Page 25 of January Bell

I glare at him. “Did you want to do it or not?” I ask. “You don’t have to be sassy about it.”

“Ah, but I think that you secretly like when I am sassy, because it lets you hide inside of your shell more,” he says knowingly.

Annoyed, I take the shower head from his hand, and it immediately turns off.

“Are you going to make it where I can’t know how to work this thing so you can touch me all over and clean me?”

I shouldn’t have said that out loud, because the minute I do, his eyes heat, and so does my skin.

“Suit yourself,” he says. “All you have to do is squeeze it lightly, and you will find that things come out of it. Perhaps you are familiar with this process?”

My mouth drops open. I should have suspected that he would make this suggestive, and yet I didn’t. So here we are—me, shocked, turned on, filthy, and denying being touched by the one person that can make me feel better.

Great.

“On Earth, it takes a lot more for men than one light squeeze to finish,” I tell him icily.

Both eyebrows lift up, his lips parting, showing off just the barest touch of pointed fang.

“Truly, your fascination with all things alien cock should be studied,” he finally manages dryly. “Weren’t you talking about the—” he gestures to the strange wand of a shower head and then to himself.

He gives me an amused look, a small puff of air coming out like a laugh. “I was simply talking about the equipment to help you clean yourself.”

A wicked light gleams in his eyes as his gaze rakes across my body, slowly, leaving fire in its wake as he drags it back up again. He licks his lips, the tip of his tongue lingering on his fang. “But I’m happy to test out just what your soft little hands can do to me, if that’s what you’re offering.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I say, annoyed at getting myself into this situation again. Did I really have to make an innuendo when he was sincerely trying to help me clean?

“I’m not going to make you do anything, Lily, but if you want to satisfy your own curiosity…” He gestures to the hard protrusion between his legs, covered up by pants.

My mouth grows dry, and I swallow, then cough, realizing I’m staring at it. It’s hard not to, because it’s⁠—

“It’s moving?”

“It skithes for you,” he says, satisfied with my curiosity and attention.

“Do I want to know what that means?”

“From the way that you’re still staring at it, I assume that you do.”

His hands move to his waistband, and he starts to lower them, revealing hard-cut abs. Wetness blooms between my thighs because, my gosh, I do want to see that. I want to see it so badly. To satisfy my curiosity. That’s all it is. Just curiosity. That’s all this is.

I’ve never seen that before. Well, I’ve seen plenty of that, but not a purple one. I tilt my head, fascinated in spite of myself.

“I’m not going to show you unless you ask,” he says, his gaze hungry but his tone light.

“Fine, show me,” I say, waving a hand dismissively.

“Ah,” he tuts. “You have to ask nicely.”

“Fine.”

I make the most suggestive eye contact I possibly can. Because if he is going to tease me, then I’m going to tease him right back, and that’s just how this is going to work.

“I’d like to see your alien cock please,” I tell him as sweetly as I can. Slightly sarcastically, but sweet enough… for me.

There’s no denying the sheer lust in his face now, and I realize that maybe I’ve overplayed my hand because I’m feeling it too.

He reaches out a finger tipped in one of those sharp lavender talons. And just barely strokes the lethal tip of it across my jawline.