Page 27 of Kissed By the Alien
“You asked for proof.”
“Maybe this is a cultural difference or a translation issue. Should we switch to Common?”
“English is fine. You requested proof. I wish to show you my mating cock is hard, because of you.”
Lutan seems genuine. I force a smile. “I believe you, okay?”
With a dip of his head, he refastens his pants. I breathe a slight sigh, wondering how this misunderstanding snowballed so fast. I guess all that flirting gave him the wrong impression.
“I like you, Lutan, but that doesn’t mean I’m easy. I was having a really nice time with you tonight. Until you left me in the ballroom. Why did you leave? What did I do wrong?”
“It wasn’t you. It was me.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ve heard that one before.” I grab a blanket from the sofa to throw over my shoulders as I’m feeling rather exposed right now.
“Dancing is intimate, Lexi. Did you expect me to continue moving with you without touching you?”
“Touching’s allowed.” I bite my tongue.Cultural differences, I remind myself. I’ve been to Japan and Germany and a few other places. Enough to know what I consider an innocent action, like wearing shoes indoors, can be seen as disrespectful or even insulting to another.
“Sometouching is allowed,” I amend. “There are limits. Want to test my limits?” I bounce my eyebrows, damn it! Considering he was about to remove his pants, I should restrain myself but flirting with him is too much fun.
“It’s not wise to tempt me. Not now.”
I hear the strain of his voice, which I don’t understand. He’s been fine up to now. “What’s going on with you, Lutan?”
“I would not want to hurt you.”
“I’ll try not to tempt you, okay?”
He lifts his chin. “I don’t believe you, female. It’s in your nature.”
“Not really. Well, not with others. Only you.” My smile emerges again, because, well, being with Lutan is easy. Even this conversation one I’d never have with another, flows effortlessly. I’m usually reserved, guarded, because that’s how a person stays alive.
“See, you already tempt me. With that smile.”
“I can smile without it meaning anything. Like dancing. Innocent fun.”
“That dance was not innocent. It held meaning. Purpose.”
“I didn’t dance with you because I wanted the gun.”
“But it was the reason you attended the ball with me.”
“At first.” I draw a deep breath. “It’s not why I got so dressed up. I don’t dress like this normally.”
His fingers slide beneath the throw I wrapped over my shoulders and follow the thin strap around my neck. “I love how you dressed for me, but this conversation is not appropriate.”
“Is that all you care about? When something’s appropriate?”
“Protocols are important.”
“So is being open to new ideas. Like dancing.”
“I danced. And I was right. Being so close to you wasn’t appropriate.”
“We managed just fine. There’s nothing between us. You say I’m this sholani or whatever, but your actions don’t mesh.”
I shuck the afghan and twirl in the dress. The bottom flares out. Even in my boots, I’m graceful. I’ve always been a dancer at heart, dancing in my room for hours as I’d play songs in my head, but grace doesn’t hide how heavy I am.
