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What is going on with me?

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. Tomorrow is a new day. You should be able to reach out to your sister.”

“And Brian. I’m sure he’s worried.” The last words he heard from me basically said goodbye.

Alaska growls again, causing goosebumps to take over my entire body. “Who the fuck is Brian?” The blood-rimmed irises glow again, and I have to blink with a slight shake of my head to make sure I’m seeing what I think I am.

Those can’t be contacts. It’s impossible.

“Brian. The air traffic controller,” I state in a simple yet obvious tone.

Who doesn’t know Brian?

“He was the last person I spoke to before I crashed. He has my final goodbyes to tell my sister. He’s probably just as worried as she is.”

His fists open and close by his sides, his veins swimming up his arms, protruding with every flex.

“Is he…” he snarls again. “Is he your boyfriend or something?” I think I like it.

My brows rise to my hairline. Is Alaska jealous?

“Uh, no. I’m not gay.” I fumble my next words with how that sounded like it was an insult of something, but it’s not. I’m just as confused as Alaska is because apparently, I am not as straight as I thought I was. “I don’t have an issue with it,” I stammer. “Love is love, you know? I’ve never been attracted to another guy. Brian is just a friend.”

Alaska glares at me. His face softens and then seems horrified; his eyes widen as he takes a few steps back. “Sorry. I—uh—I’m tired. I need to go to bed. Take my room. I’m taking the couch. We will make sure you get to call your sister and Brian tomorrow.”

“Do you not like Brian?” I follow Alaska inside, my gaze falling onto his wide back, the muscles rippling with every step.

“I don’t know Brian enough to like him or dislike him.”

I choose to poke the bear. “He’s a good guy.” My eyes fall to his ass, the sweatpants tight over his firm, round cheeks.

I want nothing more than to press him against the nearest flat surface, curl over his body so I can feel his backside press against me.

Alaska opens the door for me, allowing me to step inside the dark house first. The only light on is the one above the kitchen sink that leaves a faint glow in the living room.

“Noted,” Alaska clips, his jaw twitching. “Goodnight, Helios.” He closes and locks the door behind me.

I spin around to tell him the same when I run right into him. I didn’t expect him to be right behind me. His arm slips around my waist to keep me from falling again, and he pulls me against his rock-solid body.

“Sorry about that,” he whispers, that same hand sliding slowly up my back as if he is counting the individual vertebrae.

Slow. Sensual. Curious.

“It’s okay,” I manage to say through broken, unsteady breaths.

He closes his eyes, one hand tightening on my hip while the other grabs the back of my neck, and a growl huffs from him with every puff of air.

As if he comes to his senses, he releases his hold on me and slams his back against the door.

I clear my throat. “Goodnight, Alaska.”

“Night.”

I spin around and try to get my legs to run down the hall to the bedroom, to get away from the man who is testing me in ways I never imagined, but my legs are wobbly. Every step is as if I’m walking against a rubber band wrapped around us, waiting to pull me back.

Tomorrow I’ll be gone, and I’ll never have to think about him again.

Liar.