Page 27 of I Fell for an Alien Popstar

She dipped her head as if she were bowing, then closed her mouth around my nipple. Heat rolled through me as she sucked, her tongue moving in unhurried strokes that pulled a low sound from my throat.

She kissed her way across the valley between my breasts, then took the other nipple into her mouth, teasing until my fingers slid up around her neck, holding on. My thoughts thinned out, everything else fading until there was only the pull of her mouth and the warm rush beneath my skin.

Her hand drifted to my hip, fingers toying with the strap of my underwear. I caught her wrist.

She stopped instantly, her eyes meeting mine and searching for discomfort.

Guilt twisted low in my chest, but I shook my head.

“I’m sorry—stars, I’m sorry,” I whispered, guiding her hand back up until our foreheads brushed. “I really need to stop. I trust you. I just… don’t want to rush this.”

For a second, she only looked at me, soft and confused. Then she smiled—dazed and tender—and pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll wait, remember?”

She smoothed my shirt back down over my torso, the charged tension dissolving into something warm and safe. When she pulled me into her arms again, I went easily, breathing in her steady rhythm until it started to ground me.

The ghost of what had just happened lingered as a dull ache between my thighs, but my pulse finally steadied. I pressed closer, exhaling against her skin.

Zhari’s arms wrapped around me, holding me in a loose, easy embrace. I smiled and nuzzled into the curve of her neck, breathing in her scent as my eyes drifted shut.

With our limbs tangled together and her heartbeat a steady thrum against my chest, I let the heavy pull of sleep take me under, sinking into dreamless dark.

Iwoke to two hearts that weren’t mine. With Zhari having a dual pulse, I’d forgotten that meant she had two hearts, which sounded so romantic when you set biology aside.

For a disoriented second, I thought my bed had learned percussion. Then memory settled back into place, and I realized the heartbeats were pressed against my spine.

Zhari’s arm was around my waist, her hand splayed across my belly. Her chest rose and fell against my back. We must have drifted together sometime during the night, the kind of slow migration born from muscle memory and want.

I shifted slightly—not away, just enough to remind myself I still could. Her arm tightened in response, pulling me closer with that lazy, unthinking strength I’d already started to crave.

“Good morning, my little noodle.” Zhari pressed herself closer to me.

“Morning,” I murmured.

“I hope you slept well,” she murmured against the back of my neck, her voice groggy.

“I did. For the first time in so long,” I whispered as I turned to face her.

She made a small, amused sound and cracked one eye open. The morning light from the window painted her in soft pink-gold.

“Question. Did we steal this bed from a minor god?” I snuggled happily into the mattress.

Zhari let out a quick laugh. “It sure feels that way, doesn’t it?” she said, stretching. Her T-shirt rode up just enough for me to see how bare she was beneath her see-through panties. “All the suites I stay in have these beds, so I’m pretty lucky.”

I let out a long sigh and looked away. “Well, I feel so refreshed I could run a marathon. Maybe two. So it deserves praise from me, at least.”

She laughed while still stretching and pushed herself upright.

Beyond the door, Sira’s voice echoed through the corridor. Something about pulling her from the crowd, a promotional stunt, and the fact that I had a life to get back to—but the words faded as soon as Zhari looked at me instead. Her glow had softened to a faint shimmer, her shoulders twitching beneath her shirt.

“We should shower first. Warm showers help with everything, even Sira.” Her eyes flicked to the bathroom, then back to me. “My shoulders ache. Will you join me?” She smiled.

I pictured her naked immediately. Water beading off her curves, her wet blue hair clinging to her skin as droplets ran down her shoulders. My thighs pressed together on the bed against the ache building low between them.

Vada, get up. She’s asking.

Years of sketching her face alone in my dark flat and eating vending-machine dinners by myself, and now she was here, offering.