Page 27 of Aliens Love Curves
Minutes later, I'm seated in front of Harlan on his personal glider—it's a one-seater, his chest pressed against my back as he takes the controls. His hands guide mine on the steering column, his breath warm against my ear.
"The circuit starts here," he explains as we rise into Ova's afternoon sky. "But the interesting parts...those are off the official track."
His thighs bracket mine as we bank toward a series of floating platforms. Each slight adjustment brings another point of contact between us, and I know it's deliberate. Just like I know Stryker is probably watching below from the hangar as we shoot into the Ovan skyline, his claws leaving marks in whatever he's holding.
"You're quite different from Equanox females," Harlan murmurs, his hands sliding down my arms. "They're all angles and straight lines. But you..." His fingers ghost along my sides. "These curves are fascinating."
I suppress a shiver that has nothing to do with desire. "I used to be self-conscious about being so different when I first arrived on Planet Ova."
"Don't be." His voice drops lower. "Some of us appreciate a more... substantial form."
The glider weaves between floating structures, many bearing ‘restricted access’ warnings. I force myself to focus, memorizing layouts and security measures even as Harlan continues his physical assessment of mysubstantial form.
By the time we land, I've counted twelve potential entry points to restricted areas, noted three suspicious cargo transfers, and endured countlessaccidentaltouches from my pilot.
"Thank you for the tour," I say, extracting myself from his embrace. "It was... illuminating."
"Perhaps next time we could make it dinner as well?" His fingers brush my cheek. "Without any... managerial oversight this time."
I manage a smile that I hope looks excited rather than nauseated. "I'd like that."
The walk back to my apartment feels endless. When I finally get inside, Stryker is sitting in the dark, staring out the window. His reflection in the glass shows an expression I've never seen before.
"Stryker?"
"Have a nice flight?" His voice is carefully neutral.
"It wasn't what you think."
"No?" He turns, and the raw emotion in his silver eyes makes my breath catch. "What exactly should I think when I watch him touch you like that? When I see you let him—"
"Let him?" Heat flares in my chest. "You think I enjoyed that? His hands all over me, his comments about my 'substantial form'?"
Stryker's up in an instant, crossing the room in three long strides. "He said what?
"It doesn't matter. It's what we needed – access to restricted areas, information about—"
His hands cup my face, cutting off my words. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the air between us electric with unspoken things.
"It matters," he growls, and then his mouth is on mine.
This kiss is nothing like the one in the simulator. That was discovery, exploration. This is possession, desperation, need. His tail wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against him as he walks me backward until my knees hit the bed.
We fall together, his weight pressing me into the mattress as his hands roam my body, erasing Harlan's touches with his own. I arch into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepens.
"Tell me to stop," he breathes against my lips, even as his tail tightens possessively around my thigh.
Instead, I pull him closer, pouring all my frustration and wanting into the kiss. He groans, the sound vibrating through both our bodies.
"Casey," he murmurs between kisses, "we shouldn't—"
"Shut up," I gasp, nipping at his lower lip. "Just... shut up."
His response is to trail burning kisses down my neck, his hands sliding under my shirt to find bare skin. Every touch is a claim, an assertion, a promise.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Stryker's pupils are blown wide, his pink skin flushed darker with desire. I probably don't look any more composed.
"This complicates things," he says finally, though he makes no move to release me.