Page 56 of Rogue Starfighter

“You don’t have to finish it,” I said.

“I’m not dying because I was defeated by an alien granola bar.”

“I do not know what granola is.”

“Be grateful.”

She finished every bite. The cockpit temperature fell below safe limits two hours into the night cycle. Priya’s lips lost color. Her hands began to shake.

“Come here,” I said.

“I’m okay.”

“That is another version of fine.”

“Maybe a little cold.”

“Your body temperature is dropping.”

I pulled the thermal layer across the narrow space behind the seats and sat with my back against the inner hull. Priya lowered herself beside me.

“Closer,” I said.

“You usually complain when I get closer.”

“I am adapting.”

“Very brave.”

I lifted her onto my lap and wrapped the thermal layer around both of us. Her back fit against my chest. My arms circled her waist. She tucked her hands between my forearms and her stomach, and within seconds the bond eased.

“Better?” I asked.

“Much.”

Her head rested beneath my jaw. I felt every breath. Every small movement. The curve of her ass settled directly over my cock. Survival required shared body heat. Survival did not require my cock to become hard. Priya shifted. I tightened my hands at her waist. “Do not.”

“Do not what?”

“You know exactly what.”

“I was getting comfortable.”

“Liar.”

“Look at that. You really are learning.”

She moved again, slower this time, and rubbed the soft curve of her ass over me. My restraint failed. I caught her jaw, turned her face toward mine, and kissed her. She opened immediately. No hesitation. Her hand went behind my neck and pulled me closer as my tongue entered her mouth. The pair bond flared hot enough to drive every trace of cold from my body. Priya turned on my lap. Her knees settled on either side of my hips. The thermal layer fell around us like a tent.

“Tell me if your ribs hurt,” I said against her mouth.

“They’re not what hurts.”

“What does?”

She pressed her hips down over my cock.

“This.”