Page 84 of Alien Soldier's Heir

“Look at me,” he commands.

I do.

“This is real,” he says. “You. Me. This.”

I nod, unable to speak.

He fucks me harder now, hips slamming into mine. I meet him thrust for thrust, greedy, desperate. His cock fills me again and again, stroking every nerve, hitting places no one else ever has.

“Kaz—I’m—oh gods?—”

“Come for me,” he growls.

I do.

I shatter around him, crying out his name, pussy clenching hard. He roars, thrusts deep, and I feel him come—hot and thick inside me, filling me completely.

We collapse, tangled, panting.

And for one perfect moment, the universe fades away.

CHAPTER 35

KAZ

Iwake to the scent of her.

Not perfume. Not anything engineered. Just Nova—bare skin and clean sheets and something warm and a little wild that sinks into my lungs like oxygen after drowning. Her back’s tucked to my chest, her hair tangled against my mouth, and for a moment—just a breath—I forget the war, the years, the silence, the lies.

She shifts slightly, a small sigh escaping her lips.

Peace.

Not the empty kind. Not the numb, post-battle variety. Real peace. Heavy and human and earned through years of ache neither of us ever really unpacked. It wraps around us like a second set of sheets, invisible but undeniable.

I let my hand drift along the curve of her hip, fingers splayed wide like I’m still convincing myself this is real.

She leans into the touch.

Then turns.

Eyes still half-lidded, sleep-soft. Her lips part, and the kiss she gives me isn’t frantic like last night, or desperate, or soaked in memory. It’s quiet. Sweet. Slow. The kind of kiss that asks for nothing and gives everything.

“I missed you,” I murmur into her mouth.

“I know,” she whispers back.

I shift, sliding one leg between hers, pulling her flush against me. My cock stirs, already hard from the heat of her, the scent of her, the sheer presence of her body wrapped around mine like she never left.

She presses her forehead to mine. “We shouldn’t be doing this again.”

I smile, lazy and unbothered. “You always say that. Then you kiss me anyway.”

Her laugh is a puff of breath against my lips. “I hate that you know me that well.”

My hand slides lower, fingertips trailing over her stomach, then dipping between her thighs. She’s already warm and wet, her pussy slick as I stroke her gently. Her breath hitches, and her hips roll into my hand.

“You’re soaked for me,” I whisper. “Already.”