Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
“Pity sex—” I begin, frowning.
“Not pity sex,” she corrects. “And for the record, I’ve had sex with men for less than what I felt for you, which was bone-deep gratitude. Happiness and gratitude are perfectly good reasons to have voluntary sex. And let me say again. It was very, very voluntary.” And she presses a kiss to my knuckles, then smiles up at me. “And if—when—we have sex again, it will be voluntary then, too.”
Heat creeps up my neck, and my tail won’t stop flicking about. “You didn’t come,” I point out, keeping my voice low. “Back then.”
“I know.” She shrugs. “I was just happy to touch and be touched. For me it wasn’t about an orgasm. But if it’ll make you feel better, I promise that I won’t rest until you make me come this time.”
And Melody flutters her lashes at me.
“So…you want sex again? From me?” Maybe this is a fetish. If so, that explains a lot.
“At some point, yeah.” She shrugs and then gives my knuckles another kiss, glancing up at me as she does. “But I’d like to get to know you outside of bed, too. I want us to be friends. More than friends. Is it so weird that I’m attracted to you?”
“Yes,” I admit bluntly.
She laughs, takes my hand, and puts it to her waist. Then she moves in closer. “For me, it’s about who you are inside. These big hands of yours are sexy, but what makes them sexy is that you’re so very gentle with me. You’ve shown me that you have a kind heart, and that even with all this strength, you’re careful with those that are smaller than you. I find that incredibly, irresistibly attractive. You may not have thought about me in the last five years, but I’ve thought about you. A lot.”
Melody steps close, putting her hand on my back, and then whispers, “Especially when I was touching myself.”
The heat on my neck climbs all the way up to my brow.
CHAPTER
SIX
MELODY
Brux sweats through dinner. It’s adorable. My forwardness has clearly flustered him, but I don’t regret it. He clearly doesn’t think much of himself or of his appearance, and if it takes me being blatant to show him that I’m sincere, then I’ll be utterly brazen.
I’m not going to let him walk out of my life again. Not when the universe has dropped him into my lap. This is a sign, and I’m going to grab it.
So we walk, hand in hand, into the greasy cantina that’s the only place on Risda to dine out. Since I don’t have a home of my own, I’m rather sick of the food here, but I can choke it down one more time as long as the company is good. Brux takes one look at the only open table left for us, and he seems utterly appalled at how dirty the countertop is. He releases me, and with a napkin, wipes the entire booth down, along with the seats, and growls that I deserve better than to sit in someone else’s mess.
And he wonders how I can be attracted to him? He should be wondering how he’s going to fight me off at this rate.
I sit down and he goes to get our food from the bar, along with a couple of brews. When he returns, I beam at him, my heart light and full of joy. “Tell me what you’ve been up to these last few years,” I say. “Or what brings you to Risda. Whatever you want to talk about.”
He takes a sip of his brew and shrugs his big, broad shoulders. “Work.”
“What kind of work? Construction, right? Have you worked for the same company long?” I poke at the fried foods in front of me, not really hungry as much as craving to hear more from Brux. I want to know all the details of his life.
The look he gives me is funny. “I work for whatever crew will hire me.”
“I would think with your strength that you’d be in high demand.” I eat a fried tuber and lick my fingertips clean.
Brux gives his head a quick shake. “I’m not a desirable employee.”
“Why not?”
His eyes narrow at me, as if he can’t quite believe that I don’t know these obvious things. “My family name is worthless. I have a prison record. I’m clearly not entirely mesakkah.”
“What did you go to prison for?”
“Robbery. When I was young, I lived in the slums on Homeworld’s moon.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t a good time.”
I want to frown, because isn’t that always the story? The poor stay poor because they can’t break free from the cycle. I should have guessed that sort of thing would happen even in an alien society, but it sucks to think that some shitty things are universal. “How long were you in prison?”