Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
It seems to take forever for Rem’eb to finally return to my hut, and when he does, he’s dressed much the same as before—yellowish-gold kilt, sandals, and a bare chest, a few decorative beads holding his thick hair back from his face. Something on his tray smells delicious and warm, but I focus on the knife in my hand instead, and when he steps forward and the door is closed, I strike.
It’s childishly easy to poke the knife at the small of his back and get behind him. “Don’t move.”
Rem’eb goes still, just as instructed. “Shall I put the tray of food down first?”
The tray? Do I want to eat before I escape? I might need my strength. I hesitate—
Rem’eb’s long tail smacks against my hand, knocking the knife from my grasp. With a sucked-in breath, I try to catch it before it tumbles to the ground, only for the alien to grab me with two arms, the tray still held in his other hand.
He pulls me against him and one arm loops around my shoulders and neck, holding me tight. He leans in close, his mouth dangerously near my ear. “I left you the knife so you could feel safe, Tia. Not so you could stab me.”
There’s no menace in his tone. Just a simple exasperation, as if he’s annoyed that I tried to gut him and take him hostage. I squirm in his grasp, trying to wriggle my way free, and he sets the tray down with a fluid motion, never letting me go even though the action bends both of us over. I thrash harder, and he loses his balance. We both tumble onto my bed, and he curls himself around me protectively, so I don’t hit the floor.
When my head stops spinning, I’m sprawled over his chest as he holds me close. I gasp, trying desperately to push off of him even as one warm hand slides over the small of my back. Rem’eb stares up at me, his gaze fascinated.
“Are all of your people so lovely?” he asks, voice husky. “Every time I look at you, it steals the breath from my lungs.”
My pulse thrums in response. It’s not just the flattery. It’s that electric charge hanging in the air around us. I can feel the warmth of his skin, the sheer size of him against me, and those questioning, intelligent eyes that watch me as if I’m the best thing ever.
I should be fighting my way free. Instead, I’m fighting the irresistible urge to lean in and kiss the hell out of him.
“Is your khui as silent as mine?” he asks. “Because I feel as if it must be humming when I look at you. But then I touch my chest and all is quiet. I do not understand. So it must be you and your beauty that simply entrances me, lovely Tia.”
Goddamn it, I am absolutely susceptible to flattery, it seems. Because I’m going to kiss him. I lean forward, my nose brushing against his much larger one, and let my breath play over his lips. I can feel the tension building in his massive frame, the way he watches me so closely, his gaze flicking from my eyes to my mouth.
“Don’t hold this against me, all right?” I whisper, and then I brush my mouth over his.
It’s just a kiss. I’ve kissed plenty of men since arriving on this planet. For a while, I thought I’d drown my worries and despair about being dragged from Earth in the arms of boy-toys and flirting partners. Those kisses were exploratory. Light. Fun. Some of them were bad. All of them meant absolutely nothing.
This one, though…this one means everything.
It’s just the barest graze of my lips to his, and yet I feel it jolt through my body, heat pulsing between my thighs. His mouth is soft, as I knew it would be. Soft and faintly sweet, his breath pleasant and warm. I love the soft hitch of his breath that tells me he’s affected by the kiss. There’s no tongue, no intense make-out session, and yet I feel utterly and completely wrecked.
I move back again, so I can look into his eyes.
Rem’eb swallows, looking as shaken as I am. “I do not understand.”
“It’s a kiss—”
“Why is my chest yet silent if I feel like this when I am with you?”
Oh. Why is it that everything he says comes out sounding incredibly romantic? Why does he have to be the freaking enemy? “I shouldn’t kiss you again,” I whisper, even as I lean in and do just that. “Just ignore me.”
He doesn’t understand my words, of course. He groans, his hands twitching against my skin as if he wants to touch me and yet doesn’t want to interrupt me. I’m completely in control of this moment, and maybe I’m an idiot, but I want to keep going.