Page 6 of Her Alien Soldier
“Maggie,” he rumbled. “I will call you what you wish.” He seemed like he was about to say something else when he clamped his mouth shut and finally broke eye contact to look around the bar again. It left her feeling shaky, unsettled. Warm. No, not warm. Hot. She knew her cheeks were flushed, and that wasn’t the only part. Her stomach was molten, and she felt hotenough between her thighs that she was surprised no one could tell.
Wet. She was wet, she realized with shock as she turned away to pour more drinks.
She couldn’t even remember the last time that happened.
She made herself focus on work, mixing and pouring, restocking ingredients, keeping the bar clean and the glasses sanitized and stocked. She watched the performers that were currently set up on the stage, a jazz quartet from Earth that was actually pretty amazing.
She shook her head, gave herself a stern talking to about getting her hormones under control, then started working again, staying as much as she could on the opposite side of the bar from where Xarek was sitting.
Was she a coward? Yes. Was this the smartest way to handle it? Definitely. When she was near him, she felt like she was out of control. Which wasn’t a bad feeling. It could be fun! But she got the feeling that there would be nothing easy or uncomplicated about Xarek and the way he made her feel, and she’d spent the last decade-plus of her life making it as easy, uncomplicated, and happy as possible. She’d lost all of those things, once, and damned if she’d lose them again, even if he was big and cranky and gorgeous and made her want to lick every inch of him while he rumbled for her.
Down, girl.
She blew out a breath and shook her head, focusing on her work as she filled an order of several complicated mixed drinks. Luckily, that took all of her attention for a few minutes and let her get her body back under control.
By the time she finished, she felt almost normal again. She could do this. She just had to stay busy.
Xarek watched Maggie as she bustled back and forth behind the bar. He could admit now that he was watching her. And she was enjoyable to watch. Those perfect curves, the way her skin flushed pink sometimes when she looked at him. Those greenish-blue eyes locked with his so obediently.
And it was obedience. She never looked away unless he let her. He’d noticed it once by accident, and then tried with her a few more times. And it worked, every time.
He tore his gaze away from her. There were few, if any, females of his kind like that. Giving, eager to please. Soft and sweet. War had taken that out of them.
But even if there were hundreds back home like that, this one called to him. Maggie.
And he had no time for this distraction. And he was making her nervous and on edge, which was not acceptable. He stood, and in doing so got her attention again.
“Did you need another ale?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. I am going to take your advice and go back to my ship for a bit to rest. I trust you. You know how important the Paraxian is.”
She nodded. “I’ll contact you the moment I see him, if he shows,” she promised, and he knew she meant it. He held up his communicator, and she dug hers out of her pocket, holding it up as well. In an instant, she had his contact information and he had hers.
“Thank you, Maggie,” he said, unable to stop himself from capturing her gaze again. And there was that lovely flush, the dilation of her pupils against that stunning blue-green.
“You’re welcome,” she said softly, and it nearly undid every bit of his discipline. He gave her what he knew was a terse nod, then strode out of the bar, determined to put some distancebetween himself and the tempting little human. He trusted her. She would contact him. And he needed to regain his focus.
He had no time for this. Watching this woman, craving her touch, wanting to see what would happen if he stripped her bare and showed her what true obedience meant.
He had the feeling she’d enjoy it. And so would he.
He snarled to himself as he made his way to the hangar bay where his ship was docked.
He could not afford distraction now. And that was what Maggie was. Gorgeous, sweet, bright, warm, curvy, delicious-smelling distraction. He was at war. His squadron depended on him for their lives. And his people depended on their squadron.
If he thought a quick rut would ease him, he would have dragged her back to his ship with him. She would have come, work or no.
But he knew already that it wouldn’t be enough. And that was too much to risk. The last time he’d let himself feel anything of any depth for someone was a very, very long time ago. And she’d spat that he was boring, too serious, too much of a soldier to ever be an actual lover.
She’d been right. He’d tarnished her brightness, for a time, and he would not do the same to Maggie. No matter how much he craved her closeness.
No matter how much his cock ached with the need to be sunk deep inside her curvy little body.
He shook his head and barely suppressed another snarl as he boarded his ship, closing the door behind him with a deep breath.
He needed sleep. And to clean himself.
And if he ended up taking things in hand and relieving himself at some point in there like a hormonal adolescent, so be it.
