Page 57 of The Alien in the Archive

I keep rocking against him as I assail him with a barrage of images—his tongue between my legs, me bent over in the reading nook, Thorne reading to me while I suck his cock. I indulge every filthy thought and bring him along for the ride, my pace increasing.

We're both fully clothed, but it feels like sex.

My breath picks up, I rock faster against him. Thorne holds me tight, growling into my ear. “Page…” he rasps.

“I'm coming,” I tell him. “Oh God, I?—”

His release seems to follow mine, triggered by his psychic connection to me, and it's like I feel his orgasm as I come. His long fingers are tangled in my hair, his other hand on my ass.

I know we've made a mess of ourselves, but I don't care. That was the best orgasm I've ever had…and we were both fully dressed.

But he wanted it slow…and he holds to that as he pulls away and plants a lazy, sloppy kiss to my lips. I let the kiss linger, our tongues dancing together until we pull apart again.

“I want to stay the night,” I whisper, looking into his eyes. “But you're not going to let me, are you?”

He smirks. “It would raise too much suspicion…” He rocks his hips, squeezes my ass. “And I wouldn't be able to stop myself from fucking you.”

I feel like I'm going to melt into a puddle. “But?—”

He holds my face in his hands. “Go, Page,” he says. “Rest. We'll be together again soon, but…give it a day, please. To make sure you’re sure.”

“I promise?—”

“Page,” he interrupts, chastising me again. “Give it time. I’m not going to die tomorrow.”

I stand, feeling lightheaded. Thorne hasn’t let go of my hand. He keeps his grip on me as we walk back through thealcove to the bookcase. Then, when I turn around outside, he leans down and kisses me.

“Sweet dreams, Page,” he murmurs.

I give him a devious smile.

Oh…they will be.

21

THORNE

Iwake in a different world than I lived in yesterday.

Notreally, not in any tangible way. This is the same shadowy space, the same old and uncomfortable couch, the same tattered blanket and old, cold body.

But at the fringes of my mind, and lingering in the air…Page.

The faint psychic imprint of her presence lingers on the edges of my awareness, warm and insistent, like sunlight through a crack in the shutters. She’s not even in the Obscuary right now—no, I would know if she were—but it doesn’t matter. She’s still here, imprinted on my skin, tangled up in my sheets, in my thoughts.

Last night was a mistake. A beautiful, maddening mistake.

I scrub a hand over my face and groan.

Ashlan chirps from the foot of my makeshift bed, antennae glowing a questioning silver. He watches me with a look that can only be described as judgmental.

“What?” I mutter, voice rough. “Here to pile on the condemnation?”

The lumivix blinks slowly, unimpressed, before hoppingdown and trotting off through the curtain. I roll out of bed, shivering slightly. I thought I’d gotten used to the cold after all these years—I’ve grown cooler and cooler since the last time I drank Elixir—but Page has brought warmth back into my life in a way that makes things colder without her. My alcove feels smaller than usual, its shadowy corners claustrophobic in the wake of last night.

I can still see her perched on the desk, cheeks flushed, lips red and kiss-bruised. Gods…that one indulgence did nothing to sate my desire.

I pull on a shirt, the fabric soft and threadbare. It does nothing to help with the cold. Nothing does. My body is a live wire, sparking with residual energy from our shared climax last night. Her scent lingers in my lungs, sharp and intoxicating, and I have to force myself to focus on something—anything—else.

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