“My name is Colonel Michael Gibson. Your group has the third highest passing rate in the history of Delta. Congratulations. Follow me.”
Apparently that and a group photo made up their graduation ceremony—a hundred and four soldiers down to seven.
Kyle had tried another kiss after they’d both gotten up off the dirt, but it hadn’t worked. Turnabout being fair, he’d driven her back against the wall and feasted greedily. He’d taken and she’d given, groaning with animal need as he grabbed her perfect handful of a breast and her leg wrapped around his waist.
But it was too forceful, too sparky, and he could only tolerate it so long. They ended up like two gladiators held at bay by the emperor’s command—a pace apart and panting hard.
“Maybe it would be better if we don’t try that again until
