Page 33 of Starfighter’s Salvation

I reached for her hand and laced our fingers together as she stared up at me in surprise. She didn't pull away. I'd take that as a win. The mark at my nape flared, hot and insistent, and I was past the point of pretending I did not feel need for her pulsing through every vessel in my body.

Neither of us moved.

"Do. Not."

Gina squeezed my fingers once and stood, her fingers slipping from my grasp like water. The absence registered at once, absurdly sharp — as though my body had already decided her touch was necessary and that existing without it was unacceptable.

“Do, too. See you in a few hours, big guy.”

She walked out of the bay, her curved hips swaying in a way that made me adjust myself in my pants. I watched the empty doorway long after the exits sealed. Then I turned to the unnamed ship and knew I could not allow her to carry Georgina Renee Reyes into the Ferros Trench without a proper name.

Perhaps my Gina was not the only one who was superstitious. When it came to her safety, I wasn't taking any fucking chances.

I got some paint and went to work.

Keep her alive. It was the only prayer I had as I applied the name she had chosen to our ship. As usual, I had no idea what merciless gods might, or might not, be listening.

9

Gina, Later That Night

* * *

We finished the flight sim in record time, but my nerves were raw after. In a few hours, we were leaving, and the guns shooting at us would be real. I was as prepared as I was going to get. We had less than four hours before launch. The rescue bay crew wanted one live loading test with the stretcher rails fully extended. No holograms. No enemy fire. Just equipment, checklists, and a room full of people who had performed the same procedure hundreds of times. Night-cycle lights created stripes of white and shadow through the entire landing bay.

Everything was set. Loaded. Easy. Except the overhead actuator broke as the third load of weapons swung toward the ship docked next to ours. I heard metal crack above me and looked up. Bad decision. Apparently, I had left my reflexes and all common sense back on Earth.

Corvan hit me before the ceiling rig—no longer attached to the damn ceiling—could take me out.

One second I was standing. The next I was flat on my back with two hundred and fifty pounds of alien rescue pilot covering me. His arms caged my head. The pallet of weapons crashed to the floor a few steps away as the rig crashed across his shoulders hard enough to shake the deck. Someone shouted. His weight drove the breath from me. Heat and hard muscle and his massive body completely enveloped me. He was everywhere and his weight felt like a promise on top of me. A promise he had yet to keep.

He groaned in pain as he shifted and I noticed his lips had gone tight with pain. “Corvan?”

He lifted his head and our lips were so close I could feel his breath on my face. “Are you injured?”

“You’re on top of me. I don't think so.”

He pushed the broken rail off his back and stood. “Are you hurt?” he demanded.

“I don’t think so.” I accepted his outstretched hand and he pulled me gently to my feet.

“That is not an acceptable answer.” His large hands were moving across my shoulders, my back, making sure I was okay.

“Neither is ‘I'm fine’ even though I know you’re about to say it.”

He pulled me into a brief hug then pushed me away so he could use both of his hands to check me again. Head—gentle fingers moving through my hair. God, that was going to get him in trouble. Neck – my skin tingled everywhere he touched. Arms. Ribs—oh shit, those were way too close to my breasts which felt heavy and swollen for him. Hips. His palms moved over me with quick, professional pressure, big and warm and sure, and every place they pressed lit me up like I was a horny teenager, practically panting with uncontrollable lust. I wanted his hands on my bare skin, inside my wet core. I wanted his lips on mine and his fingers playing with my clit. Making me lose my mind before he fucked me into oblivion.

My mental state was rapidly deteriorating into fucking chaos and raw need. Unfortunately, my body was in even worse shape. If he moved that hand on my hip a single inch I was going to be in trouble. I ordered my body to stop wanting him. Now was not the time or place. Bitch completely ignored me. This was Corvan. And he was supposed to be mine. Totally. Completely. My head knew the score, but my body refused to read the memo.

“You cannot take such risks. When equipment fails, you move out of the way. You don't stand still and wait for it to hit you." His chest was heaving and he was staring at my lips as he scolded me. Neither thing was particularly helpful in calming my arousal. His chest was all carved muscle hugged by his tight, black flight suit. He was gorgeous. I wanted to touch.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“I am a Starfighter, not a captain.” His hand squeezed my hip, and I forgave his tone because I saw the panic behind his glassy eyes. This was not a normal reaction for him. He was truly worried that I'd been injured. If that rigging had fallen on me, no doubt I'd be in medical right now, bleeding all over the floor.

“I'm fine. And you’re bleeding on my shoes.”

He looked down as if the blood belonged to someone else, with complete detachment. Blood ran down the side of his flight suit as well, but all he seemed to be able to do was stare at me.