Page 39 of The Alien's Little Sister

Oh, way to go, Matthew. That’s how you protect your heart?

You are so screwed.

CHAPTER 16

Work goes smoothly. Word of mouth has spread about how cool Inara’s room is(her,really), and business is hopping.

All night long, I smile at people and watch Stacy’s eyes turning into dollar signs like she’s Scrooge McDuck as she amasses a stack of credit card receipts.

My eyes should probably be turning into dollar signs too. But in actuality, I’m thinking of Inara. Naked Inara. And the hours cannot go by fast enough.

I don’t want to assume that Inara wants sex when we get back to my place. But still, it’s all I can think about. That, and her scent. It’s driving me crazy. I’m hyperaware of her smell on me, on my clothes—and being that I spent some time in her bag as I helped her steal my coffee mug this morning, I know for a fact she travels light in the cosmetics department. She didn’t bring any makeup and her soap is not exactly shampoo (plus, it smells like exactlynothing)and I saw no bottles of perfume.

So how can she smell this good? It’s strong, clinging to me today; even Stacy noticed it.

(Yeah, she gave me wide eyes that encouraged me to give her permission to ask about it. I did not give her permission. When she point-blank asked if Inara and I hooked up, I just stared at her until she received the message that her line of questioning needed to shut down.)

So I’m alone in my thoughts and surrounded by Inara’s scent on me and it’s driving me batshit. But I keep it together. When it’s finally, frickin’finallytime to clock out, I take one look at her, and I’m ready to leap on her. If I’m reading her right, she feels the same way about me. I’m so fucking excited to get home alone with her it’s not even funny.

We walk Stacy to her car, endure Stacy’s knowing smirk and bright white smile of glee and then I walk Inara to her side of the Boss, open her door for her, and she asks, “Are we going to have sex soon?”

I pull my groan up from the bottoms of my toes. “Please, God, yes.”

We get through the door of my apartment in time to attack each other like starving animals.

And that’s pretty much how the next week goes.

But every morning before work, we cram absolutely every opportunity to sightsee and spend time together. When we’re not sightseeing, we have a lot of great sex. But we do a lot ofnormalstuff too. I take her to a high school basketball game. Sal is point guard for the team, and we go to show support. We cheer like psychos, and Inara is hilariously bloodthirsty in the second half, when home team is up by two points and the clock is ticking down on the scoreboard.

“Ease up, woman! They’re hoops players, not gladiators.” I chuckle and wrap my arm around her shoulders.

“Does this mean they won’t be eating the organs of their vanquished opponents?” Inara asks, looking a little disappointed.

I do a full-out double take. “Come again?”

She looks at me sharply. “You want me to come? Here?” She looks around cagily and her eyes darken as she leans closer and whispers, “Now?”

That’s how we spend our fifteen minutes of halftime. We hunt for a washroom far away from the normal foot traffic, lock the door, and bang out a quickie.

We race back in time to catch the end of the game. Sal’s team wins, Inara makes a shrill scream of excitement that causes our section of the bleachers to freeze and go dead silent, and I still don’t know the story on her gladiator brothers’ habits of eating their downed opponents, but Inara leaves a little bummed that there’s no organ-munching.

I take Inara to the lake. She loves the water just as much as any human and she swims like a crocodile, which is both awesome and a little frightening to see.

We do every tourist thing imaginable, and it’s the worst idea I’ve ever had.

The more I spend time with Inara, the more I grow to like her. And I alreadylikedher.

But she can’t stay.

Inara can’t be mine.

***

I check my watch, then tug my sleeve back into place, calling, “Yo, babe. Still want to go to the Planetarium?”

Inara makes a humming noise in the frunchroom, and when I walk out to meet her, she unfolds from the couch and stretches, drawing my eye and changing the direction of my thoughts.

She approaches me lazily, her luscious hips swaying. Sliding her arms around my shoulders and locking her wrists behind my head, she brings her mouth close to mine. “Why don’t we stay home?”

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