Page 32 of Alien's Challenge
“Is all this new growth?” she asked, running her hand down his back to his hip. The scales absorbed the oil quickly, like soaking in the hot tub had stripped them.
“Growth happens quickly over the first day.”
A jagged line of pink scar tissue sat at his lower back. The scar was not as old as the others on his arms and shoulders.
“Something happened here,” she said, brushing her fingers over the tissue. His tail flinched, thumping loudly against the floor. “Sorry,” she said.
“It is sensitive.”
“Looks like it didn’t heal well.” She worked the oil into the surrounding scales.
“No. It was a wound meant to kill me,” he said. Then, in a grumbling voice, “Rand is sloppy in many ways.”
“Randevere did this.” She brushed against the scar again. His tail twitched slightly.
“I do not wish to speak of the male.”
Understandable.
She finished his lower back, arms, and even the back of his neck. “The feathers?”
“Quills,” he corrected. He then reached up and pulled away the remaining quills. “They were falling out.”
She massaged his skull. At first, his posture was ramrod straight, as if unused to being touched, but then the giant lizardman melted. She dug her fingers in and wondered how often he was touched by another person, even platonically. The last person to touch her was the masseuse who worked on the knot in her upper back, and that had been two months ago.
Two years and two months ago, actually. So she was touch-starved. Big deal. She was human.
Faris leaned back against her, his slippery back against the cottony front of her robe. The friction made her nipples rock hard. She wondered if he could feel them.
“And your tail?” she asked.
He stilled, then answered in a soft yes.
“Is that too intimate? Tell me if I’m overstepping. I don’t know what the social protocols are regarding tails,” she said.
“Generally, you do not touch another’s tail unless you intend to build a nest with them,” he said.
“That sounds nice.” And permanent. Playing with the lizardman’s tail was more than flirting but she couldn’t stop her hands from staying.
The scales were smooth, large at the base, and diminishing in size toward the end. A throaty groan vibrated in him loud enough that she felt it.
He twisted to face her. Hunger burned in his eyes. “Alice Serrano.”
It was a question.
“Yes,” she answered.
He slammed his face against hers. The hard scales of his forehead hit hers.
“Oww!” She jerked away, covering her mouth with her hand for protection. “What was that?”
“I replicated what you did yesterday.” He paused. “There is nuance to the maneuver,” he muttered.
A kiss. That headbutt was his attempt at a kiss.
“Like this,” she said, rubbing her fingers along the spikes of his jaw. They were more flexible than she expected. She drew him in and slanted her head to the side to avoid bumping noses.
She pressed a soft kiss to his lips and drew back.
