I expect him to give me comforting words. To tell me that it isn’t the case. That I’m safe with him. Instead, he gently blows on my hands again and says, “No one can predict what will happen tomorrow, Kira. I might fall off of a cliff and break my neck. I might catch a khui sickness. Or…I might live to be old and grizzled like Kemli and her mate Borran.” He shrugs his big shoulders. “But I do know that living in fear of what might happen prevents us from enjoying what we have today.”
Oddly enough, his words make me feel better. I slide a little closer to him, sharing his warmth. “I’m afraid I can’t turn my mind off enough to live in the moment. I wish that I could.”
“I can show you how,” he murmurs.
I stare at his mouth, fascinated by the flashes of sharp teeth behind those soft smiling lips. I shouldn’t kiss him. I shouldn’t want to kiss him. My time here is limited. The bad aliens are coming back, and they’re going to come straight for me, because I’m still wearing this stupid earpiece. But I’m so ridiculously attracted to Aehako that it’s insane. I want him to touch me. I want his kisses and his attention. I want to flirt back with him, even though every ounce of my being says that it’s a bad idea.
Damn it, I want flirting to be a good idea.
“Life can be sweet, even if you take it one day at a time,” he murmurs, and his fingers go to my tangled hair, brushing it away from my face.
I lean in to his touch. I can’t help myself. I’ve felt so isolated and alone since we were taken. I want to be able to relax in safety. I want someone to hold me close and tell me that everything’s going to be all right. “I’m afraid I might not have many days left,” I confess to him. My hand covers his, and I hold it to my cheek. He’s careful not to touch the hated translator piece jutting from my ear, but I’m all too conscious of it there. Even now it hums and chirps conversations from inside the cave into my head. I hate that it won’t be quiet. I want silence. I want an end to all the worry and anxiety.
Aehako leans in and tilts my face up to his. Intention is written over every line of his face. He’s going to kiss me. He’s also moving in slow enough that I can stop him at any time if I don’t want it.
But I do. So I grab one of his big horns and pull him down closer to me, closing the distance between us. His mouth meets mine, and then we’re hungrily kissing. His mouth slicks over mine, his tongue questing deep into my own mouth, and for a time, I forget all about aliens or the chatter inside. I forget about the translator surgically attached to my ear. I forget about everything but the soft lips of the man kissing me, and his wonderful taste. Of the gentle clash of our teeth when our kiss gets too enthusiastic. Of the way his tongue coaxes against my own, encouraging me to be just as aggressive as him.
His hand slides up to my breast and he pushes me back – and to my surprise, I realize I’m pressed up against the cliffside, the smooth rock hard against my spine. His hand goes to my breast, his mouth never lifting from mine. I give a small squeak in surprise against his lips when his thumb grazes my nipple. That small touch sends skitters of pleasure all through my body, jolting nerve endings that I didn’t realize I had. My pulse hammers through me, and I want him to do it again. I break our kiss and stare up at him, panting. “I…”
“Is it too much?” he asks, voice low and husky and so sexy it makes me want to melt right into the snow. “Are you too cold?” His knuckles lightly trace a trail between my breasts. “Shall we go inside?”
Once again, he’s letting me lead. I’m more skittish than a fawn, unsure and trembling all at once. I know what I want, but it wars with common sense.
What if I let myself get attached to Aehako and he resonates to someone else tomorrow? What if the aliens take me away just when I give in to the longing that’s rippling through me?
His thumb brushes across my swollen lower lip. “One day at a time, Kira,” he murmurs.
It’s as if he can read my mind. Even if tomorrow goes to hell, we have today. Maybe I need to claim today for myself. Maybe I need to make a few memories to carry me through the bad things that are certain to be ahead.
So I take his hand in mine and stare down at it. We’re so different, he and I. My skin is the pinkish-white of untanned human flesh; his is the blue of his people, and suede-like in feeling. Three big knuckles lead to three thick, strong fingers tipped with shiny bluish fingernails in blunt squares. My hand looks positively tiny against his, but I don’t feel threatened with him.