Page 65 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

I ponder his words. In my view, they amount to a declaration. In that moment, I dismiss my prior fears. There’s no way he could be so gentle with me if he planned to do something bad—to me or anyone.

That makes me bold. This must be new ground for him as well. If he’s lived in hiding, he hasn’t made other significant connections. What we have is special. And even if he’s leaving the first chance he gets, I don’t want to wonder what might have been, what joy I might have experienced, had I only dared.

I’m carpe-ing this diem.

I bounce off the bed and close the distance between us, heart beating frantically with anticipation. Seeker is so close that I can detect the subtle shifts of color in the patterns on his skin. He faces me, that intense, spiced scent deepening. I imagine that it means he’s attracted to me also. Please let that be true.

“Your pulse has quickened,” he observes. “And in secondary light spectrums, you’re radiating unusual heat.”

Oh dear God. Can he see that I want him?

Embarrassment heats my cheeks, along with the flush of arousal he’s already noticed. But in some ways, that makes things easier. He broached the subject, not me.

“I’m experiencing attraction,” I say, trying to sound calmer than I feel. “Does that… I mean, what does that look like for your people?”

“We’re different in many ways.” There’s a note of curiosity in his wonderful voice, and it vibrates along my skin, caressing me without contact. “But we do share certain sensations. Some beings do not mate for pleasure. My people do.”

“Mine too,” I whisper.

“Jen…” The way he says my name is a revelation with a little rumble on the N.

Before, I thought my full name was old-fashioned, and my nickname was common. But with him, I feel brand new, as if wonders await. I swallow hard, feeling like every star I’ve ever glimpsed through a telescope burns within my chest.

“Yes?”

I close the short gap between us, breath hitching because the air between us feels charged like the ionosphere during a meteor shower. But just as I’m about to brush my lips against the side of his face, he withdraws slightly, his back nearly to the window.

Shit. Am I making him uncomfortable? Maybe I misread the cues.

“I’m…concerned. About mingling bodily fluids. I don’t want to hurt you. Or vice versa.”

That…is a good point. I laugh softly. In the romances I read, aliens never worry about getting toxic shock syndrome from the bacteria in their human partner’s mouth. But Seeker’s a long way from home, and if he has a medical emergency, I can’t help.

“Why are you amused?” he asks.

“Because that objection is so you. Not that I disagree.”

“I’m glad you aren’t offended. If you’re willing, I could show you something else.”

If it gives me a chance to be close to him, I’m so there. “Color me curious.”

“It does, indeed, relate to my colors. Can you see the patterns? How they’ve deepened in hue to dark violet?”

Now that he’s mentioned it, the swirls of color do seem more concentrated and intense. “Oh, that’s pretty. What does it mean?”

“It’s a mating display. If you were of my people, you would respond in kind, show me your interest with your own shades.”

“A blush has a similar significance,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks heat.

I’ve never wanted someone like this. My skin feels too small, and normally I don’t struggle with my libido at all. In the usual course of things, I don’t think about sex too much, and if I do get turned on, I take care of it myself. The idea of waiting around for a partner is kind of puzzling to me.

“With your permission?” He’s waiting for my verbal assent, his seven-fingered hand hovering in the space between us.

Though I’m not sure what he has in mind, it can’t be too intense, considering his fears about swapping bodily fluids. “Granted.”

Seeker takes my hand and places it on his side, where I discover that the colors offer a raised texture to his skin, sensuous and velvety. He offers a low sound at the touch, and the pattern deepens to midnight ink, incredibly vivid. I’m not sure what I’m meant to do, so I trace the intricate lines and whorls, feeling little shocks go through him with each movement, as if I’ve got lightning in my fingertips.

“Does it feel good?”