Chapter 13 Kaz
KAZ
Itell myself it’s just about the flight manual.
The one I borrowed two days ago. The one I’ve already scanned, memorized, and probably could’ve rewritten in half the time.
But here I am—late evening, the sky burned down to a dull indigo outside, the compound hushed like it’s holding its breath—and I’m standing at Nova’s door with that manual in one hand and a knot in my chest that has nothing to do with aerodynamics.
I raise my hand to knock. Pause.
Second thoughts stir like shadows behind my ribs. I hate those. I’m not built for hesitation.
So I knock.
The door opens faster than I expect.
And there she is.
Hair down in loose waves, like the stars decided to drape themselves over her shoulders.
Barefoot, wearing one of those threadbare academy tees that hang loose in all the right places and tight in all the better ones.
She blinks at me like she expected anyone else.
For once, she doesn’t look like she’s bracing for battle. Just… surprised.
“Kaz?”
I lift the manual. “Thought I should return this before you mark it as MIA.”
She doesn’t move. Just studies me like she’s trying to read the fine print of my thoughts. Her eyes soften—not enough to make me bold, but enough to make me stay.
“It’s late,” she says.
I nod. “I know.”
Another beat.
Then she steps aside. “You want a drink?”
“Only if it’s lemonade.”
That earns the tiniest huff of amusement. Not quite a laugh, but close. She disappears into the small kitchen alcove, and I step inside.
Her quarters are clean, but not spotless. Lived-in. A stack of training reports on the corner of the desk. A sweater draped over the back of the couch. Her boots kicked off haphazardly near the door like she couldn’t be bothered to line them up for once.
I close the door behind me, and the hush gets deeper.
“Real lemons this time,” she calls. “Well… reconstituted real. Alliance budget doesn’t cover Earth citrus.”
“I’ll pretend,” I say, taking a seat on the edge of her couch. “I’m good at pretending.”
She comes back with two glasses, sets one in front of me. Sits opposite, legs crossed under her. Her foot brushes mine. Bare skin. Warm. Unintentional—or maybe not.
I take a sip. Tart, cold. Crisp.
“You always this hospitable to guys who lose bets and try to grope you on your porch?”
Her eyebrow arches. “Only the ones who come back anyway.”
That lands deeper than it should. I lean back, letting the glass dangle from my fingers.
“I meant what I said that day. About keeping my word.”
“And what exactly do you think you’re keeping now?”
I look at her. Really look.
She’s not guarded tonight. Or maybe she’s just tired of the armor.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I just know I couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked at me last night. Like I wasn’t just annoying. Like maybe you saw something worth… not walking away from.”
She doesn’t answer. Just studies me with those eyes that see too much.
Then softly, “Why do you keep coming back, Kaz?”
I don’t have a line ready. No smirk. No play.
“I used to chase flight because it was the only place I felt free. Out there, I didn’t have to be the loudest or the best—I just had to survive. But then I met you. And suddenly surviving didn’t feel like enough.”
She exhales, slow and shaky.
“I see you,” I say. “Not just the rank. Not the rules. You. The way you carry everything so carefully, like if you let one emotion loose, the whole thing will collapse. The way you pretend you don’t care but look after every cadet like they’re already part of your squad.
The way you make me want to be better without saying a damn word. ”
Nova sets her glass down with a precision that’s all control. Her eyes flick to mine, guarded and gleaming in the low light of her quarters.
“Don’t do that,” she murmurs. “Don’t say the one thing I’ve been trying not to need.”
“I’m not saying it because you need it,” I whisper, voice low. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Her hand moves first.
It lands on my knee—light, tentative, like she’s testing gravity. Her thumb brushes over the fabric of my pants, barely there, like she’s asking permission without the words. I hold still. I don’t move. Not yet. She needs to choose this.
Then she shifts forward.
Slow. One breath at a time. Her lips brush mine—testing. I kiss her back just as gently. Not hungry. Not greedy. Reverent. Like I’m praying to a god I never believed in until now.
Her hands climb up my chest, fingers curling into the edge of my collar. I pull her into my lap in one smooth, silent motion. Her thighs wrap around my hips like she’s done it a thousand times in dreams. Her kiss deepens. Gone is the hesitation.
Now, it’s need.
Months of near-misses and tension and longing explode in the space between her breaths.
Her fingers slip under my shirt, palms hot against my scales. I groan into her mouth, and she pulls back, just enough to meet my gaze.
Her cheeks are flushed. Her pupils blown wide. She’s unguarded in a way I’ve never seen. “This isn’t smart,” she whispers.
“Neither is flying into a war zone,” I murmur, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “But we do it anyway.”
She kisses me again—this time fierce.
We fumble with clothing, laughing, gasping, growling.
Her fingers skim over my golden chest, dragging nails over ridges that pulse with heat.
I shiver. She gasps. Her hands are greedy now—splaying over hard muscle and smooth scale.
I reach beneath her shirt and feel the warm swell of her breasts.
She arches into my hands like she’s starving for touch.
“Gods, Kaz,” she breathes. “You’re… different.”
I pause. “Too different?”
She grabs the back of my neck and yanks my mouth to hers. “Perfect.”
I growl low in my throat and stand, lifting her like she weighs nothing.
She wraps around me effortlessly. I carry her to the bed, laying her down slow, reverent.
Her shirt is gone in seconds. Her skin is pale and glowing in the starlight.
My mouth finds her neck, her collarbone, the soft swell of her breast. She gasps when I bite just beneath her nipple—light, teasing.
Her hands are everywhere—my back, my shoulders, my ass. She yanks my pants down and groans when she sees me fully, completely.
“Fuck…”
“Still good?” I ask, cock already thick and hard between us.
She stares at me like she’s never wanted anything more. “I want you inside me. Now.”
I hover above her, one hand braced by her head, the other tracing between her thighs. She’s soaked. Her pussy is slick and warm and perfect. I drag two fingers through her folds and circle her clit. Her hips buck. She bites her lip, panting.
“I need you,” she moans.
I sink one finger inside her. Then two. She clenches around me, hips rolling, head thrown back.
“Fuck—Kaz—please—”
“Look at me.”
Her eyes snap open.
“I need to see you when I take you.”
She nods, lip trembling.
I line up, sliding my cock through her wetness. Teasing her entrance. Her body shivers, fingers clutching my shoulders.
Then I push in.
Slow. Deep.
She gasps, mouth open, a wordless cry.
“Nova…”
“Don’t stop,” she breathes. “Please—”
I bottom out inside her, hips flush to hers. She’s tight, gripping me like a vice, like her body was built for mine.
We move in sync.
It’s not rushed. It’s not about the need to finish.
It’s about every slow, perfect inch.
Her legs wrap around my waist. Her nails rake down my back. I thrust deeper, harder, feeling her start to unravel beneath me.
“Gods—you feel so good,” I growl. “So fucking good…”
Her eyes shine, half-lidded, moaning as each thrust hits deeper.
“Harder, Kaz. Don’t hold back.”
I don’t.
I fuck her like I’ve wanted to since the first time she looked at me like I was a problem she didn’t want to solve. Her body meets mine with wild, hungry rhythm. Every thrust is a promise. Every moan, a confession.
“I’ve never—” she gasps, “—felt this with anyone.”
“Say it again,” I breathe into her ear.
“I need you.”
“Louder.”
“I fucking need you, Kaz!”
Her orgasm hits like a shockwave. She cries out, body clenching around my cock, shuddering with each pulse. I kiss her—rough, desperate—as I drive through her climax.
Then I come, roaring her name into her neck, hips locked, cock throbbing deep inside her.
We collapse together, tangled and breathless. Her legs still around me. Her fingers in my hair.
I don’t speak. Not right away.
She doesn’t either.
We just lie there, sweat cooling, hearts racing, breath syncing like we’re still flying in formation.
I brush a strand of hair from her cheek. Her eyes are closed, lashes trembling.
“You okay?” I whisper.
She nods, slowly. “Yeah.”
I kiss her again. Just once. Gentle.
“I didn’t come here expecting this,” I say.
“I didn’t let you in expecting it either.”
We lie in the quiet, the engines outside humming like a lullaby.
No promises.
No regrets.
Just the stillness after the storm.
And the knowledge that nothing between us will ever be the same.