gently over her cheek, where med-gel was already turning her cut into a thin scar. “No more words,” he rumbled, his chest vibrating against hers.
Then he kissed her. Something in her heart shifted with a painful lurch, like a dislocated joint sliding back into place, and she knew.
She was in love with Captain Garrett Knox.
His kiss went on forever. Deep, starving, like he wanted to get lost in her. She was panting by the time he finally broke away, but she couldn’t catch her breath, because he’d only shifted objectives. His mouth skipped over her jaw to her throat, then back again, his teeth and tongue grazing her skin.
She was arching against him by the time he reached for the lace ties on the bodice of her dress, and her hands bumped clumsily into his as she tried to help him.
“Shh,” he soothed, pressing her hand gently back to the bed. Then his fingers returned, dexterous and sure, to untie the laces and trace hot, teasing patterns across the upper curves of her breasts.
He followed the same path with his lips, urging the loosened fabric open to bare her breasts. There, he brushed his open mouth over her—exploring, tasting. Nina focused on the sensations—his beard chafing her skin, his breath pebbling her nipples. The heat of his tongue.
Small things. Slight things. And they coalesced in a wild, unending throb of desire and denial. He could have slipped his hands under her dress and made her come in seconds. Instead, he undressed her slowly, spending the same amount of time on every inch of skin he uncovered.
It was as soothing as it was maddening, and Nina gave in to the slow burn. She was shaking by the time she was completely naked, and she twisted her fingers in his hair as he kissed his way back up her body.
His lips found hers. Deep, dreamy, still demanding that she feel even as he coaxed her hands to his shirt. He lifted his arms and broke away long enough to let her tug the fabric over his head, but before she could do more than press her trembling hands to the heat of his chest, he was touching her again. Stroking. Kissing.
Worshiping.
It felt … different. Desperate in a way that belied every leisurely caress. Intense. Breathtaking. Knox touched her as if he needed her more than the oxygen swimming in his blood, as if—
As if it was the last time.
Nina turned away from the thought. When she raked her teeth over the spot just below Knox’s ear, he groaned her name, and the sound banished a little of her doubt. So she kept going, chasing that ardent groan with a sharp inhalation or a hiss and a sigh, until he gave in to the heat between them and drove into her body with a helpless moan.
They moved together—slowly at first, then faster. Harder. Soon, her entire world had been reduced to slick skin and grinding pleasure, whispered pleas and Knox’s teeth on the back of her shoulder.
Whatever happened tomorrow, she would always have this.
* * *
TECHCORPS PROPRIETARY DATA, L1 SECURITY CLEARANCE
Birgitte Skovgaard was critically injured during apprehension, but I have her data courier in custody. I’ll handle the interrogation personally. You need to clear all our squads of involvement in her seditious activities.
Start with 66–615. She had someone following him.
Internal Memo, April 2081
* * *
TWENTY
Knox couldn’t sleep.
He dozed for a few hours, soothed by the even tickle of Nina’s breath on his throat and the warmth of her fingers resting over his heart. But real sleep eluded him. He could feel his stolen seconds ticking away. Each one was precious.
She slept in his arms, trusting and utterly exhausted. He’d driven her to the brink last night, as if he could prove himself with pleasure, make himself such an essential part of her that her need overrode her anger.
A pretty fantasy. No one was that good at fucking.
The sun was still teasing at the horizon when he slipped from her bed and from her room. The rooms they’d been given lined either side of the hallway, like an old-fashioned bed-and-breakfast. He crossed on silent feet and slipped into his own room, where his gear still sat untouched on the bed.
The satellite dish and his tablet were at the bottom of his pack. He’d scouted the path to the roof last night—down to the end of the hallway, up a narrow flight of stairs to the attic, and through a hatch in the roof. The