Page 35 of Alien Wants A Wife

That’s the only way I can think of to describe it—fireworks. Desire shoots through me, and my hold on Roan strengthens until he’s all I’m thinking about. In the darkness, it’s him and me and our kiss.

And his erection, which is pressing against my stomach. I can’t stop my grin. I’m smiling against his mouth, and he takes full advantage, slipping his tongue into my mouth, exploring. Taking control.

I grip his throat tighter. He releases a longing moan, and we both stumble back a step, him bumping into the door behind him.

I pull back, blinking in the suddenly too-bright light. The magic bubble around us has popped. He must have accidentally hit the light switch beside the door.

Roan’s eyes are glazed over, and his lips are slightly swollen. He doesn’t seem perturbed by the light’s interruption. We’re still standing so close that I can feel how fast his heart is beating. Then he blinks, and some sense seems to return to his brain because he says, “Kissing is not what I had been expecting.”

“No?” I wipe the corner of his mouth with my thumb, removing the smear of my lipstick.

As I draw my hand away, he sways forward an inch, prolonging the touch.

“What did you think it was?”

“I…” He shakes his head. “I had no ideas.”

“And you liked it?” Glancing down, I’m pretty sure I know the answer. What I’d felt pressing against my stomach is a distinct bulge. Considering he’s not wearing any clothes (other than his boots) I’m a little surprised to not be staring straight at his dick. Instead, there’s a rather solid bump, over which his scales appear to be stretched.

Stretched. Is that the right word?

Somehow his scales have expanded. Or maybe the parts of his scales that overlap are less overlapped, accommodating his hidden erection. There’s a seam down the center of the bulge, approximately five inches long, that looks about ready to burst open, much like a zipper straining to keep an overstuffed bag closed.

I’m reminded exactly howalienRoan really is. A fact I’m surprised to find doesn’t worry me anymore. Yeah, he’s an alien, but more importantly he’s my friend. My ally.

Someone I trust.

A fast learner and an excellent kisser.

“Yes.” He blinks. “I liked it! I would spend my whole life kissing you.”

And, with that heart-meltingly romantic sentiment, my guilt comes rushing back in full force, a punch straight into my stomach.

I gently disentangle myself from Roan and take a step back. With the lights on, the room has lost a lot of its comfortable, secure feeling, and when I glance around, I see walls lined with shelves, and shelves packed with food storage. It’s so neat, organized and clean that it’s got a kind of clinical feeling to it, and I wrap my arms around myself, already missing Roan pressed flush against me.

I’ve also got a clear view of the cameras. Three of them are staring straight at us, recording everything. I bet Mr. Smith is back at his ship, watching. He’s probably congratulating himself for what a great job he’s done, pushing Roan and me together.

A kiss on the second day for the second episode. That isn’t exactly revolutionary in the world of reality dating, at least not for Earth, but if all aliens are like Roan and don’t know about kissing, then I’ve possibly blown a lot of minds. Billions of minds.

This whole reality TV experience would’ve been so much easier if Roan were a wannabe celebrity on the hurt for fame and fortune and a bit of tasteless, pixelated nudity. Instead, he’s ridiculously innocent, staring at me with wide eyes. He clearly knows something is wrong, but he’s got no clue what.

I force myself to smile, crinkling the corners of my eyes.

I can hear the echo of Mr. Smith’s voice in my head from earlier when he was ordering us to flirt more. And I can still remember exactly what Chloe had said when she’d asked me to break Roan’s heart. All these thoughts are buzzing around my head, filling my ears with noise.

Iwantedto kiss Roan. But I alsohadto kiss him. And I’m having trouble reconciling those two opposing ideas into something that doesn’t make me feel like I’m lying to him.

This moment together should have been either something completely amazing and special—Roan’s first kiss! Or something meaningless and playful—an act for the cameras.

Instead, it’s something in-between. Something that Mr. Smith and our future audience have tainted.

I take another step back, and I swear Roan’s eyes get even wider. He’s even more confused. He looks how I feel.

“I wanted to kiss you,” I tell him the truth, unable to leave the closet without at least giving him that much. “Thank you for letting me be your first kiss. I guess it’s only a Human thing, but”—I shrug, trying to lighten the weight of my words even as I say them—“it was special to me that I got to be your first.”

His whole face lights up.

“And my last.” He reaches for me, but I open the door and tumble out, running away.

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