I feel safe. And so I jump.
“Your hand is cold,” I tell him in a low voice.
For a moment, disappointment flickers across his normally laughing features. He starts to pull away, seeing my response as a decline of his attentions.
But I grip his hand, not willing to let it go. Instead, I guide it under my soft leather shirt and place it against my warm stomach, my gaze meeting his.
I’m letting him know that I want to go on. That I want more of this. More of him. That I’m living for today.
A low groan rumbles through my translator, and he leans forward, pressing his ridged forehead against my smooth one. “You will undo all my good intentions, Kira.”
“I didn’t know you had good ones,” I tell him, feeling breathless and a little flirty. This isn’t me, to be a tease. But I like pushing my boundaries with him.
And I love his response.
His fingers stroke against my stomach under my shirt, and it feels ticklish. I squirm a bit, and when his nose nudges mine and then his mouth brushes against my lips, I open up for him, accepting his kiss. I want to point out to him that he hasn’t mentioned his good intentions, but they suddenly seem unimportant. I just want more caresses. More touching.
Aehako’s hand strokes over my ribs and then moves up my shirt, to caress the globe of my breast. I suck in a breath, realizing just how big his hand is. My boob must be positively tiny to him. I think of the big, strong women of his tribe. I’m still a little frail from weeks of starving and captivity. My boobs certainly aren’t what they used to be, and they weren’t super impressive then, either.
But his fingers trace the curve of one breast and he kisses my lower lip, sucking gently on it. Jesus. For a man that didn’t know how to kiss until yesterday, he’s pretty darn good at it. “You are beautiful, Kira. As delicate as a scythe-beak.”
The compliment strikes me as a strange one, and a nervous giggle escapes my throat as I picture a killer toucan. Not a sexy mental image. “What’s a scythe-beak?”
“Shhh,” he says. “It isn’t important.” His thumb brushes over my nipple again, and then circles it.
I suck in a breath. His touch feels like utter perfection. I close my eyes, my legs weak against the onslaught of sensation. I feel his big arm go around my waist, supporting me even as I sag against the wall. He won’t let me fall. All the while, he presses soft, attentive kisses to my face.
“Tell me if my touch is too much,” he murmurs and then slicks his mouth over mine.
It’s never too much. It’s so good that I can hardly think straight. For once, the endless chatter in my earpiece doesn’t seem to matter. All that exists is Aehako’s big body pressing against mine, his arm gripping my waist, and that thumb that drags over my pebble-hard nipple.
“You are so soft, Kira,” Aehako says, nuzzling at my un-modified ear. He gently bites my earlobe and it sends shivers all through my body. I cling to him, lost in sensation. “Are you this soft everywhere?” he muses. “If I explored you between your legs, would I find you this soft?”
Oh God. A soft protest rises to my lips and then remains unspoken. I don’t want to stop him. I want him to discover all of me and to keep touching me. I’ve touched myself before, but it’s never felt half as good as his caresses.
My breath is gasping and ragged as he gently brushes his mouth over mine, and then his hand goes to the waistband of my leggings. It’s a draw-string, since buttons and zippers haven’t been invented here, and I seem to come apart the moment the knot does. My pants slide down my hips a few inches, loose, and my entire body is tense with anticipation.
His fingers stroke against my belly. “You are allowed to touch me, as well, Sad Eyes,” he says in a low, amused voice.
Oh. I blink my eyes open and realize my hands are fists curled up against his chest, unmoving. Of course he’d like to be touched, too. I’m such an idiot. I flatten my palms and grasp at his tunic. There are laces at the collar and I fumble with them, ever conscious of his gaze on my face and his hand stroking the soft skin of my lower stomach.
I don’t know how I’m expected to concentrate with all this going on. So I focus, trying to drown out everything but the task at hand. Operation: Touch Aehako. I pull at the laces of his collar, loosening them until they gape open and reveal an expanse of blue, muscled chest. My hand slides under the fabric and I touch him, surprised to feel the rough texture of more ridges over his heart. I always forget that these aliens have tougher, ridged skin over sensitive parts of the body. “You’re rough here,” I murmur to him, gliding my fingers over the strange patch of skin.