“Okay, we need to rest. And to eat something.” Sebastian comes to an abrupt stop in the middle of a field of grass that nearly comes up to my knees. And makes me grateful to have traded my skirt for a pair of pants, even if they don’t fit very well.

“What, here? Are we just going to stand around and suck pasta from a pouch?”

He laughs. “No, I thought we’d have a little picnic, of sorts. This might be our last chance, before UA contributes more manpower to searching for you.” Sebastian hands me his backpack, then he starts systematically stomping down tufts of rust-colored grass, flattening them with the side of his foot. As if he’s creating some kind of crop circle. “Can you dig through my bag and find the poncho? That’s the closest thing we have to a picnic blanket.”

By the time I find the clear plastic poncho and unwrap it, he’s stomped down a small circle of grass all around me. I spread out our plastic “blanket,” and when he takes a seat, I set his bag next to him.

Sebastian pulls two food envelopes from his pack and hands me one. He rips open his own, and when he dumps all the food out between us, I do the same with mine. While I debate between the two entree packets, he snatches the “beverage flavoring powder” and dumps it into one of the bottles of water we refilled before we abandoned the building this morning.

“I don’t suppose that’s caffeinated,” I say as I tear into a pouch of chicken pesto pasta, leaving him the honey barbecue chicken sandwich. Which, based on my palpation of the envelope, feels more like a stuffed bread pocket.

“No, but the instant coffee is. You’d have to drink it cold, though.” He starts to hand me another bottle of water, then stops and wraps both hands around it. “Strike that. Warm. That may be the only advantage to having no refrigeration—coffee that’s warm by default. There are even packets of sweeter and creamer.”

“Wow, they think of everything. Of course, these were intended for soldiers, rather than prisoners.”

Sebastian shakes up the flavored water, which is now a neon pink color. “Lemonade, I think,” he says as he hands it to me.

I take a sip. “Lemonade indeed.” It’s no lunchtime chardonnay, but it’s actually not bad. It’s like something you’d drink from a pouch, as a kid.

We scan the field around us as we eat, on the lookout for inmates, but for the moment, at least, there are none to be found. So for a few minutes, our meal feels like an actual—if odd—picnic on a sweltering summer day. If you ignore the prison uniforms and the underlying threat of discovery.

At the end of the meal, after we’ve split one of the included cookies because Sebastian insists that a picnic isn’t a picnic without dessert, we pack up the unopened food packages, fold up the tarp, and head off again, in no particular direction. I’m not optimistic about the fact that we have no idea where we’re going, but the break was nice.

We walk for several more hours, but when the sun starts to go down, we still haven’t come across any other buildings, or any female inmates at all, though we’ve ducked into tall grass several times to avoid notice by loners and a few men walking in small groups. Sebastian was right; they’ve all been heading in the direction of the crash.

Just when my legs are almost unbearably sore from the high-step I’m forced to do in too-large shoes, Sebastian sighs and stops walking again. “I don’t think we’re going to find any shelter tonight, Kaya. How do you feel about sleeping in the woods?”

“I feel like we have no other choice.”

“Agreed. But we do have matches. If we start gathering wood now, we should be able to get a fire going before we lose the last of the daylight.” He points to a patch of forest to the west.

I’m relieved by how close the forest looks—until it takes us another half hour of hiking to get there, and I realize I have no experience judging distance in an open wilderness setting.

“Thank god,” I breathe as we step into the woods, beneath a branch hanging heavy with bright red leaves. “If I have to go much farther, my legs are going to seize up on me.” And though my feet have fared much better today, the soles are starting to chafe against my now-damp two double layers of socks.

Sebastian spots a clearing and leads us there, and while I pick up fallen twigs and branches, he uses his foot to scrape a section of earth clear of dead leaves. Then he rolls a small half-rotten log toward the site of our future campfire, so I can sit while he builds the fire.

It takes a while. Though he seems to know what he’s doing, it’s clearly been a while since he’s actually done this. But I can’t exactly criticize. I’ve never built a fire. I’ve never been hiking. My grandmother didn’t consider outdoor adventures very ladylike.

My teeth are chattering by the time the fire finally starts putting out heat, so I roll my log closer, content to let the blaze roast my front half while my back half freezes. “Do you think this will be a problem? I mean, do you think the light and the smoke will draw attention?” Please, please say no. I’m not sure I can make it through a night in the forest with no source of heat.

“Maybe, if anyone’s out here. But I doubt many people wander around in the dark, considering the temperature drop. We should probably stay on alert, though. Just in case.”

Sebastian shakes out the poncho and spreads it over the patch of ground he’s cleared, then he starts shaking out our towels. While he arranges them on the poncho, creating the best bed he can manage out of our meager supplies, I begin gathering more twigs and branches, to keep the fire burning all night.

Having picked the clearing clean, I wander a little farther into the woods, where an odd branch catches my eye in the flicker from the clearing. This branch appears to be growing straight up out of the ground.

Curious, I move closer and discover that there are actually two branches sticking up out of the dirt, and that between them—

“Sebastian!”

He comes running, serrated knife at the ready to attack whatever threat I’ve run into. “What’s wrong?” he asks when no threat becomes apparent.

My arms are occupied by the wood I’ve gathered, so I nod at the ground. “Is that what I think it is?”

He squints, and I step aside to let light from our fire illuminate my finding. “If you think it’s a rabbit caught in a snare, then yes.” He kneels and lifts the wire loop that has killed the poor creature. “Milady, dinner is served!”

“Wait!” I cry as he heads back toward the clearing. “That’s someone else’s dinner. We can’t just steal it.”

Sebastian frowns. “I don’t suppose you subscribe to the ‘finders keepers’ scavenging philosophy?”

“Maybe under normal circumstances. Well, no, actually,” I amend. “Stealing is stealing. But in this case, we’re probably stealing from a violent criminal, who isn’t likely to forgive and forget when you chant a playground taunt and stick your tongue out at him.”

“Kaya, he isn’t going to come check his trap in the dark, and we’ll be long gone before he gets here tomorrow. Assuming he even comes. For all we know, he has traps all over this patch of woods and several others. And aside from all of that, he’s a criminal. Quite likely a thief. He’s been sentenced to life on a prison planet, and as his fellow inmate, I am part of that sentence. Part of his punishment. And I wouldn’t really be doing my part to punish him if I didn’t take this one measly little rabbit, with which to feed the woman in my care. Would I?”

I try to frown at him, but the wide-eyed, innocent look he’s giving me is too funny not to smile at. “The woman in your care? You sound like a brain damaged caveman.”

“Yes, but I rationalize the ‘finders keepers’ philosophy like the bratty big brother that I am. If you don’t believe me, just ask Sylvie.”

“When we find her.”

“Yes.” He nods firmly. “And we will find her. But first we will figure out how to skin and roast this rabbit.”

“Fine. But that’s all on you. For the record, I don’t approve of theft, and that moral stance should excuse me from the messier aspects of preparing it.”

“But you’re gonna eat it, right?” he challenges with one arched brow.

“Of course. I’ve never had rabbit.”

I collect more wood and dump it next to the fire while Sebastian bumbles his way through skinning and gutting the poor creature, and by the time he’s done, I’m transfixed. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. A soon-to-be-delicious car crash.

“It’s kind of a shame to waste that,” I say, staring at the gory remains of the rabbit’s…flesh “I mean, I’m normally anti-fur, but this is a survival situation, and I hear fur gloves are really warm…”

Sebastian glances at the discarded skin. “I’m kind of up to my wrists in raw meat right now, but if you think you can turn that into something wearable, be my guest.”

But of course, I can’t. I can arrange a banquet table with a twelve-piece setting. I can pair the proper wine with any entree. I can walk on wet grass in four-inch heels. And I can outline a sponsorship agreement with upward of thirty clauses and addenda. Yet I have virtually no practical skills.

Without Sebastian, I’d be dead out here.

Of course, without Sebastian, I wouldn’t be out here.

His first two attempts to fashion a spit go hilariously awry, so we wind up taking turns holding the rabbit over the fire, rotating it slowly on the long stick impaling it. I’ve never seen a less elegantly prepared meal. But it smells amazing.

It’s possible my judgment has been compromised by my empty stomach, or by the fact that in the past two days, I’ve only eaten prepackaged slop. Either way, by the time Sebastian announces that out food is cooked, I’m starving.

We sit on our log with the rabbit suspended between us on its stick, pulling chunks of meat off with our bare hands. It’s the messiest meal I’ve ever eaten.

It’s also the most fun I’ve had in years. Which makes no sense. Scrounging for food and warmth shouldn’t be fun. Wearing a corpse’s smelly clothes shouldn’t feel like an adventure. And goodness knows my head still throbs from being hit. Yet I find myself smiling as I look at Sebastian over our shared meal.

After dinner, we build up the fire and settle onto the makeshift bed, and Sebastian puts me between the fire and his body. His chest is pressed against my back, the bend in his knees echoing the line of my own legs. For the first time in hours, I am warm. In fact, I’m toasty.

“Why is there no temperate zone, around a fire?” I twist my head to ask over my shoulder. “Why is it that you can feel like you’re actually on fire, but if you move back a fraction of a step, you’re suddenly shivering, with ice forming on the tip of your nose?”

“Because if roughing it were easy, they’d call it…corporate sponsorship,” he quips. I elbow him in the stomach. “Ow! So which is it? Are you hot or cold?”

“I’m sweating. But I don’t want to move, because then I’ll be freezing.”

“Well, the solution seems simple,” he leans forward to whisper into my ear. “Why don’t you just stay close to the fire, but take your clothes off?”

“You want me to take off my clothes in the middle of the woods? On a prison planet?” I snort. “If there were ever a scenario capable of prompting me to actually staple my clothing to my skin, it would be this one.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” Sebastian brushes a damp strand of hair from my neck, then kisses the spot he exposed. “You are a beautiful woman, and these clothes only cover you up.”

“And keep me warm.”

“Which isn’t really an issue right now, is it?” He props himself up on one elbow, and I roll onto my back to look up at him. “Would it be easier for you if I go first? Because I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

I start to object. To insist that he keep his clothes on. But why? I’ve seen him in nothing but his underwear a hundred times, both live in the green room and on the security feed from the bullpen. In my entire life—in all of the galaxy—I’ve never seen a man with a more beautiful body. And out here, there’s no one around to tell me I shouldn’t look at him. Or touch him.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Sebastian’s brows rise almost comically high. “You want me to take my clothes off?”

“It was your idea. I’m just saying I’m okay with it.”

He sits up to pull his shirt over his head, and I find myself mesmerized by firelight glistening in a drop of sweat trailing down his chest. Over flat planes and rigid bumps of muscle. “So, are you going to be okay with all of my ideas?” he says, drawing my attention up to his mouth. “Because I have to say, this seems to be setting a very promising precedent.”

“I guess that depends on the idea.” I lower my gaze pointedly to his prison issue pants. Which are, inexplicably, still on.

He grins as he stands and unbuttons them. Then he pushes his pants down and steps out of them one foot at a time. Sebastian folds the material and sets it on top of his pack, presumably to keep it out of the dirt. And now he’s only wearing his—

Nope, his boxer briefs are gone in an instant, and now I’m looking right at—

I lower my gaze until I’m staring at my hands, which are neatly folded in my lap. Because I have no idea what else to do with them.

Sebastian sits next to me and I avoid looking at his erection, because it seems like staring would be rude. “Your turn,” he whispers, though as far as I know, we’re alone in the woods. When I hesitate, he smiles. “Allow me?”

I nod, and he holds my gaze while he slowly pulls my borrowed shirt up, trailing his fingers over my skin as he goes. I close my eyes and lift my arms, and he tugs the material over my head.

He puts my folded shirt on top of his own clothes, but his focus stays glued to my eyes, though on the lower edge of my vision, I can see his erection jumping. Begging for attention.

“You’re beautiful.” Sebastian reaches out to run one finger down my cheek, toward the tip of my chin. “And you’re kind. I’m so sorry I dragged you into this, but I will never forget what you’re doing for me. And for Sylvie.”

But I’m not doing it for Sylvie. I mean, I would do this for Sylvie, but this is less about her needing her brother’s help than about Sebastian needing to help her. Because he feels like he failed to protect Skye.

I’m doing this for him.

Sebastian’s hand slides along my jaw, then beneath my ear into my hair. He pulls me toward him as he leans in, and my eyes close as he kisses me.

This is the part I never expect. He kissed me once in the green room, then again yesterday, but I can never quite anticipate such a gentle, passionate approach from someone who was quite literally built to unleash violence. Someone whose every move on the sand is the savage hammer of powerful fists or the brutal clamp of vise-like, muscle-bound thighs.

This Sebastian is different. I think that somehow, despite all the visual—and muscular—evidence to the contrary, this is the real Sebastian, and I feel something when I’m with him that I never felt with David, or with anyone else. In the past couple of days, I’ve been so mad at him that I could have killed him myself, if that were in my skillset, but I was never afraid of him.

I trust him. With my life. With my body. With my…needs.

He teases my lower lip, tugging gently with his teeth until I open for him, then he takes my mouth as if it’s his to plunder. And oh, god, it is. His tongue strokes mine, a naughty promise of more to come, and when he finally breaks off our kiss, I can hardly breathe. “You’re still wearing too many things.” His hand slides down my bare back toward the waistband of a pair of pants I’m planning to burn to ashes at the first opportunity. “May I help you out of them?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

He rises onto his knees, then lifts me by my waist until I’m standing in front of him. He’s at eye level with my stomach, and I gasp when he leans in to kiss my navel—then dips his tongue inside. Every touch seems designed to show me what’s coming. And I want it so badly. I’ve never really wanted sex before. At best, it’s been something to get out of the way before dinner, so we can go eat. At worst, something to endure so I can go to sleep and finally put an end to the day. But this…

I want Sebastian. I…

I should tell him that. He deserves to hear it.

“Sebastian, I—”

His head pops up from my navel, leaving my sensitive flesh neglected. “Do you want to stop?”

“No! I just wanted to tell you that…I want you. Tonight, I want all of you. The full package, if you know what I’m saying.”

“Well, your euphemism’s a bit cryptic, but I think I can figure it out.” Sebastian gives me a teasing smile. Then he kisses his way down my stomach to where my stolen pants ride low on my hips. He unfolds the crimp in the material keeping them in place, and they fall to my feet as if gravity functions only to obey his will.

Sebastian groans when he sees that I’m naked beneath the pants. I couldn’t bring myself to put grimy underwear back on after we washed up, so I went without. Evidently that was the right move.

“How are you still so smooth?” he murmurs, kissing his way down my stomach and over my hip, while his hands slowly skim over my thighs, drawing goose bumps from my skin in spite of the heat from the fire.

“Nano hair follicle treatments,” I tell him with a smile. “It’s permanent and efficient.” It’s also possibly the only good idea David ever had. Not that I’m going to tell Sebastian that part.

“So this—” He aims a pointed glance at my neatly manicured…lady lawn. “—will always look like this? God, I love technology.”

“It’s not a very new technology.” Though the latest advancements have made the expense more than many can afford.

“Well, I heartily approve of its application.” To prove his point, he slides his hands around to grip my backside and presses another kiss just above the neat line of hair. A couple of inches north of where I’d like him to be.

I reach back to unhook my bra, and as I drape it over the stack of our folded clothes, Sebastian kisses his way back up my stomach. I let my head fall back, losing myself to the feel of his lips and hands while I stare up at the foliage, flickering a deep crimson in the glow from the fire.

I feel oddly…free, admittedly an irony, considering that I’m trapped on the surface of a prison planet. But for the first time in my life, no one’s watching me. No one’s checking to make sure that my legs are crossed at the ankles and my hands are folded in my lap. No one cares that my face isn’t camera-ready and that my hair isn’t pinned neatly back. Or even brushed.

There’s no one here but Sebastian, and he seems to like me just as I am. Sweaty and disheveled.

He stands and runs his hands up from my waist to cup my breasts, and they feel heavy and sensitive in his palms. His thumbs brush over my nipples, and they harden, amplifying an aching need building inside me.

Sebastian lifts my left breast and leans down to take my nipple into his mouth. I groan as he flicks it with the tip of his tongue, then sucks gently, dragging the length of his tongue across the tip.

Just when I think I can’t stand another second of teasing, he lifts me by my waist and slides one hand under my backside. I wrap my legs around him, achingly aware of his erection pressing against the most sensitive parts of my body. Then he lays me on my back on our makeshift bed.

My hands wander his chest while he settles between my legs, and my pulse begins to pound. Suddenly this feels so real. He’s so…tangible. So solid, and such a delicious weight, even though he’s holding himself up on one elbow.

Sebastian slides one hand between us and groans when he finds me ready. “You’re so wet,” he whispers as he dips one finger inside me.

I catch my breath. My hand clenches around his arm as he strokes into me once, twice, three times. Then he brings that finger up and circles my clit so slowly that my body cries out for more.

“Are we really going to do this?” I whisper, looking up at him. My question sounds stupid, yet it feels…important.

His brows rise. “Is this what you want?”

“Soooo much.”

“You sure?” He abandons my clit to slide two fingers into me this time, and I exhale as I feel my body clench around him. “I could get you off like this…”

“No.” That’s not what this is. Not what I want it to be, anyway. “I want you to be a part of this. A full part. I want… I want you inside me when I come.” God, please let me come…

Sebastian groans. “That is exactly what I needed to hear.” He kisses me as he positions himself at my entrance, and I’m so desperate to feel him inside me that I arch up, trying to take what I want, even though he’s not moving yet. “Wait, Kaya, I don’t have a condom.”

“Speaking of antiquated technology,” I tease. But he only frowns. “It’s okay. I’m one year into a five-year hormonal suppressant, so, I don’t have to worry about pregnancy for another four years. Unless…” Unless that’s not what he’s getting at. “Are you not clean?”

Sebastian laughs. “My body is a fucking temple. It had to be, for Grand Champion. I’m clean.”

“Me too. So, we’re all good.”

He smiles. Then he kisses me again as he slides inside me.

I groan into his mouth, and any other time, I would have been humiliated by the sound coming out of me. But he’s…big. Bigger than I’m used to, anyway.

“Is that okay?” he asks, rising onto his elbow again to study my expression.

“Yeah. Just, maybe give it a minute.”

“Okay.” And while my body adjusts to his size he kisses me again, running his thumb over my left nipple.

In seconds, I’m so desperate for him to move that I’m arching into him. Clenching around him. I’ve never felt this kind of need. This ache. Like a dirty itch I can’t quite scratch.

He laughs, and the motion makes his chest skim my nipples. It makes him press a little deeper into me, which is when I realize he’s not even all the way in.

There’s more of him.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yes,” I practically pant. Then Sebastian begins to move, and I forget about everything else. He’s big enough that every stroke seems to hit me in just the right place, and once he works himself all the way in, that’s true on the outside as well.

I arch up to meet him, clutching at his arms, desperately hoping my eyes don’t roll back into my head. He moans and slides one hand up my thigh, tucking my leg around his hips. I follow with the other leg, and that tilts my pelvis up, changing the angle, and oh my god.

“How are you so tight?” he groans. “It’s like no one’s ever been here.”

“No one who matters,” I assure him.

He begins to thrust harder, stroking deep into me, then pulling most of the way out only to sink in again, over and over. An intimate pressure begins to build inside me, and every brush of his body against my clit winds it tighter and tighter, until I feel like a coil about to snap. Tension tightens in my stomach. My legs clutch at him and my hands clench his arms as if I have to anchor myself against him, else I’ll be swept out to sea with the tide about to wash over me.

“Oh, god, tell me you’re close, baby,” Sebastian groans as our rhythm increases in tempo. The wet slap of flesh should embarrass me—it’s such an undignified sound—but it doesn’t.

“So close,” I assure him. “Please don’t stop.”

“Never,” he promises. Then he slides one hand beneath me and guides my movements, angling my hips up even farther so that each time he pounds into me, his body scrapes my clit with a blissful friction.

“Harder!” I cry, and Sebastian slams into me. Dimly I realize we’re rutting like animals on the ground in the woods, but I could not give a—

A low-pitched, primitive sound grinds up from my throat. My body clenches around him, spasming as that building tension inside me…breaks. As it recoils like a spring wound too tightly, and all I can do is ride the pleasure as it washes over me.

Sebastian groans one more time, and his rhythm devolves into frantic thrusting, each stroke taking me higher. He grunts, and I feel him release inside me once, twice, and again. And finally, he goes still over me. Against me. His damp chest resting on mine, though he’s holding most of his weight off me.

I wouldn’t care if he were crushing me.

“Oh my god. I don’t want to move,” I whisper into his ear.

“Why? Are you okay?” He lifts himself a little higher so he can see my face.

“I’m good. So good. I just don’t want this to…end.”

David would already have rolled over and gone into the bedroom to clean up, and I’d pull my clothes back on while he was gone. But…

I don’t want Sebastian to pull out and leave me empty.

How is it fair that the most wonderful sex I’ve ever had is with a death row inmate? With a man I can’t have. With a man I shouldn’t even want. How can I feel so safe with him, on the surface of the most dangerous planet in the galaxy, yet so vulnerable up in my own room in orbit, with a man who wants to marry me?

How can my life possibly be so screwed up?

I don’t have all the answers. In fact, I don’t have any of them. All I know for sure is that I don’t want anyone else to touch me. Not ever again.