But his body was right there. And the whole ravaging thing shut her logical brain up real quick.
She shook her head, jaw setting, and let her hand travel lower. His fingers still framed hers. He didn’t stop her.
“I’ve been eyeing you since the moment I got a good look at your face, Maelic.” Her voice dropped. “Even when you frightened me, I thought you were attractive.”
His face darkened another shade. The scent thickened. Her pussy gave a needy squeeze.
“I’m not the type of person who does something just because I’m aroused. Alien woo-woo or not.” Her hand drifted dangerously low. “We can get this out of our system. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Maelic stiffened, expression closing off. He moved her hand off his body, squeezing gently before he released her.
“I have never had that sort of relationship with a female.” He looked away, his earlier bravado slipping at the topic of his experience. “Or anyone, for that matter.”
A prick of rejection hit her, but she shook it off. It wasn’t like he was rejecting her outright. There was more to it.
“I wasn’t trying to force your hand or anything… Last night you seemed really into it, rut or not, and I know I was—”
“That is not it. You misunderstand me.” The words came in a rush. “I would be honored to bed you. But I have no experience in how to do so, and my biology is making that more difficult. Last night I was in a sort of… mating fever. I worry I will not be able to please you. Or worse, that I will hurt you or do something that cannot be undone.”
Her brows went up.
Wait. Did he mean he was a virgin?
“Oh, I—”
A rumble cut her off. Distant but distinct. A snowmobile.
Her brow furrowed and she looked toward the house through the thick trees.
Who could that be?
The annoyances of her life that she had miraculously ignored for the last twenty-four hours came crashing back.
“Can you stay here? I need to go see who that is, and you…” She eyed him.
Maelic’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. Not hard, but firm.
“You are going alone?” His eyes narrowed, scanning the direction of the noise. “I should accompany you. If they are hostile…”
“You’re a seven-foot tall Mothman in a Christmas sweater. Trust me, staying hidden is safer for both of us.”
He let out a sharp, frustrated huff of air, his wings puffing up behind him, but he released her hand.
“I will remain at the tree line,” he growled, his gaze burning into her. “But know, if you scream for help, I am coming out.”
Delaney nodded, unsure if she would really need that kind of backup.
She came out of the thick forest and spotted who was parked in front of her cabin.
Russell Grady. Owner of Winter Pines ski resort.
Her teeth gritted as he noticed her and waved. She approached with a smile that was forced and fake.
“Miss Hart! I’m glad you’re doing okay up here. I wanted to check in on you after that storm.” Russell climbed off his fancy snowmobile, dressed head to toe in expensive winter gear.
Delaney wanted to roll her eyes; she hated when Russell referred to her as Miss Hart.
“Yeah, it was a rough one. But as you can see, I’m fine. And I actually have a lot to do, so—”
