Alexander leaped off my lap onto the table and did that cat thing. He swiped at the cup but bumped the bottle.
The glass container fell, shattering into so many pieces around my bare feet that the ground glistened as if covered in a light dusting of snow.
“Well, shit.” I looked around for my slippers, saw them several feet away, just inside the back door. I sighed and glared at Alexander the Not So Great. “That was rude, Fluffybutt.” He was going back to his undignified nickname after this.
“Meow mowwrr meow.”
“I don’t speak cat.” I tapped the bump under my ear where the Everians had implanted what they called a Neural Processing Unit—or NPU—that instantly translated every language all the aliens spoke. Humans, too. Which was cool. Kinda. I could understand everyone at the airport now, no matter what language they were speaking, just couldn’t answer. Which was frustrating. “We need to tell the alien nerds to update their tech and add cat.”
He stared at me like he understood every word I said, yeowling at me when I gingerly placed my feet on the concrete. “Here goes nothing.”
“No!”
Was that a man’s voice? Sounded like someone had their TV on too loud next door. Either that, or I was hearing things. Didn’t matter. Suddenly, I was bone cold and just wanted to go inside.
I stood, cursing up a storm as the broken splinters of glass dug into my feet.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I tip-toed three more steps and made it to the back door. The balls of my feet were on fire. I didn’t look down, didn’t want to see the blood—if there was any. I was probably just being dramatic.
The sound of glass shattering behind me made me turn.
Alexander sat on the very edge of the table looking innocent as the day he was born, my drink glass now in pieces next to the bottle on the ground. “Damn cat.”
I wanted to yell, but I didn’t have the energy left after the sob-fest, and the fact that my feet felt like they were on being poked with dozens of needles. “See if I feed you tomorrow.”
Definitely wouldn’t be using glassware on the concrete patio again. Duh.
Door open, I looked down at my feet. Yes indeed. Bit of blood. Nothing dramatic, but still…
I glanced at the pale, gray carpeting in the living room with a sigh.
How was I supposed to get through the house without making a mess?
“Stop. Do not move.” A deep, raspy male voice made me squeal. Jump.
Land on my glassed-up feet.
“Shit!” A sob escaped as strong arms wrapped around me and swept me off my feet. Iven—the sexy Viking—Smith, kindergarten teacher extraordinaire, cradled me against his mostly bare chest. His shirt—what was left of it—hung in tatters from his massive shoulders. His hair was soaked. Rain glistened on eyelashes so long they should be illegal. Intense hazel eyes focused on me like I was the only thing that existed in the world. What remained of his shirt was wet, clinging to his shoulder muscles and biceps. So hot. Worse, the skin on his chest and neck glistened like he’d just stepped out of the shower. I bit my lip to keep from leaning the few inches necessary to lick his skin.
What. The. Hell? Was I losing my mind? I did not react to men like this. Ever.
“What are you doing here?” I glanced at Alexander, expecting some kind of reaction.
The cat yawned, watching us with those intelligent blue eyes.
Definitely understood everything going on. Obviously did not feel Iven was a threat. I trusted the stupid cat and relaxed just a little.
Iven didn’t respond to my question, just carried me like precious cargo into the kitchen and settled me on the counter. He smelled amazing. Like fresh rain and sky and man. Somehow I just knew no one else in the world smelled like he did. He turned me so my feet rested over the sink and turned on the water.
“Iven.” I cleared my throat. “Mr. Smith.” No sense getting too personal when this was going nowhere, right? “What are you doing?”
“Iven.” He placed his hand under the water to check the temperature but his gaze locked with mine as he made his demand. “Say it again.”
My brain was not involved in the decision to move my mouth. “Say what?”
“My name.”
“Iven.” I wanted to chant it, preferably while his cock was buried deep and I was losing control from my third or fourth orgasm.
