Page 38 of Love Galaxy

“Maybe? Agh! But I also don’t not want to leave.” I’m barely making sense, even to myself. “It’s hard to explain. Mr. Smith is everything that’s wrong with the world—my world, at least. He’s a self-centered prick who thinks it’s okay to treat women like crap for his own benefit. Remember how I told you about my ex-boss?”

“Yes.”

“I promised myself I wouldn’t let any man control my life like that again. When I signed up for LOVE GALAXY, I thought I’d have more power in my choices. I thought I’d be able to pick and choose who I spent time with. It sounds so silly now.”

“No, it does not.”

“Then I look at you and I see someone who’s so kind and caring.” I take a breath. I'll probably regret what I’m about to say. But I’ll also regret not saying it. Either way, I’m fucked. “I think if I had met you normally, like, maybe if a mutual friend had introduced us, I think I could’ve fallen in love with you.” My voice fades away at the impossibility of it all.

I sniff, suddenly horrified I’m going to cry. I’m so tired. I’m so sick of fighting. And I’m exhausted from trying to make sense of everything that’s happened since my abduction.

“Why can’t feelings be easy?” I lie down, using the movement as an excuse to scrub my eyes before full-blown tears start running down my cheeks.

He lies down too, so we’re eye level. “Mayhaps we can pretend, just for a few minutes, that a mutual friend has introduced us?”

We’re walking in dangerous territory, but Sorin is looking so hopeful that I don’t want to disappoint him. “They probably would’ve set us up on a blind date.”

“Akh?”

I laugh.Blind datingmust be another Human-only tradition. “I mean, our mutual friend would’ve organized for us to meet up. We’d introduce ourselves. You’d tell me about your farm. I wouldn’t tell you about how I’d lost my job.”

“Why not?”

“I’d be trying hard to impress you. Instead, I’d ask lots of questions about your home and your planet. We’d talk about how we both enjoy cooking.”

“You do?” He’s clearly surprised.

I grin. “Yes. When I know what ingredients to use.”

“I would invite you to my farm.” He rolls onto his side and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

“Oooh la la,” I tease. “On our first date?”

He frowns, not understanding. “I want to show you the lakes. I want to show you what I have been doing with my life.”

“Aww.” My heart seems to backflip in my chest.

Then I remember my crappy apartment back in Sydney. Aside from the fact my landlord has probably already sold most of my furniture in an attempt to recoup some of my unpaid rent, I wouldn’t have wanted to have invited Sorin there. What could Ihave shown him? The couch I bought off Facebook Marketplace? The dusty shelves with the books I’d always meant to read but had never gotten around to. The empty pantry I was too broke to fill?

When I think of Earth, I think of all my fuck ups. I think of everything that went wrong. I think of all the people I let down and of all the people who let me down.

When I think of Sorin, I get butterflies.

He doesn’t have any hair which I can pretend to brush away from his face for an excuse to touch him. Boldly, I slip my hand into his, interlocking our fingers. His scales aren’t soft, but they’re beautifully smooth, and I can’t deny the little thrill of satisfaction at the sensation.

He sits up, and I half expect him to pull away. After everything we’ve said, it’s not like our relationship has become any less complicated. Any less confusing. But instead, he uses the old and cracked tablet lying on his bedside table to switch off the lights. Then he lies back down, still holding my hand.

I press a chaste kiss to his shoulder, using the cover of darkness to hide my growing feelings from the cameras. And from myself.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sorin

Ilet out a huff of air. Briar fell asleep almost immediately, her pliant body pressed to my side, one arm over my waist. I am trapped, held in place by a hold I could easily break but which I am entirely powerless against.

An onslaught of mixed desires and thoughts accost me, warring for my attention. The sensible part of me still functioning with any amount of normalcy begs me to leap from the bed and flee the house—and the cameras—before I make a scudding fool of myself. The rest of my brain is working furiously on devising a plan for how I could throw Briar over one shoulder and flee with her. While my cock wants nothing more than to push into Briar’s quim, be damn the consequences. It presses forcefully against my slit, demanding release, demanding attention, until I am panting and shaking and entirely ashamed.

She mutters in her sleep, snuggling closer until she has her head on my shoulder. A few short days ago, I could not have imagined being so lucky. Now, I am on the verge of losing control.

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