Page 83 of Starfighter’s Salvation

For one long breath neither of us moved. He filled me completely, so deep I felt him pulse inside me like a second heartbeat. The bond didn’t flare. It opened. Warm and steady and endless, his love pouring into my ribs and my love pouring into his, and I realized we were both shaking.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” he whispered.

My throat closed. “That’s my line.”

“Then say it.”

“You’re real.” The words broke in my mouth. “You’re real and you’re here and if you ever do that to me again, Corvan, I swear to every god in this alien universe⁠—”

“Tell me.”

“I will follow you into hell and drag you back out by your hair.”

His smile was wicked. Wrecked. Beautiful. “Good to know.”

"I'm serious. Never do that again." I started to move before he could lie to me or infuriate me with the truth.

I shifted. Slow. Careful. I needed him to feel every rise and fall, every shift of my hips and swollen ridge inside my body wrapped around him. Squeezing. Taking. Branding him with my body, my scent, my claim. I braced my hands on his shoulders, careful of the bruises, and rode him with my eyes locked on his. His head fell back against the pillow. His throat worked. I watched the man who’d walked into a firefight with a smile come completely undone under my hands, and something fierce and possessive rose up in my chest.

Mine.

I didn’t say it aloud. Didn't need to. The bond carried my obsession to him anyway.

His eyes snapped to mine. “Say it.”

“Corvan—”

“Say it.”

“Mine.” It tore out of me. I rolled my hips harder, faster, and his fingers clamped around my waist. “You’re mine. Your heart is mine. Your body is mine. That stupid, reckless life of yours is mine, and you don’t get to risk it without my permission.”

“Gina....” There was that tone again. A warning. A dominant male I'd pushed too far.

I didn't care. My heart burned for him. He needed to understand. “You don’t get to leave me.”

“I will never leave you.”

“You don’t get to die for me.”

His grip tightened. His voice dropped low and fierce. “I protect what's mine.”

"Damn it, Corvan. No." I rode him harder. I couldn’t stop. Every stroke was an argument and an apology and a promise, my body slamming down onto his, slick and loud in the quiet room. He met me thrust for thrust, hips rising, hands bruising my skin, and his own wounds didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the heat, and the sweat, and the glow of his mark on my skin.

“Gina.” He gasped it. “Look at me.”

I did.

“I love you.” His eyes were wet. He didn’t hide it. “I loved you when I thought I was going to die, and I loved you when they cut me open, and I love you now. And if I need to make the choice again, I will choose you every time.”

“I know,” I sobbed. “I know. I love you.”

His thumb slid between us and found my clit, pressing hard, exactly where I needed him. My whole body clenched. The pleasure ripped through me, tight and brutal, and I came with his name in my mouth, my nails digging into his shoulders, the bond on fire and throwing the sensation straight into his chest.

He groaned. Lost it. His hips snapped up, once, twice, and he buried himself deep with a hoarse shout, spilling hot inside me while the bond fed his release back into mine. I came again, helplessly, arching against him while he held me in place, cock still pulsing, his hands locked on my hips like he was afraid I’d disappear.

He consumed my senses. He was everywhere.

For several breaths neither of us moved.