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He scooped her off her feet.
“Wha—”
Caligher made straight for the bathroom, setting her down and going for the door. “But I just took a shower,” she complained. Warm steam still clouded the room.
“Don’t care.” He ripped open the glass door and started the water before turning to her. “Clothes off.”
Her cheeks glowed with heat as she simply stared at him.
Sure, they’d talked it over, set down ground rules, but she found this whole sex thing frankly intimidating. She wanted it. Holy hell, she wanted it. But she was never going to get used to him.
Caligher made for a nerve-wracking roommate.
She could say no, or stop—but she felt so alive whenever she turned a corner of her ship and wondered if she was about to be jumped. She felt that expectant thrum of arousal on a near-constant basis.
His eyes crinkled with cheeky humor. “You need help undressing?”
She reached for the door button, but he had her in his arms in an instant. The door shot open, stalled for a few seconds, and slammed shut in her face as he began stripping her. One boot off—then the other. He worked the zipper down her chest as his arm banded around her stomach.
Handsy fucking bastard.
“Cal, you’re getting all that gross stuff on my clothes.”
“Sorry,” he said, abandoning her zipper at her sternum. Instead, he shoved her into the shower, jumpsuit and all.
“Caligher!” she shrieked, staring at him like a cat stuck out in the downpour. “What the hell?”
His eyes were fixed on her chest, on the hardening outline of her nipples against dark wet fabric.
“Pervert,” she hissed, covering her chest.
He caught her arm and stepped into her, trapping her against the inner wall. His lips were on hers in a flash of movement, kissing her rudely with ravenous pressure. He swallowed down her grunts, the illicit moan that freed itself as he caught her lower lip and nipped her, sending sharp twists of pleasure downstairs.
He released her lips, leaving her panting, brushing heavy locks of hair from her face. She thumped against the wall and stared at his body. Streaks of iridescent oil dripped down his body in uneven paths, glittering like black sand. She could stare at him for hours. He began soaping himself up, mixing suds and oil while she watched with burning desire and irritation combined.
He took up nearly the entire stall, towering over her, his body and tail cutting off her exit.
Goddammit. As imposing as he was, it was kind of fun. She trusted that he would stop if she told him to and it gave her freedom to enjoy when he was like… this—himself—the same alien male who’d introduced himself by hoisting her ship up like an Easter egg.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, scrubbing the part of his lats just beneath the lip of carapace.
“Thinking?”
Rinsing larger streaks off, he didn’t elaborate. Most likely to make her wait on him.Oh, fuck this. She began unzipping her suit.
“I’ve had ideas for our next time,” he said.
Her hand abruptly paused. His lips quirked the tiniest amount, noting how easy it was to interrupt her. She tugged her zipper further.
“We could make a game of it,” he said, tracking that path.
She stopped again. “Right now?”
“In a few days.”
Relief and disappointment bombarded her in equal measure. To her frustration, it hadn’t turned into a perpetual romp through space. They’d only been together the one time and she wanted to be togetherallthe time.
How was she supposed to adjust to him if he continuously dragged it out? Maybe that was intentional. Keep her on edge.
