Page 79 of Alien Wants A Wife

“Just like that?” she asks, voice cracking. “You’re not angry with me?”

Can Harlee not see that she is everything I have ever desired? To be angry with her for something she said before we met would be impossible.

“Even after everything Chloe said?”

“I fall asleep thinking of you. I dream about you. And then to wake with you in my arms—that iseverything.”

“Aww,” Briar croons. “This means Harlee and I are sisters-in-law.”

I do not have the time nor the inclination to ask what such words mean. Rather, I wrap my arms around Harlee, and she sinks against me, one hand pressed to my back, one at my throat, directing me to bow my head so she can kiss me.

And kiss me.

And kiss me.

Harlee

I’ve got no idea when the others creeped out of Killan’s kitchen. Truth be told, they could have stormed out, screaming and shouting, and I probably wouldn’t’ve noticed, too wrapped up in Roan’s arms and our happy bubble.

So much has happened this morning that I feel a bit like a merry-go-round has taken up residence in my brain. On one of the carousel horses rides everything that happened with Briar and Mr. Smith and Chloe. On another horse is Lydia’s disappointment that I won’t be returning to Earth with her and all my worries about actually getting her home. Roan and I are riding adjacent horses. Actually, scratch that— Roan and I are riding the same horse, cuddled up together, blissful.

From somewhere downstairs, on the lowest level of Killan’s house, I hear distant voices. Chloe’s, I think. Probably still arguing with Lydia. Maybe Mr. Smith’s voice… Definitely Killan’s, hashing out exactly how filming is going to continue. He’s in his element, barking orders and expecting everyone to comply.

“Come on.” I tug on Roan’s arm. “Let’s get out of here before they return.”

Eagerly, he follows, and we dash down the passage to Roan’s cottage—our cottage.Bursting through the door, Roan practically tosses me over his shoulder and sprints into the bedroom. He brushes my clothes off the mattress, and they go sailing across the floor.

“Wait a second.” Disentangling myself, I grab my clothes, draping them over the cameras. I know they’re still off, and technically there shouldn’t be any way for Mr. Smith or Chloe to turn them back on now that they’re locked up in Killan’s house without access to their spaceship or tablets, but I want to be doubly sure of our privacy.

When I turn back to the bed it’s to see Roan shucking off his boots and diving onto his side of the mattress.

His side.

It’s these simple things that make me smile, and I’m grinning as I pull my jumper over my head.

Roan’s eyes widen, and he lifts himself on his elbows, all the better to watch, so I make a show of it. Bending seductively as I remove my jeans. Wiggling my hips as I step out of my panties.

For a second, I wait for that little voice in my head to berate me for making a fool of myself, for making too much of something that doesn’t mean the same to Roan as to me. But it doesn’t come. For once, the negative part of my brain is silent, so I continue wiggling my hips as I slowly, slowly slide my bra straps down my arms, unclipping the hooks.

Roan’s hand is at his bulge, releasing his cock. It’s red and hot and already leaking. He strokes himself, and my thoughts short circuit. I freeze, mesmerized.

It takes me way too long to realize that if I were to take three small steps forward I could be the one stroking his cock—and Roan could be the one stroking me. I practically leap the distance, and the bed bounces under my suddenly-added weight.

I tumble on top of him. Carefully, of course. I don’t want to damage the gem of the show. And then the gem is in my hand, and dreams really do come true.

“Harlee—” Roan moans my name, then he flips us so fast I squeal.

Kissing his way down my stomach, he tosses one of my legs over his shoulder and buries his face in my pussy, licking, lapping, sucking, teasing. I can hear how wet I am, and pleasure has my toes curling as I squirm against him, both desperate for him to press harder and almost too overwhelmed by the tingles flowing through me. I grab restlessly at his horns, needing to hold on to something for fear I’ll float away.

My pleasure peaks, and I scream, completely and utterly obsessed with the alien between my legs. Completely and utterly uninhibited by self-consciousness.

“I have something for you.” Roan says much, much later. We’re laying on his bed, tangled together. I might have been sleeping. Or maybe I was in a stupor, sated and loose-limbed. Happy.

“Oh?” I tip my head back so I can see his face. Using his chest as my pillow, what I actually see is the underside of his scaly chin. “What is it?”

Reaching overhead, to the shelf over the bed, he fumbles around for a second before drawing down another tablet. It’s smaller than his main one, with battered and scratched corners, as if this is his old tablet. I’ve got a distant memory of us abandoning his newer, everyday tablet in Killan’s kitchen, when we’d made our mad dash to the bedroom.

He clicks the ‘on’ button, but the screen takes a while to light up, reminding me of an old computer, struggling to work. When it’s eventually displaying the home screen, Roan opens a document he’s got saved, and the screen is filled with a zoomed-in version of my brochure, the one Chloe gave me on our first day.

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