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My body reacted immediately, heat washing over me in waves. It took all I had not to reach for her then and there, snag her into my arms, and consume her whole.
All the while, my head went dizzy. I knew this wasn’t easy for her. She didn’t engage in any kind of relationship with anyone. Melaina was the only human interaction she allowed, and theirs was not a bond of warm companionship. The fact that she was even willing to connect with me at all was an honor I would not dismiss.
I tried to calm myself. But I couldn’t. The most hard-nosed woman I’d ever met was willing to soften enough to let me into her elite circle of people. This was big. So, yeah, that freaked me the fuck out.
I drew out a slow breath through my nose and forced my nerves to relax.
Swinging my knee over to bump it lightly again hers, I rasped a quiet, “Hey.”
“What?” she asked, her voice full of suspicion.
“Tell me more about Earth. Is all the food there this awesome?”
Taking a bite, I looked up as she seemed to think the answer through. Then she finally nodded. “Yeah, on a whole, pretty much all the food is better there.”
“Damn.” I shook my head and gave a low whistle. “I’d eat all day long in a place with food like this everywhere.”
A flush worked over her cheeks. “I did
eat a lot,” she admitted. “And watched a lot of movies.”
“And devoured hundreds of those stupid books,” Melaina put in.
My eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You liked books?” I thought about the way she’d taken my journal and was so intent to crack it open and see what was inside. I suddenly wished I’d had a hundred more for her to scribble in.
“What did you write about?” I asked.
She frowned, seemingly confused for a moment, then she shook her head. “I didn’t write them. I just read what others had already written. What I think you’re talking about is more commonly known as a diary. Or a journal.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t known there was a difference. The only book that had come from my great-grandma’s plane had been a log she’d kept, and my book had tried to emulate that one.
“And there are a lot of those?” I asked. “Books for reading?”
“Millions,” she answered, joy and wonder flooding her system as she spoke. “My favorites were the fiction stories.”
When my brow knit, wondering what fiction was, she grinned and explained, “They’re made-up, fanciful adventures about people.”
I blinked, a little blinded by the sweetness of her grin. It was so stunningly beautiful that it took my breath for a moment.
I could only stare as she kept talking.
“Books were like a magic I’d never experienced before. Every story was its own world, complete and unique in itself. Sometimes it ended happily. Sometimes it ended sadly. But it always had some point to it, this deeper meaning that made me feel like it understood a place inside me that no one else ever could, and I went away at the end, feeling more important for having visited that land that didn’t even exist. More important than I ever felt in the real world.”
I ached to reach out and simply touch the back of her hand. I also wanted to feel sad for her, because what she said broke my heart. I didn’t like knowing she hadn’t felt worthwhile in the real world. But there was still that warm sense of homecoming and joy radiating off her, telling me she was grateful to have at least experienced life at all, through her books.
“I think I’d like to read a book like that,” I murmured.
“I’m not so sure you’d be the bookish type,” she countered, eyeing me with a considering squint. “You’re much too…” A flush stole over her as she coughed and muttered, “Physical.”
When a surge of arousal flooded me through my mark, my cock grew so uncomfortably constrained in my pants. I kind of worried it might pop the stitches in the fabric open.
I shifted slightly to make more room in the lap area and also to ensure that my thigh landed just a little closer to hers. Not about to let on that I knew she was currently desiring me, I innocently asked, “What was your favorite book?” Then I leaned in, just a fraction closer, guessing, “The Princess Bride one?”
Our knees brushed.
She noticed. Her gaze strayed down, and she couldn’t seem to look away. “No. I…” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I watched that one as a movie.”
“Hmm.” I reached out and caught a piece of hair that fluttered into her face with a gust of breeze. Her eyes jerked up. I smiled innocently and gently tucked the blond tresses behind her ear, then dropped my hand again, as I asked, “Then your favorite book was…?”
