Han & Leia | Galaxy of Us

Chapter 12

"We can't fire," this she was certain about.

"So what would you have me do, Princess?" this time he let his mouth brush against her ear, his breath hot and teasing and she had to suppress both a shiver and a glare in his direction. How he managed to disconcert her at the time, she didn't know. How he had the audacity to do so...well, she'd always known he was a scoundrel.

"Wait till he gets close, then grab him from around his neck and hold till he's unconscious," she said, formulating a plan quickly.

"Easier said than done, sweetheart, with all that armor..."

"I've got your back," she responded, "I'll shoot him myself if things get out of control."

"Why, Your Worship," he finally released his hold around her and she felt unexpectedly deprived of his heat – she could hear the grin in his voice, as though he knew what she was thinking – "Have a little faith in me."

Easier said than done.

Han quickly grabbed the clone from behind, grunting as he struggled, before finally going limp. He set him down on the ground with some effort, while Leia headed into the cell. He kept the blaster trained outside, watching warily for any more troopers.

He hadn't exactly meant to land up in such close quarters with the Princess, but her certainly wasn't complaining. He'd come to accept the fact that he was attracted to her, that there was a sharp sort of heat between them that hadn't merely come about as a by-product of their infamous arguments. That didn't mean he'd come to take it seriously, however. She was his superior officer and he didn't like to mix business with pleasure. Not to mention the fact that she'd probably kiss a tauntaun before admitting she might feel the same way.

He knew she did. Perhaps she didn't quite realize it, but she was definitely attracted to him, she felt that heat too. And there had been no greater enjoyment for him than to confirm that with her back pressed to his chest and her heart thudding from more than just the danger they were in, that tiny catch in her breath when he'd allowed his lips to just sweep the dainty curve of her ear. She was so small in his arms, yet she was like an explosive; volatile and brimming with locked-up passion. He'd only managed to release some of it when he made her angry and damn, she was a stunner when she was angry. He'd allowed himself to imagine far too many times what she might be like in bed, although he'd quickly shut down such thoughts as pointless and futile.

He'd considered finding himself a bedmate – the base had a number of willing females who'd made their attraction towards him pretty clear – but he knew any sexual experience would be lacking and unsatisfactory if it wasn't with the woman he wanted. That was the root of the whole messy problem. Physical attraction could be brief, but with Leia, it only seemed to get worse over time. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because he saw her everyday, they worked together regularly, even spent some of their limited free time in each other's company. Constantly being in such close quarters with the woman in question would frustrate any man, he reasoned. And maybe it also had to do with how she didn't throw herself at him, blatantly nor indirectly, as many females were wont to do in his company; maybe he just liked the chase. But, he couldn't seem to get her out of his system.

"Found him?" he queried, nudging the clone's helmeted head with his foot and shaking off his thoughts.

"He's here...but he's not conscious. He's been tortured. Looks like Vader's work," she responded grimly from the cell, "We'll have to carry him out."

Han dubiously peered in to inspect the massively sized man, "Great."

Chewie's worried growl from his earpiece made him halt, "What is it?"