Page 65 of Stripped By the Alien

I reach out and hook a finger beneath one of the straps crossing his chest. "Maybe," I say, trying and failing to sound innocent, "you should stop being patient."

The membrane closes behind us, sealing away the noise and activity of the Beast.

The change is immediate. All the tension we've carried from the command chamber, from the Queen's summons, from Sophia, and from the uncertainty waiting ahead narrows into something much simpler.

Krix'vorr turns toward me, and I stop seeing the Chief Harrower who commanded a battle. I stop seeing the warrior who crippled an enemy vessel and mercy-killed a wounded enemy. What remains is the male who held me a short while ago and made the rest of the universe disappear.

Neither of us pretends otherwise.

His hand settles at my waist while mine comes to rest against his chest. The contact sends warmth through me. We stand there for a moment, looking at each other, both fully aware of what we want.

"Nora." The way he says my name does strange things to me. His voice is deep enough that I feel it more than hear it.

I move closer, all the way up to him until we touch.

His arm closes around me immediately, drawing me against him. When he kisses me, there is no hesitation in it. We've already crossed that boundary.

I worry a bit about those mandibles, but they only brush softly against my chin, like a silky beard would. Okay, now I get one reason why his extremely intimate healing process had such an effect on me.

One of his hands slips into my hair while the other presses against the small of my back, holding me close enough that I can feel the heat of him through the ridiculous tape wrapping.

For several heartbeats, the rest of the galaxy ceases to matter.

The Queen can wait. The Nest can wait. Everything beyond this chamber can wait. Even the Earth.

When the kiss breaks, neither of us moves very far. I remain pressed against him, my forehead brushing his jaw while I catch my breath. His hand continues moving through my hair, and the simple gesture makes it difficult to remember why I was worried a few minutes ago.

"I've been thinking about this since we left the command chamber," I say, my voice hoarse.

A low rumble moves through his chest beneath my hand. "I’ve been thinking about this since we left this chamber last."

“Oh… me too,” I admit.

His fingers travel across the tape wrapped around my body. The material creaks softly beneath his touch. I feel his attention on it and follow his gaze downward. "I still maintain that this is excellent clothing."

I laugh despite myself. "You're the only male in the universe who thinks a roll of repair tape is fashionable."

"It serves its purpose," he replies. His expression remains perfectly serious. "You're protected."

"From meteorite impact,” I state as I run my hand up his hard abdomen.

His hand cups a breast outside the silly tape. “And assassins.”

“Is that a real danger?”

His hands slide down my body. “At the Nest, certainly.”

At his touch, long strips fall away and gather around my feet while Krix'vorr watches with the complete concentration of a male observing something he enjoys very much. When the last section finally releases, his gaze rises to mine.

The warmth in his eyes leaves no doubt about what he's thinking. For a moment neither of us speaks. I become aware of my own heartbeat, of the closeness between us, and of the certainty that neither of us wants to be anywhere else. Then his hand rises to my cheek. I lean into it without thinking.

This time, when he kisses me, the last remnants of distance disappear.

His mouth moves from mine to the curve of my throat. I feel the careful graze of his mandibles against my pulse point, then the slow drag of his tongue along the tendon of my neck. My head falls back and my hands grip the hard ridges of his shoulders.

"If this is the last time…" I whisper, and immediately his arms tighten around me.

"Don't say that." His voice vibrates against my skin. "But if it is…" He lifts me off the floor entirely, one arm beneath my thighs, the other cradling my back, and carries me to the resting platform as though I weigh nothing at all. He sets me down and stands over me, and the sight of him, enormous, armored, wings half-spread, eyes burning with that impossible green intensity, makes something low in my belly clench hard.