Page 28 of Alien Soldier's Heir

“Don’t do that,” she murmurs. “Don’t say the one thing I’ve been trying not to need.”

“I’m not saying it because you need it,” I whisper, voice low. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”

Her hand moves first.

It lands on my knee—light, tentative, like she’s testing gravity. Her thumb brushes over the fabric of my pants, barelythere, like she’s asking permission without the words. I hold still. I don’t move. Not yet. She needs to choose this.

Then she shifts forward.

Slow. One breath at a time. Her lips brush mine—testing. I kiss her back just as gently. Not hungry. Not greedy. Reverent. Like I’m praying to a god I never believed in until now.

Her hands climb up my chest, fingers curling into the edge of my collar. I pull her into my lap in one smooth, silent motion. Her thighs wrap around my hips like she’s done it a thousand times in dreams. Her kiss deepens. Gone is the hesitation.

Now, it’s need.

Months of near-misses and tension and longing explode in the space between her breaths.

Her fingers slip under my shirt, palms hot against my scales. I groan into her mouth, and she pulls back, just enough to meet my gaze.

Her cheeks are flushed. Her pupils blown wide. She’s unguarded in a way I’ve never seen. “This isn’t smart,” she whispers.

“Neither is flying into a war zone,” I murmur, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “But we do it anyway.”

She kisses me again—this time fierce.

We fumble with clothing, laughing, gasping, growling. Her fingers skim over my golden chest, dragging nails over ridges that pulse with heat. I shiver. She gasps. Her hands are greedy now—splaying over hard muscle and smooth scale. I reach beneath her shirt and feel the warm swell of her breasts. She arches into my hands like she’s starving for touch.

“Gods, Kaz,” she breathes. “You’re… different.”

I pause. “Too different?”

She grabs the back of my neck and yanks my mouth to hers. “Perfect.”

I growl low in my throat and stand, lifting her like she weighs nothing. She wraps around me effortlessly. I carry her to the bed, laying her down slow, reverent. Her shirt is gone in seconds. Her skin is pale and glowing in the starlight. My mouth finds her neck, her collarbone, the soft swell of her breast. She gasps when I bite just beneath her nipple—light, teasing.

Her hands are everywhere—my back, my shoulders, my ass. She yanks my pants down and groans when she sees me fully, completely.

“Fuck…”

“Still good?” I ask, cock already thick and hard between us.

She stares at me like she’s never wanted anything more. “I want you inside me. Now.”

I hover above her, one hand braced by her head, the other tracing between her thighs. She’s soaked. Her pussy is slick and warm and perfect. I drag two fingers through her folds and circle her clit. Her hips buck. She bites her lip, panting.

“I need you,” she moans.

I sink one finger inside her. Then two. She clenches around me, hips rolling, head thrown back.

“Fuck—Kaz—please?—”

“Look at me.”

Her eyes snap open.

“I need to see you when I take you.”

She nods, lip trembling.