Free Chain Reaction by Zoe Archer Page B

Take more than her mouth. He didn’t recognize himself in the depths of this savage hunger. His response to women had always been enthusiastic, but never this fierce, this demanding. It was as if he discovered a vital component missing from his blood, and there was only one way to make himself whole—Celene.
    If he took her in his arms now, what might she do? Grip his shoulders and pull him closer? Or break his wrists?
    He had to admit, there was something viscerally thrilling about not knowing. He didn’t want to hurt her, nor be hurt, yet when it came to the quantifiable variables of his life and the order to which he liked to assign everything, the unknown element of Celene excited him.
    Everything about her excited him.
    He couldn’t let himself think of that, of what he wanted.
    “That was a surprise.” In the confines of the small cockpit, his voice sounded too low, too gravelly. “The combat, I mean,” he added when she raised a brow.
    “Surprise attacks tend to be unexpected,” she said drily.
    Oh, hells, of course she would know that.
    “We handled the situation well enough,” he said. “But I’m talking about being in an actual fight. The combat was definitely alarming but also…exhilarating. A lot more than SimCom or training.”
    “Nothing like live plasma fire to get the heart rate up.” She grinned. “You weren’t scared?”
    “Definitely,” he answered.
    She chuckled at his ready response. “Didn’t show it.”
    He shrugged. “Why should I? Panicking wouldn’t help either of us. Had to direct my concentration toward defeating the enemy and getting us out alive.”
    “But you liked it.” A statement, not a question.
    “You know, I did.” He was thoughtful. “Operating in pristine harmony with someone else. Fighting side by side. Anticipating each other’s needs and fending off attackers.” His muscles burned just thinking about it again. “Still, I don’t want to go into combat with anyone else but you.”
    He fought the urge to close his eyes. Gods, he had not meant to say that. Not out loud, at least.
    Her silver eyes widened. “Tell me about the Night of Masks,” she finally said.
    “I’d rather not. We could talk about the other kiss.” Much easier for him to rationalize it as the heat of the moment.
    But she looked distinctly uneasy at the mention of their most recent kiss. “I’d rather not,” she echoed.
    What made her so uncomfortable? Was it the idea of kissing a NerdWorks engineer? Or something else? Something that made her…uncertain.
    “Was it spontaneous,” she pressed, her voice gaining confidence, “or did you plan it?”
    Prevarication seemed unlikely. Her tone refused argument, and her eyes told him that she’d see through any dissembling.
    “Planned,” he answered. “I’d known of you for a long time. Actually, we met almost two solar years ago. I was making some mods to your Wraith after a sortie. We talked about piloting systems for a while, then you went to a squad debriefing.”
    “I remember,” she said, then added, “vaguely.”
    He battled an automatic wince. Why would a Black Wraith Squad hotshot truly notice NerdWorks?
    “I remember you vividly,” he said. “You left an impression.”
    Her expression grew distant. “Stainless Jur.”
    “Best of the best. An untouchable combat record. And,” he continued, deciding that he might as well be completely candid, “you were— are —so beautiful, you stopped my heart.”
    Her aloof expression slipped a little. She seemed genuinely surprised that anyone might notice her as a woman rather than a series of combat statistics.
    “Should have said something,” she noted.
    He gave a rueful chuckle. “Every scenario I ran for that conversation resulted in the same outcome. None of them involved you and I sitting down for a cup of kahve , let alone me getting you back to my quarters.”
    Her cheeks turned pink, illuminated by the light of the control panel.
    He shook his head. “I can