Page 23

T he door to Davis's quarters hissed shut behind them, sealing them away from the rest of the ship. Mira s heart rate kicked up at the sound.

She'd been in his quarters exactly once before just a brief errand to drop off tech specs.

But now, properly taking it in, she realized how much the space revealed about him.

It was military neat, but not sterile. There was a worn leather-bound book on the nightstand and a pair of heavy boots tucked beneath a small desk.

A holophoto of a woman who shared his angular jaw was pinned on the wall, probably his mother.

The space smelled of him clean sweat, something faintly metallic, and that unique scent she couldn't name but instantly recognized as his.

"Home sweet home," he said, his voice rougher than usual as he eased himself down onto the edge of his bed.

Spot chirped nervously, optical sensors tracking Davis's movements before settling into a corner.

"You should rest," she said. "Jex said minimal activity for at least twelve hours."

Davis's mouth quirked. "Yes, Doctor."

She rolled her eyes and took a step toward the desk. "I'm not a doctor. I'm just repeating what the actual experts said."

"Fine, nurse. He stretched out on the bed with a painful groan. "I'll be good. I promise.

His definition of good involved sprawling out like a predator at rest, with his arms folded behind his head. Her mouth went dry at the long, lean lines of his body and the strip of tanned skin that peeked out where his t-shirt rode up slightly above his waistband.

Dragging her eyes away, she dropped into the desk chair and activated her datapad. "I'm supposed to monitor your vitals. Jex linked them to my pad."

"Lucky pad," he murmured.

Her cheeks heated. She focused on the scrolling numbers, trying to look competent. His heart rate seemed elevated but steady. His body temperature was still running hotter than normal, but it was within parameters.

"We should distract ourselves," she said, wincing at her own phrasing. "I mean I could find something for us to watch? A film maybe?"

Davis shifted on the bed, drawing her attention back to him. He watched her with an intensity that made her skin prickle with awareness.

"Sure," he said, a wicked look in his eyes. "Find us something good."

She turned back to the datapad, scrolling through the ship's entertainment database without really seeing it. She felt him watching her, the touch of his gaze like a soft caress sliding along her spine.

"Any preferences?" she asked, proud she didn t squeak.

I don t know. Something with a happy ending."

She bit her lip, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Action? Comedy? Drama?"

"Surprise me."

Selecting something at random, some historical drama that had gotten decent reviews, she set it to display on the small wall screen. The opening credits began to scroll, the volume low enough to be background noise.

For a few minutes, they both pretended to watch. She kept her eyes fixed on the screen, but she was conscious of every shift of his body on the bed behind her, every soft breath.

A soft groan broke the silence, and she snapped her head around. He had a hand pressed to his chest, his face contorted in pain.

"Davis?" She was on her feet in a heartbeat, datapad forgotten. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said through gritted teeth. "Just... twinges."

The monitors weren't showing any alarming changes. She frowned. "Should I call Jex?"

"No!" His response came quickly. Too quickly. "No, it's fine. Probably just... muscle spasms. After effects."

She took a step forward, eyes narrowed. "You're sure?"

"Maybe..." he winced again, the performance convincing. But there it was, the slight quirk to his lips as he looked up at her. "Maybe you could check? Just... make sure everything looks normal?"

"I'm not a medical professional," she reminded him as she moved closer.

"I trust you." The sincerity in his eyes was convincing.

She perched on the edge of the bed. "Where does it hurt?"

"Here." He guided her hand to his chest, placing her palm flat against his sternum.

His heart beat beneath her fingers, strong and steady.

"Feels normal to me," she said, trying to pull her hand away.

His fingers tightened around her wrist, keeping her palm pressed against him. "Are you sure?" His voice dropped to a low rumble. "Maybe check more thoroughly?"

She met his gaze directly. "Davis Tell, are you faking chest pains to get me to touch you?"

A grin broke across his face, transforming him from merely handsome to devastating. "Is it working?"

"You're supposed to be resting."

I m in bed," he pointed out, thumb tracing circles against the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. "Very restful."

"Covak and Jex would kill me if -"

"They're not here." His other hand reached up, fingertips brushing her cheek with unexpected gentleness. "Just us."

"You scared me today," she admitted, her voice dropping to match his. "When you collapsed, I thought

Fuck it.

His growl warned her a split second before he surged into movement. Sliding his hand into her hair, he pulled her down until she sprawled across his chest, and his mouth captured hers in a hard, hungry kiss.

She should have protested. Should have pushed back, reminded him of his condition, and maintained some professional distance.

But instead, she melted into him. His lips were hot and demanding.

His hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping into her mouth with a possessiveness that made her whimper.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, she braced her hands on his chest, trying to regain her composure.

"This is a bad idea," she said. "You're still recovering, and I'm supposed to be monitoring you."

His hand slid down to cup her ass. Squeezed.

"You are monitoring me. Very closely."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the smile tugging at her lips. "You know what I mean."

"I do," he agreed, his expression sobering slightly. "But I need this, Mira. Need you." His hand moved to cup her face, and his thumb traced her lower lip. "After today... I need to feel alive. To feel human.

The vulnerability in his words struck her.

"You are human," she said softly. "No matter what's in your DNA."

He searched her face.

"You're not afraid of me? Of what I'm becoming?"

She didn t even need to think about that. No."

"Good."

His expression shifted, something fierce and hungry replacing the vulnerability. In the next moment, he surged up, flipping their positions with effortless strength until she was pinned to the mattress beneath him.

The move-his size, his strength, the wicked light in his eyes-should have frightened her. Instead, heat bloomed low in her belly, wetness gathering between her thighs.

Claiming her lips again, harder this time, he made it a demand rather than a request. She arched into him, her hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. His tongue swept possessively into her mouth tasting. Taking. She yielded willingly, opening to him.

He tore his lips from hers, trailing kisses down her throat. Oh god. I need you," he growled against her skin. "Need to be inside you. Feel you around my cock.

"You're supposed to be resting, she gasped as his teeth grazed her pulse point.

He chuckled, the sound dark and promising.

"I hurt. Real bad."

She couldn't help herself. "Where?"

He grabbed her wrist, dragging her hand down between their bodies to cup the thick length straining against his pants. "Here."

Holy shit. He was huge hot and hard beneath her palm. Her fingers instinctively curled around him, measuring his girth through the fabric. He hissed between his teeth as his hips jerked into her touch.

"Think you can help me with that?" he asked, voice tight.

Her defenses crumbled. In one swift move, she yanked his shirt up, revealing the muscled expanse of his chest and stomach. The energy-weapon scar had faded to a silvery line across his left pectoral. She traced it with her fingertips, marveling at the rapid healing.

"Off," she demanded, tugging at the fabric.

He sat back on his heels, stripping the shirt over his head in one fluid motion. The sight of him, all sculpted muscle and tanned skin, stole her breath. He'd always been fit, but the changes coursing through him had enhanced every line and plane of his body to something beyond human perfection.

"Your turn," he said, fingers playing with the hem of her top.

She lifted her arms, allowing him to peel the fabric up and away. The heat in his gaze as he looked down at her made her feel beautiful, powerful.

I ve wanted you since the first time I saw you, he murmured, hands skimming up her sides to cup her breasts. "Dreamed about it. Rubbed my cock fucking raw in the shower thinking about you.

His thumbs brushed over her nipples through cotton, drawing them into tight peaks.

Arching into his touch, a soft moan escaped her lips.

A growl of impatience rumbled low in his chest as he reached behind her.

She sucked in a breath as her bra clasp gave, her breasts suddenly free.

He looked down at her, dark fire in his eyes as he threw her bra over his shoulder.

"Perfect," he breathed, taking in the sight of her bared breasts. "Fucking perfect."

* * *

He leaned down, mouth closing around one nipple while his fingers toyed with the other. The wet heat of his tongue, the gentle scrape of teeth, sent jolts of pleasure straight to her core. She tangled her fingers in his hair and held him to her.

Their remaining clothes didn't last long. They were both too desperate, too hungry for each other to bother with finesse. Boots thudded to the floor. Pants were shoved down and kicked away. Underwear torn in haste. Until finally, they were skin to skin, nothing between them but heat and need.