But at some point during our time together, I stopped thinking of him as a hovering mother hen and started seeing him for what he really was—a big, muscular, tentacled alien who wanted to spend all his time with me.
Or, I totally and utterly misread him. That was possible, too.
I shook off the sudden feeling. I had no evidence to support my claim. It was embarrassing. How unscientific of me...
I cleared my throat, willing myself to get back to the task at hand. “It’s fine, Linn’ar. Don’t agree to anything for my sake. If you want to explore me, go ahead.”
His eyes flashed. It was clear he wanted to take on my offer. I didn’t know why that excited me. I blamed it on hormones. They did whatever they pleased, not giving a shit what the body owner wanted.
Linn’ar closed the gap between us so that I had to crane my neck back to look at him. His tongue darted out as he licked his lips.
“You can touch my feelers,” he said slowly. “But I should warn you that they are... sensitive.”
My brows rose in surprise. He implied they were an erogenous zone, but he had an entire mane of them, at least a hundred individual feelers. Wouldn’t they bump into things? Wouldn’t they bump intoeach other? If they were as sensitive as he made them sound, did that mean Maeleons existed in a constant state of heightened arousal?
Heat flooded my cheeks at the thought. Again with the hormones. When they weren’t performing tasks necessary for basic human function, they did nothing but irritate me.
“That’s fine.” Ignoring my unwilling reaction, I grabbed the study kit from my hard suit pocket. “As long as you’re comfortable with it.”
“Yes, I am.”
I nodded, unfurling the measuring tape. “In that case, I’ll begin by measuring the average feeler length.”
“All right.”
Without my prompting, Linn’ar knelt on the ground to give me easier access. His mane flowed behind him. It was a magnificent piece of biology that reminded me of sea anemones back on Earth.
At first, I found it strange to conduct research while butt-naked, but I quickly got over it. The pull of science swamped any discomfort. I rolled out the entire measuring tape and placed it flush against one of Linn’ar’s feelers.
Instantly, Linn’ar sucked in a small, sharp breath. He went still. His reaction was so sudden that I worried I’d hurt him.
“Was that painful?” I asked, ready to pull back the measuring tape.
“No,” Linn’ar said. His voice was thick.
The feeler in question was rigid now, matching Linn’ar’s spine, but it pulsated rapidly with flashes of color—hot pink, deep red, neon green. I hurried to note its length, then focused on the colors. What did they mean?
“How do you feel right now?” I asked.
His voice caught. “Ah... It feels... good.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. Even though I was performing a purely scientific act, I had to face the truth—I did brush up against Linn’ar’s erogenous zone. Which brought him pleasure.
Which was—sort of, kind of—bringingmepleasure.
I ground my teeth together, ignoring the fluttering sensation in my stomach as much as possible.
Begone, hormones.
But my command was useless. As Linn’ar twitched and shuddered under my touch, my temperature flared up. I couldn’t help but be affected by his little moans and huffs.
“Are you okay?” I asked brusquely, trying to mask my reaction.
“Yes. You don’t have to stop.”
Linn’ar didn’t blush the same way humans did, but he didn’t need to—his feelers revealed everything. They pulsed with flashing colors, flickering in bursts then slowing down, languid and sensual. There was something deeply erotic about it. It was like I could visuallyseehis arousal playing out across his feelers.
My heartbeat pounded in my throat. I swallowed, trying to focus on my task, but my head swam. I heard my racing pulse in my ears.
