the soft sigh of her breathing. He smelt the musky
fragrance of her hair and felt the heat of her body pressed intimately into
his. His fingers wandered through her hair, skimming lightly over the silky
strands before winding a single bright red coil around his finger.
    “Sofia,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. “What are you
doing in my bed?”
    She