Page 51

“Even when you’re stuck on a star forsaken planet with a partner who’s got a stick up her butt?”

He grumbled a laugh. “Especially then. I was being harsh when I said that.”

She settled back in her seat. A small smile played across her face. “You’re right. I can be uptight. But it’s important to follow the rules. When you break them, things go wrong. I don’t want things to go wrong when we work together. Although it seems a bit late for that now.”

Regret simmered through him. He didn’t want to leave her, but he needed to before he broke one too many rules and she got hurt. “Even if I’m going, I still get to take care of you until then. Which means, you have to show me the bite on your arm.”

Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “I’m dealing with it.”

“It looks infected. Show me.”

She held out her arm. He pushed up the sleeve of her robe. Her skin was slightly slick with a sheen of oil.

A faint smell of lavender filled the air as he inspected the wound. “Have you had this checked out by the Doc?”

“Nope. I’ve cleaned it and used two healing plasters. I only took the plaster off because I wanted a bath.”

“It’s not looking great,” he said. “Where’s your medical kit?”

“In the bathroom. You don’t have to do that, though. It’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

Striker was already striding toward the bathroom. “Of course I do. Until the day my transfer is complete, I’m looking out for you.” He grabbed the medical kit and returned to the couch. He took hold of her arm, applied antibacterial gel to the bite mark and then a fresh healing plaster. He turned her arm over and ran his fingers up to the crease of the elbow, not missing her small inhalation of air or the way his cock hardened.

“You see. It’s nothing.” Her words were low and breathy.

“That could still leave a scar,” he said.

“We all have scars. You’ve got plenty.”

He shrugged, his fingers continuing to play across her soft skin. “You get them in our line of work.”

“I’ve always wondered about the jagged one on your right forearm. How did you get that?”

He winced and looked away, not wanting his past to interfere with his present. “I forget.”

“You forget? Or you don’t want to tell me?”

“Does it matter?”

She was silent, just her gentle breathing audible. “Did it happen when your squad was betrayed? You got injured trying to help the others?”

He shook his head, his teeth clenched as his hand covered the scar on his arm. It had been two years since that devastating event slammed into him and ripped his world apart. But sometimes, it seemed like it happened yesterday, the pain was so raw.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. Why would you? You’re leaving me.” The sadness echoing through Wren’s words had his heart clenching.

He reached for her, curled his fingers around the back of her neck and pulled her close. “Oh no, not this time.”

“What are you—”

Striker claimed her mouth with his, and her sweet taste spiraled through him.

She tensed for a second then her limbs went languid, and she sank against him.

He’d been desperate for this taste since their last kiss. Her soft, warm body molded against his chest, and fire surged through him. He needed to taste every inch of her, fill himself with this incredible woman.

Her groan as their tongues clashed urged him on.

“Wait!” Wren pulled back. “Are you doing this because you’re killing time?” She breathed against his mouth.