Oh, here we go. “I’m not answering that.”
“That means no,” he growls. “I want to try again.”
Desire surges through me at the thought of a repeat performance. “Um, okay.”
He rolls on top of me, pinning me down, and begins the most methodical dismantling of my defenses I’ve ever experienced. Unlike the first kiss that was all abandon, this kiss is slow and sweet. It’s like he’s searching for something, but he’s not sure what it is, so he’s carefully brushing away layers with the hope of revealing a hidden truth.
The truth I’m getting out of it is that I’m in deep fucking trouble with this one. If I thought the muscles and arrogancewere hot, this vulnerable, impassioned, driven version of Nik is pushing all my buttons.
I’ve given up on the idea that I have anything to teach him. It’s not that he’s skilled, he’s just sopresentandinvestedthat everything he does stokes my body higher. Everything he gives, I want to take. Everything he holds back, I want to learn.
He breaks away before I’m ready for it to end. “How was that? Better?”
“Different,” I mumble, a little dazed.
“Did it impress you?” he asks impatiently.
How do I even answer that? If I say no, it’s a lie. But if I say yes, he’ll stop. “I’m not sure. Maybe you should try again.”
What am Idoing? Being thoroughly kissed by an alien king, that’s what. Being licked and nibbled and driven out my mind. Being greedy.
No, I’m not doing this for me. I’m helping him. He wants to learn how to kiss, and what better way than practice? I’m like the CPR dummy I used when I had to recertify at work. I have the right anatomy. I can give him feedback so he has the skills later, when he needs them.
I try and make myself still and neutral, to be a receptive body and merely a stand-in for the real thing. But who am I kidding? That only lasts about a minute before I’m seeking him, pulling him closer, wrapping my legs around him, running my fingers over his bare shoulders.
“And that?” he demands, wrenching his mouth away from mine. “How does it compare?”
“It doesn’t.” I have no words for how bad I want his hands on me. How I want him to strip off these layers of clothes so he can play with my breasts and feel how wet he’s made me.
He growls and dives back in, and I realize he’s misinterpreted my words. He thought I meant it was bad when it was so far beyond anything I’ve experienced that I can’t even explain it.
This time his kisses aren’t gentle and probing, they’re a storm, electric and overwhelming. It’s glorious, and I don’t even try to stay neutral. Don’t try to stay out of the rain. I just let it soak in. We make out for what seems like forever, trading kisses like coins, like bullets, like prayers.
He never ventures below my jawline, doesn’t ask again about whether it’s good enough. He just kisses me until I soften, until my lips are chapped and my heart is sore because I can’t have this. It’s not mine.
“Sleep,” he says finally, when my lids have already tugged closed and my limbs are warm and heavy.
“She’ll be impressed, Nik,” I murmur drowsily. One more kiss in the center of my forehead is his only reply.
HE’S GONE IN THE MORNING, but after I shower and moisturize my poor chapped face and get dressed in a fresh five layers of fur, I find Aqen outside the door. For the first time in days, he looks me in the eye and smiles.
“Are you allowed to talk to me?” I ask, squinting at him. He seems okay, just a little subdued.
“Jara says I am to provide you with whatever you ask and take you anywhere you would like to go, as long as we do not visit tunnels that are still under repair. He will join you for lastmeal.”
“Yes!” I hold up my hand, and Aqen presses palms with me. Not exactly a high five, but close enough. “Let’s go find some food.”
A lot of work has been done since the last time I left my room. Rubble has been cleared and temporary supports have been erected in areas where the ceilings collapsed. The intact passageways are less crowded with sleeping warriors and injured miners than they were before, too. Aqen greets a few people we pass all the way to the cooking area and introduces meto some of his friends, but for the most part everyone is absorbed in their activities.
He shows me how to operate the kitchen appliances, and we cook a big batch of stew out of dried meat and some kind of root. “There is not much else to eat here,” he explains sheepishly. “The supply transports are irregular because of the volcanos, so we often run out of fresh foods. At least we always have tili wafers.”
“It’s good,” I assure him, scraping my bowl and licking the flat spoon. “Where shall we take the leftovers? The pits?”
“Maybe the sleeping quarters first. Jara Nik moved the injured there to free the pits for training,” Aqen explains.
“Oh right, he told me his sleeping quarters were still being used for the injured, and that’s why he had to stay in my room,” I say. Aqen gives me a funny look. “What?”
“Your quarters are his quarters. He was sleeping with the warriors during your stay, but he has always occupied that room.”
