Page 26 of Alien Mercenary’s Wife (Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne #7)

"Ten minutes ago, you were just..." She paused, looked away. Then back at him, decisive. "You made me eggs. Like it mattered."

She reached up, fingers brushing the stubble shadowing his jaw. Electricity raced through his nervous system as he looked down at her.

"Learning your father runs the galaxy doesn't change anything for me." Her thumb traced his bottom lip. "Doesn't change who you are to me."

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. "And who am I to you?"

" Mine ."

"Reese." Her name escaped his lips, barely a whisper.

"Just shut up and kiss me already."

Her lips met his with desperate intensity, as if she were pouring her anger, fear, and relief into the kiss. He responded without thinking, one hand sliding into her hair while the other settled at her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

She tasted like coffee. Her mouth moved against his with hunger, demanding rather than asking, taking what she wanted with the same directness she brought to everything else.

He lost himself in how perfectly she fit against him. Her hands fisted in his shirt, anchoring them together as the kiss deepened… became possessive.

When they broke apart, both breathing hard, she rested her forehead against his chest. He felt the tension in her body that had nothing to do with neural damage and everything to do with the same desperate need clawing at his self-control.

"This doesn't solve anything," she said, lips brushing his neck. "The medical treatment. The other veterans."

"I know." His voice came out rougher than he'd ever heard it.

"And I'm still angry you tried to keep this from me."

"I know."

She pulled back to look at him directly. "But I'm not going anywhere. Emperor for a father or not, you're still the man who's been taking care of me. Still the man I?—"

She stopped, words catching in her throat.

She’d said that before. Stopped herself the same way. His hands tightened on her waist.

"The man you what?"

She shook her head. He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs tracing the sharp line of her cheekbones.

"Answer me, Reese,” he ordered, his voice a low growl.

Heat flashed through her eyes at his tone, pupils dilating as her breath caught. For a moment, she looked like she might challenge him, might pull away and rebuild those careful walls.

Instead, vulnerability flickered across her features before determination took its place.

"The man standing in front of me." The words came out in a whisper. "The man I want, Imperial complications be damned."

"Reese." Her name was a prayer on his lips as he closed the distance between them again.

This kiss was different—slower, deeper. His hands slid to her waist, lifting her effortlessly and carrying her the few steps to his bunk. She wrapped her legs around him, holding on.

He lay her back against the mattress, following her down without breaking the kiss.

His weight settled over her, careful not to crush her smaller frame but close enough that he felt every curve against his chest. Her hands found the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath to explore bare skin, fingers tracing muscle that years of combat had sculpted.

He pulled back to study her face in the soft lighting. Her dark hair spread across his pillow, her lips swollen from his kisses… Draanth, she was beautiful.

“I’ve wanted this since the moment I saw you," he admitted, his voice rough. His fingers moved to the fastening of her shirt, hesitating. "Are you sure?"

Her answer was to reach up and undo the first closure herself, challenging him with her eyes. "Imperial prince or not, you still ask too many questions."

Raw need surged through him at the challenge in her voice. He captured her hands, pinning them gently above her head with one of his own. "Then perhaps I should stop asking and start taking."

Her breath caught, pulse visibly quickening at the base of her throat. "Perhaps you should."

Her look broke his restraint. He claimed her mouth again, his free hand making quick work of the remaining fastenings. As the fabric parted, revealing smooth skin and practical undergarments, he made a sound deep in his throat—appreciation and hunger mixed into possessiveness.

She was his. All his.

"Beautiful," he murmured against her lips, trailing kisses down her throat.

She arched beneath him, her body moving with the same control he'd seen during training.

"T'Raal," she gasped as his mouth found the junction of her neck and shoulder. "I need?—"

"Tell me what you need." He slid his hand beneath her back, supporting her as she arched toward him.

"You." She strained against his hold with just enough resistance to feel the power in his restraint. "All of you."

He pulled back long enough to strip his shirt over his head, finally releasing her wrists. Her hands immediately explored the newly exposed skin, tracing scars with appreciation and unmistakable hunger.

"So much for professional distance," she murmured, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she ran her palms across his chest.

"Professional distance was never going to work with you." He helped her remove her own shirt completely. "Not when you challenge me at every turn."

"You like being challenged." Her fingers traced the waistband of his pants, teasing. "It's written all over your face every time I push back."

He captured her wandering hands, pressing a kiss to each palm before placing them firmly at her sides. "And you like pushing to see how far I'll let you go."

Her eyes darkened at his tone, something vulnerable flickering behind the desire. "No one's ever pushed back before. Not like you do."

"Get used to it." He lowered his head to press a kiss directly over her heart. "I'm not going anywhere either."

Her hands tangled in his hair as he explored her body with deliberate care, learning what made her gasp, what made her arch beneath him, what made her whisper his name.

When he finally settled between her thighs, weight supported on his forearms, she looked up at him, her expression open and honest.

"T'Raal," she said, cupping his face. "I want this. I want you."

"And you have me."

He claimed her mouth as he positioned himself between her thighs. Her skin burned hot against his, the contrast of her smaller body beneath his massive frame sending primal possession surging through his blood.

He pressed forward, watching her face as he entered her. Her eyes widened, lips parting on a gasp that he swallowed with another kiss. She felt incredible around him as he fought for control. Nothing had prepared him for this—for the feeling of being inside her.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as he seated himself fully within her, his cock stretching her around the thick length of him.

Holding still, he gave her time to adjust, even though every instinct screamed at him to move, to claim, to fuck her until she screamed his name.

Her breath came in short pants against his neck.

"Okay?" he managed, voice barely recognizable.

In answer, she rolled her hips, taking him deeper. The movement nearly shattered his control. He pulled back slowly, then thrust forward with more force than he'd intended, driven by need that overwhelmed rational thought.

She moaned, the sound vibrating against his lips.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, urging him deeper.

He obeyed, establishing a rhythm that had her gasping with each powerful thrust. Her body responded to his every movement, rising to meet his, and her pussy gripping him like a vice.

But then she surprised him, rolling them both until she was astride him and taking control. Her hands braced against his chest as she began to ride him, watching his face with satisfaction as he surrendered to her rhythm.

"My turn," she said, and the commanding edge in her voice made him groan as she ground down on his cock.

He gripped her hips, guiding but not controlling, letting her take what she needed. The sight of her moving above him—head thrown back, spine arched, completely uninhibited—sent fire racing through his veins.

He'd never given up control like this before. But with her, power shifted between them naturally.

When she leaned forward, changing the angle, he couldn't hold back the guttural sound that escaped his throat. Her smile was pure satisfaction.

"Better," she whispered against his ear, deliberately clenching around him, and he was lost.

He shifted his weight, sitting up to wrap his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. The new position brought them even closer, and she gasped his name, her pussy fluttering around him as he hit places that made her eyes roll back.

"Come for me," he growled against her ear, one hand sliding between them to find her clit, rubbing in tight circles. "Let me feel you come on my cock. Let go for me."

She shattered in his arms, tightening around him as she came, crying out his name. Her fingers dug into his shoulders hard enough to bruise as pleasure transformed her face in a way he knew he'd never forget.

The sight of her coming undone pushed him past his limit. His rhythm faltered, control abandoned as he chased his own release. Heat coiled at the base of his spine, pressure building with each thrust until it exploded outward in waves that left him blind and deaf to everything but sensation.

He came with a guttural roar, burying his cock to the hilt inside her as his release crashed through him, filling her completely. For endless moments, nothing existed but this—their joined bodies, shared breath, the thundering of his heart against his ribs.

Reality returned slowly. The dampness of sweat cooling on their skin. Her fingers tracing idle patterns across his shoulders.

T'Raal eased them both to the side, unwilling to crush her, but kept her tucked against him. Her head found the hollow of his shoulder as if it had been designed for precisely that purpose. He traced the curve of her spine, feeling the subtle ridge of the neural stimulator beneath his fingertips.

"You're trembling," he observed, hearing the roughness in his own voice.

She pressed closer, her body fitting perfectly against his. "So are you."

He couldn't deny it. His hand wasn't entirely steady as he brushed a strand of dark hair from her face. Everything had changed. For the first time in his life, he'd revealed everything and been accepted completely.

"You're not running," he said quietly.

She smiled against his chest, tired but content. "Didn't I say that already?"