Trials 02 Harry's Trial Page 6

  on the ground beside her, scooting sideways under the blanket until

  their sides barely touched. She tossed half the blanket over him.

  They sat there for a few minutes, stiffly, with his left arm and

  leg pressing lightly against her right side. Warmth seeped into

  their bodies from every point of contact. It wasn't enough. They

  needed to be closer. A shiver ran through her body. Harry silently

  prayed for wisdom and the right words. "Malista, if I put my arm

  around you, we could---uh------"

  "Okay." She leaned forward a little. He slipped his left arm

  around her shoulders and cautiously turned her body toward him,

  pulling her tighter to his side. She slowly lowered her head to rest

  on his shoulder, curling her long legs up next to his outstretched

  legs. She scooted her right arm around his back and held him to her

  as their shivering slowly subsided.

  Malista didn't seem to know what to do with her left hand. She

  caught the edge of the blanket and drew it up over them more

  securely, then cautiously rested her hand on his chest. She could

  feel his heartbeat under her palm. It felt so---reassuring. She

  could count the beats. She spread her fingers to increase the

  contact. She closed her eyes.

  Harry gulped. That was easier than he'd expected. At last, he

  was warm again. He was glad she wasn't afraid of him. At least, he

  thought he was glad. He was beginning to think she thought of him as

  a teddy bear.

  'Cute little Harry,' he thought disgustedly. 'Oh, no, he's not

  dangerous. A safe date. But if she calls me cute, I may have to hit

  her. Yeah, right, Harry. You couldn't hit a woman. Especially not

  this woman. She's suffered enough for a lifetime. And she's only---

  how old is she? Twenty-four? Never ask a woman her age. But still,

  she better not call me cute. I hate cute! It took me six months to

  convince Libby not to call me cute.'

  His mental monologue was completely driven out of his head as

  Malista threw her left leg over his thighs. Her right leg pressed up

  against the side of his legs and hip. "Aren't your legs cold?" she

  mumbled into his chest. "They felt cold. Is this helping?"

  "Oh, yeah, that's better," Harry choked, trying to mentally

  recite the Operations Stations command routes in order of importance.

  Anything to help him forget that he was surrounded by a warm, willing

  woman---no, not willing. Trusting. She trusted him not to---act on

  his instincts.

  Oh, wow, had she gotten prettier in the last few days? When he'd

  first seen her picture, he'd thought she was plain. He didn't

  remember her being this attractive when he first met her either. She

  didn't seem so tall, curled around his body as she was now.

  "Harry?" She was puzzled by his silence and tilted her head up

  to gaze at his face, just inches from her own.

  He glanced down at her and found his dark eyes locked onto her

  green ones. She had beautiful eyes---cat-like eyes. Mysterious eyes.

  Almost slanted. Her lashes were so long and curly. Her cheekbones

  were high and her lips pink and moist. Her skin looked so soft, so---

  kissable---so touchable---*No!* No, no, no! No touching!

  "Yes, Malista?" His voice cracked as he spoke her name. He

  couldn't believe it! That hadn't happened since he was fifteen.

  "Harry, are you all right?" she asked, concern touching her

  expression and her voice.

  "Oh, yeah," he muttered, bringing his free hand up to wipe his

  brow. Beads of sweat were forming, in defiance of the cold air around

  them. She was tensing up.

  He had to stop acting like a randy teenager or he'd scare her again.

  'Get your mind back above your waist, Harry,' he told himself.

  "I'm fine, Malista. Are you okay?" Tom would kill him if he

  scared her back into her shell. If B'Elanna didn't kill him first.

  "You don't seem all right," she commented. "If I'm making you

  feel uncomfortable, I can move back--- " She started to pull away.

  He held onto her. "No! It's okay. Don't move." Her every

  movement seemed to intensify his awareness of her and his desire for

  her and to stimulate---his imagination.

  She froze. She peered up at his face, curiously. "Why?"

  He cast his eyes heavenward. "Why me, Lord?" he called

  plaintively. "Is this some kind of trial? Is this a test?"

  "Harry, you're acting really weird," Malista commented

  cautiously, not sure what he was upset about and not wanting to make

  it worse.

  "We're Starfleet officers. Weird is part of the job," Harry

  quoted. He made the mistake of looking at her face. His eyes became

  ensnared in hers again.

  "Harry, what's going on? Did you hit your head, too?" Her eyes

  were innocent. So innocent. Harry had never met a girl above the age

  of ten with eyes that innocent. He felt like a total heel. She really

  didn't realize the affect she had on him. Maybe he should warn her.

  If she behaved this way with anyone else, she might be in big

  trouble. Of course, she wouldn't behave this way, this trustingly

  with anyone else.

  'Trust. That's the key word here, Harry,' he thought. 'She

  trusts you because---why? Why?! Because she doesn't *know* any

  better! That's why! If she could read your mind right now, she'd know

  you're half a step from a *sex fiend*! She'd scream blue murder! Stop

  looking at her lips, stupid! You'll kiss her if you don't stop

  looking right now! Who knows what that might lead to? Don't think

  about it, idiot! You're making it worse!'

  He licked his dry lips and tore his gaze away from her to stare

  at the fire. He tried not to breathe too deeply. The scent of her

  perfume or body lotion or whatever it was---oh, that sweet, spicy

  scent was driving him slowly insane! 'Body lotion? Oh, the image

  that conjured---! Stop it! Stop it right *now*!' he mentally yelled at himself.

  She'd felt so relaxed, but now Harry was---she didn't know what

  he was. She wanted to identify the problem. She and Harry needed to

  be friends, to keep Tom and B'Elanna happy, if for no other reason.

  She didn't want her silly reaction earlier to cause trouble between

  them. Maybe he was angry because she'd been afraid of him?

  'Duh, Malista,' she thought, 'Any man would resent someone

  being afraid of him for no reason. It's an insult.'

  She tried again, "Harry? Tell me what's wrong. I didn't mean to

  hurt your feelings or make you uncomfortable."

  'Oh, Kahless, now she's apologizing to me?' Harry thought,

  borrowing an epithet from Torres.

  "Malista, I know you don't have a lot of experience---with men,

  I mean." His words screeched to a halt as he kept his eyes firmly

  fixed on the fire, trying to sense her reaction by the feel of her in

  his arms. "I don't want to scare you---but being close to you is---

  causing---a reaction---a physical reaction. It would help me a lot if

  you'd stay---really---really---still."

  Her eyes widened with astonishment, she pulled her head back so

  she could study his face carefully. "You mean you---I thought earlier

  it was beca
use you were asleep?"

  "What?" He had to see her face. He couldn't understand what she

  meant. He tore his gaze from the fire to study her expression.

  "I mean, you're awake now. You know who I am," she added.

  His brow furrowed. "What has that got to do with it?"

  "Well, you're not attracted to me," she explained simply as if

  that were the most obvious notion in the universe.

  He snorted in disbelief. "What gave you that idea?" He felt her

  start of surprise. "You're an attractive---no, a lovely woman. Why

  wouldn't I be attracted to you?"

  "You don't even like me!" she exclaimed. "How could you be---how

  could you want---" She broke off in confusion, her stare demanding

  an explanation. Her confusion only deepened when Harry laughed.

  "I thought I was the most naive person on Voyager," Harry said,

  chuckling. "But I think you just stole my title." He tried to wipe

  the smile off his face and answer a serious question seriously, but

  her innocent assumption amused him. "Malista, liking someone has

  nothing to do with wanting someone. Well, no, I take that back. I

  mean you can like someone without wanting them---or you can sometimes

  want someone without liking them very much. It can be just a

  physical---oh, murder! I can't believe I'm having this conversation.

  Didn't your mother tell you anything!?"

  "My mother died when I was nine," she replied solemnly. "I'm

  sorry, Harry. I know you must think I'm stupid. I never was

  interested in anyone---not enough to want to---you know---before I

  joined the Maquis. Then after Huldon III, I didn't want anyone near

  me. I don't know much about men. Or sex. I never asked before,

  because I didn't think---"

  "What?" He smiled at her with gentle concern. Maybe she felt

  comfortable asking him because they were both too tired to feel

  inhibited. Maybe it was because they were alone and likely to be

  alone for several hours so there was no chance of being overheard or

  interrupted.

  'Harry Kim, Sex Education Instructor?' he thought. 'Now that's a

  laugh riot. But, why not?' Somebody needed to answer her questions

  and he was the only one available right now.

  "I didn't think I'd ever need to know. I mean, I didn't think it

  was going to come up," she said, gazing at the fire. She put her head

  back down on his shoulder.

  He unconsciously began stroking her back with his right hand in

  a gesture of comfort. "It's okay, Malista. I've been asking questions

  since I boarded Voyager. Maybe it's my turn to answer a few. You

  can ask whatever you want. I'll do my best to answer you, but

  honestly, I have limited experience myself."

  He felt her smile against his chest. "Thank you, Harry---Now I

  can't think of anything to ask." She was trying not to laugh. Without

  thinking, she was tracing random patterns on the ensign's chest with

  her index finger as if doodling with a pen or stylus.

  It tickled---but it was also---stimulating. He smiled. "Well,

  how about if we go back a few subjects?"

  "Mmm?"

  "What in the world made you think I don't like you?"

  She shrugged and declined to answer.

  "Malista? I do like you. I think you're pretty. You're

  intelligent. You have a good sense of humor. You're attractive---"

  "What does that mean? To a man? Attractive?"

  "Whew! You can ask some hard questions. It means different

  things to different people. You've heard the expression 'Beauty is

  in the eye of the beholder'. What attractive is---well, it changes

  from person to person. It's subjective. As for what it means when a

  man says you're attractive---it usually means he's physically

  attracted to you. He would like to get to know you better. Maybe more

  than that. It depends on the context," Harry stated, hoping his

  fumbling explanations wouldn't confuse her. He'd never thought much

  about this topic, much less had to put it into words for someone who

  knew less than he did.

  "What does it mean to you?" she whispered. "Am I really

  attractive? To you? No, don't answer that!" Unconsciously her arms

  tightened around him, as if she was afraid to hear his answer. Afraid

  it would be yes? Or afraid it would be no?

  Harry's hand cupped her chin and tilted her face up to his. "I

  have a hard time understanding why you don't think you're attractive.

  Don't you have a mirror? To answer the question, yes. You are

  attractive to me. Very attractive---to me." His thumb traced the line

  of her cheekbone. Her skin was soft. And smooth and---warm---and---

  "You don't look at me the way the other men do," she commented,

  her bewilderment easily read in those green eyes.

  His dark eyes narrowed. "What other men?" She tried to pull away

  from his hold, but he refused to let her retreat. "What other men?"

  he repeated.

  "Ensign Natwick. Some of the men I work with. Men I see in the

  corridors of the ship or in the mess hall. Especially when I'm alone."

  He let go of her chin and she let her head sink back down onto

  his shoulder. "How do they look at you?" Harry felt a need to know. A

  green-eyed imp of jealousy was at his shoulder, egging him on. He

  told himself he only wanted her point of view. He'd seen how some of

  the men in question reacted to her, but he didn't know if she

  understood or perceived their interest the way he did.

  She shuddered. "I don't know. I feel their eyes and it's like---

  I don't know how to describe it."

  "How does it make you feel?"

  "Dirty." She bit her lower lip. "The way they look at me, makes

  me feel dirty or like---they're touching me. I just want to get away

  from them. Quickly."

  "Have they touched you?" His tone was harsh, but she could sense

  the anger in his voice was not directed toward her, but towards the

  men. He wasn't sure himself why the thought of other men bothering

  her should disturb him so much.

  She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, trying to calm him.

  "No, of course not," she said. "They just look." She shuddered again

  as she got a mental picture of them. "Sometimes I think they say

  things about me, but never loud enough for me to hear."

  "And how do I look at you? You said I was different," Harry

  coaxed.

  "I don't know if I should answer that," she teased shyly.

  "Come on, Malista. That's not fair. You brought it up. I've

  never seen the way I look at a woman I'm attracted to. I don't know

  what I look like. Tell me."

  She smiled drowsily and turned her face into the curve of his

  neck. "Let's just say that when you look at me, you see all of me---

  including my face. I think those other guys don't know I have a face

  at all."

  Her warm breath stirred against his skin, sending chills down

  his spine and a wave of heat shooting through his body. "They're

  idiots," he rasped, inhaling the vanilla scent of her shampoo. He

  rubbed his cheek against her hair, enjoying its silky texture.

  "You're a nice man," she murmured sleepily. Her hand left his

  chest and moved up to stroke his cheek affect
ionately.

  'Nice?! That's almost as bad as cute!' he thought disgustedly.

  Aloud he said, "Thanks, I try." He secured her questing hand in

  his and turned it toward his face. He kissed her palm. She suddenly

  stilled. He wasn't sure she was even breathing. He wasn't sure

  he was---as he waited for her reaction.

  "Harry?" a breathless whisper.

  "Yes?" He rubbed his thumb along the base of her hand.

  "Would you do me a favor?" She sounded uncertain, her voice

  wavering slightly.

  "Sure. What can I do for you?" He hoped he sounded cool and in

  control.

  "Could you do that again?" He had to strain to hear her murmur.

  He grinned. "Sure." He kissed her palm again, this time letting

  the tip of his tongue caress it lightly.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Oh, my!"

  "You like that?" Harry's grin was so wide now it could be heard

  in his voice.

  "It makes me feel---all shivery---but not cold," she gasped. "Do

  you know what I mean?"

  "Yes. Would you---like to try something else?" Kim said

  tentatively.

  She still refused to meet his eyes. "Like what?"

  "Like---maybe kissing?" he suggested quietly. He waited for her

  response.

  She shrugged, trying to sound indifferent as she replied, "I

  don't know. I've never tried it."

  "Never?" He tried to keep his astonishment from showing, but

  wasn't entirely successful.

  "Well, I kissed my father and brothers. On the cheek or

  forehead."

  "Didn't you ever kiss Tom?" Another green-eyed imp prompted that

  question. It had to be answered. He'd wondered about her relationship

  with the tall, good-looking heartthrob of Voyager. He couldn't

  believe she wouldn't fall for Paris. Almost every other woman on the

  ship had been interested in him at some time or another.

  "Ewww! No, that would be like kissing my brother!" Her

  exclamation had the ring of honesty.

  Harry Kim instantly felt a whole lot better. "So, would you like

  to try it?"

  "You don't mind giving me lessons?" she asked hopefully as she

  blinked up at him. "I'm so tired of being afraid---of touching, of

  kissing---of men. If you don't want to, it's okay. I'll understand.

  But if you wouldn't mind, would you please kiss me? At least once? So

  I can see what it's like?"

  Harry made an effort and refrained from rolling his eyes or