Jordan grunts a loud, “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck! I’m gonna…” His jagged breaths and the slick skin-on-skin sounds make my heart rate pick up again. I fumble with my phone, hoping to see something, but it’s only white ceiling.
“Come for me, hon,” I say. “Let me hear you.”
A second later, he lets out a long groan. The slick noises increase before stopping, as if he’s too sensitive to continuejacking. I hear a soft whimper that almost sounds like a cry of relief.
I crack a smile, wishing I could see his face. Rolling to my side, I stay as far away from the mess as I can. “You as high as I am right now?”
The screen shifts, then clatters to the floor, facing upward.
Jordan curses, and with what sounds like monumental effort, he pulls himself to the edge of the bed to get the phone, but collapses on the mattress, arms and hair hanging over the edge. A few dark strands stick to his damp skin.
So beautiful.
Neither of us say anything for a long moment, then he pulls one arm under his chin.
“Guess you really like my new underwear, huh?”
I sputter a laugh. “I think I like what they were covering more, but yes. They were fun.”
He smiles at me. “We’ve got to figure this camera thing out. I got robbed. Missed the best part.”
I snort. “You and me both. But you heard plenty. We both did.”
Jordan hides his face a little, the barest hint of red touching the skin around his eyes. I see a flash of… something—concern, maybe—before he rolls away. “Anyway, where were we before I distracted you with my big dick? Oh, right. You have an owl to finish.”
I sputter. “Shit. I do!”
“Want me to go?”
“No. I need to clean up, but I’d love to talk for a while if you want to.”
He reaches for his phone, and his smile is genuine. “I do.”
9
JORDAN
Iwake up the next morning breathless and sweating, like someone yanked me from a fight. My heart hammers, my skin turning clammy. The edge of a dream hovers in my periphery, the details hazy. But his face is crystal clear.
Charlie.
His lips move fast, face red with emotion. His words are there, right there, in the corner of my mind. I can almost hear them, see them. Whole sentences, pieces of whole scenes lingering just out of reach.
Adrenaline courses through me, hot and unfamiliar. The tiniest of spark, attempting to catch fire. I haven’t felt this in years… and it’s fading fast.
Maybe I can still capture it…
Scrambling out of bed, I nearly trip on the blanket tangled around my legs, but I don’t stop. I just move. Fast. Like if I don’t, Charlie will disappear for good.
Clematis meows in annoyance when I bat her off the recliner to thrust my hand into the side pocket for my notebook. The soft leather cover is cool and familiar against my fingers. Almost sacred. My pen shakes in my hand as I open to a blank page, desperate to catch whatever fragments I can.
I focus on Charlie, his scaly human skin and golden cat-like eyes, but I... I can’t quite see him anymore. He’s already blurry. I can’t make out where he is either. Everything flashes in broken snippets, disjointed and hazy.
But I can still feel his panic, his confusion. Charlie is desperate, screaming into a void about…something.His anger is an acrid burn in the back of my throat. Fast and wild. Unforgiving.
Like everything else on his damn planet.
But what?Whatis making him so emotional?
