Will emotions boil over and physical needs conquer the reserve of duty?
So just who is Mr L'Wren James, first mate of the starship Sulaco?
Here's a snippet from 'L'Wren, Hawk and the Doves', a 27th March 2015 release form Breathless Press to tease you -
L'Wren James, ship's mate first class and the best subspace pilot to graduate from the Academy in twenty years, laughed and punched the captain—her Hawk—in the arm with one hand and stroked the other down his back. His skin was warm to her touch. It was smooth, with the outline of firm muscles gently defined in the soft shadows, and she wanted to touch it a lot more before their agreed "mission protocol" kicked in. Once that happened, their relationship would be totally professional and platonic—and would stay that way until the mission was over. She'd known this night had been their last chance for—well, who knew how long?—to be together in the way they wanted. And she wanted to make the most of every waking moment. Already she could feel the warmth of her arousal stirring as she caressed the edges of his broad shoulders. The heat in the soft green downy feathers that her race had evolved in place of body hair was already making its presence known between her legs. He'd definitely have a mutiny on his hands if he didn't find a way to subdue her stirrings down below.
And from Captain Saker Hawking's point of view as his first mate takes a shower in the privacy of his cabin -
Hawk lifted himself up onto his elbows and watched as she stood under the hazy stream of ultrasound waves. They flowed over the silky emerald sheen of her skin and the darker green downy feathers on her head and pussy. She was slim and curved in all the right places. Possibly slightly shorter and with a more birdlike femininity than an Earth woman and with longer, slimmer limbs, she was sexy as hell. It wasn't going to be easy keeping his hands off his first mate during the mission.
She stepped out, naked and dry, and grabbed her one-piece uniform from where she'd dropped it last night. He watched as her legs slid into the close-fitting catsuit. If anything, it emphasized her shape rather than concealed it. She pulled the sleeves on and ran her fingers up the self-fastening front, which clipped shut seamlessly. She stood to attention and saluted.
"First Mate James, comms specialist and pilot grade one, reporting for duty, sir."