Page 111 of Stardusted
The strange, sinking jealousy wasn’t either. I’d had sex before, too. Also with humans.
He was an alien, sure, but it made sense they had…needs. It was a biological imperative in most species to procreate. Sky having mating urges checked out.
Unfortunately, the thought of Sky doing any mating threatened to make my insides liquify again. Especially because, for an alien, he sure had kissing down. Was that how Pladians did it, too? Or had he just adapted to life on Earththatwell?—
My pent-up breath spilled out in a rush, and I made myself focus on Sky’s voice instead.
“I’m willing to bet you just emitted a signal again, and I don’t know why this keeps happening,” he was saying when I tuned back in. It took me a second to realize he wasn’t talking about the kissing. He burrowed both hands through his messy hair and frowned at me, oblivious to my private analysis of his race’s mating habits. “I don’t know what’s triggering this.” He jerked his chin at my hand before meeting my eyes again, expression grave. “But I think we need to find out, because whatever the reason, it puts you in danger.”
Oh, I was in danger, all right.
For more reasons than I could count.
There were alien robots chasing me. My hand was doing a very weird glowy thing.
And there was a very confusing, half-naked alien in my stairwell.
Who, for some insane reason, I still very much wanted to kiss some more.
I was in serious danger, but especially when it came to the latter.
Chapter 27
ATTACK OF THE KILLER SWEATPANTS
Ishifted from butt cheek to butt cheekon my worn couch. Despite the half hour that’d passed, the awareness hadn’t gone anywhere. It had only gotten worse. Like not acknowledging it had made the awkwardness grow exponentially.
Not even my panic-order of Chinese comfort food had helped.
It’d arrived right after my very cold shower. Now I surveyed it from my spot beside Sky, resisting the urge to look at him. Mostly because every time I did, I remembered the soft, tortured sound he’d made when I’d kissed him and how those long, graceful fingers he kept running through his hair had gripped my thigh?—
Clearing my throat, I twisted the hem of the baggy concert tee, curling further into the couch’s arm. My damp braid soaked into the shirt’s back, and I tugged it over my shoulder, toying with the end.
Sky was spread out on the couch’s opposite end, one arm slung over the back, his long legs crossed at the ankles. Because I was a masochist, I gave in and risked glancing his way.
Which was a mistake.
Not because he was frowning in confusion at the excessive spread of takeout littering my coffee table…but because while I’d taken the chilliest shower known to man, Sky had changed into a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants.
Gray. Sweatpants.
He’d had them in his SUV, he claimed. Why he was carrying around thirst-trap clothing, I couldn’t begin to guess.The threadbare shirt clung to his torso, and the sweatpants…well, they weren’t doingmeany favors.
Clearly, the universe hated me.
I jerked my attention away from the fabric molded to his muscular thighs and focused instead on his hair. It’d dried the rest of the way into soft curls and messy tufts. He usually wore it so neatly. This tousled version made him seem…younger. Approachable.
Too approachable. Especially now that I knew how silky it was?—
Sky moved then but only to look between me and the dozen takeout boxes. He appeared concerned. Understandably. I’d ordered enough for four starving people. And I wasn’t even hungry.
I couldn’t take this tense silence anymore.
“So—” I began.
At the same time, he said, “What?—”
We both stopped. I sniffed a laugh. My nerves were tripping over themselves. I drew up my legs and adjusted my position until I faced him. He watched me with a slight, guarded smile.
