Page 49 of Her Alien Neighbor

“Go!” he shouts, the sound so deep and threatening I can hardly believe it came from his mouth. My body springs into motion, grabbing my shoes off the floor and running out his door and down the hallway.

Tears stream down my face as I pass Mylo, who offers a friendly wave, but then asks, “What is wrong?” as I reach for the front door. I don’t stop to put my shoes on. I just run barefoot through the wet snow until I make it home. Then I collapse on the kitchen floor and cry into the doormat.

CHAPTER 13

VANESSA

Eventually, the tears stop falling, and I pull myself to my feet. I strip off my clothes as I walk toward the bathroom, my bare feet tracking snow and mud through the house. Aunt Franny would kill me if she saw what I was doing. She would probably also kill me for hurting Axil the way I did.

Turning on the shower, I wince at the memory of his face when I told him what we have is casual. He looked so confused, so heartbroken, but how? Why? Did he really assume that because we had sex, that automatically makes me his girlfriend? He can’t be that naive. He’s had sex with several women, I’m sure of it.

Though I can’t deny how incredible the sex is with him. It was also meaningful, given that I was unable to have it with anyone else before him. I’m not sure if we’re extremely compatible in bed, or if there’s more to it.

I do have feelings for him, but it’s not like I’m ready to tell him I love him. That would be insane. We’ve known each other a handful of days. That’s it. Nobody falls in love that fast.

Stepping into the shower, I let the water rinse the tears from my cheeks and the dirt from my feet. As I shampoo my hair, flashes of Axil appear in my mind––of his lips on my neck, of his hands gripping my ass, then I see his heated gaze as he watches me. Every touch, every shuddered breath, he watched me, learning my body based on my reactions. And he kept me focused on him the entire time. He guided me through my trauma in a moment I did not think it possible.

I’ve never had a guy give me so much focused attention. It’s almost overwhelming.

“Ugh,” I mutter aloud as I lather my cheeks with foamy face wash. Maybe I’m a dumbass for reacting the way I did. Really, all Axil wanted to do was come to the reunion with me and protect me from Trevor. Is that so terrible?

But he also refused to listen when I told him I preferred to go with Sam, so I could be there for her. He insisted on bringing a date for Sam, a person she doesn’t know or trust, just so he could be my date. He clearly didn’t care about Sam’s needs, and that’s fine, he doesn’t need to. But I do, and he needs to respect when I say I need to be there for her.

Then he was shocked when I said I wasn’t his girlfriend as if that’s a decision that can be made without my input. I don’t know what the fuck that was, but I found it unsettling. How can he make an assumption like that without asking me how I feel? Did he expect me to drop everything and move here for him? Just because he’s the first guy to stick a finger in my ass, he thinks he owns me now?

I run a bar of soap over my body, fuming at the thought of him trying to boss me around. Does he think I want to be told what to do just because I liked it during sex? That feels like something I shouldn’t have to explain––that during sex, it’s totally different.

Maybe he’s more inexperienced than I thought. Just because he’s had sex with other women doesn’t mean he has a grasp on how to date. Speaking of which, he hasn’t even offered to take me out on a date. There has been no wining and dining. I deserve to be wined and dined.

I step out of the shower, towel off, and leave the bathroom, dirty clothes in hand, without looking in the mirror. I can’t bring myself to do it right now.

Tugging on an oversized T-shirt and comfy cotton panties that are not at all sexy, I climb into bed and bury myself beneath the covers. All the lights are still on, and it’s not even seven p.m. yet, so it’s likely I won’t be able to fall asleep. Then I remember the letter from Aunt Franny that’s still in the kitchen.

I throw off the covers and head toward the kitchen. Tearing open the letter, I stand, frozen in place. I can’t bring myself to unfold the paper.

“Come on,” I whine, my hands starting to shake. “I could really use a mind-bending riddle to solve.” Ultimately, I can’t do it. My hands refuse to cooperate, and I can’t bring myself to read this letter without him.

Axil should be here, I realize. He should be finishing this treasure hunt with me. I want to feel his presence in this house, to feel his warmth as he stands by my side. I want to hear his laughter, all deep and rich, and watch the dimples form in his cheeks while he does.

I can’t believe I didn’t tell him what he means to me. That maybe I do feel what he feels. Because if what he feels is this profound burning hunger to feel his skin on mine, this ache in my chest the moment we say good-bye, and a blinding desire to spend every waking minute breathing in the same air as him, then yes, I do feel what he feels.

Suddenly, I’m grabbing Aunt Franny’s warmest bathrobe, shoving my feet into boots I found in the coat closet that are definitely too big, and stomping toward the back door. The cold night air bites at my bare legs, giving me an incentive to run.

I walk past the front door and around the side of the house. If Axil’s window is still open, or at least unlocked, I can sneak into his room and apologize with my lips wrapped around his cock.

Trying to avoid any sensors that could set off lights or alarms, I take wide, careful steps until I make it to his window. The room is dark, but the window is cracked open about an inch and the shade is up. I can see the outline of his legs on the bed. He’s in there, but possibly asleep.

I consider knocking, but the idea of being able to wake him with my body instead of scaring the shit out of him seems much better to me. I press the buttons on either side of the screen inward, then lift it until it locks at the top. Then I grab the bottom edge of the window and push up slowly. The window is low enough that I can climb inside without having to pull myself up, which is convenient since I couldn’t do a pull-up to save my life.

I don’t get inside gracefully, but I do get in there quietly. And I’m pleased to find Axil still asleep with his back facing me, so there’s no chance he caught me in any of those unflattering, spread-eagle-like poses as I shimmied inside.

Toeing off my boots, I drop the bathrobe to the floor and crawl onto the bed. I notice Axil’s wearing loose sweatpants, but no shirt, so I cautiously lie down behind him and press my lips to the middle of his back. His skin feels dry here, and I make a mental note to give him a back rub with some of my moisturizer. He groans, not fully awake yet, so I place my hand on his arm and let my fingers trail over his shoulder––hmm, dry here too––and up his neck as I continue kissing his back. “Axil,” I whisper. “Axil, wake up.”

He turns, his arms coming around me without ever opening his eyes. “Mmm,” he groans, “my love.”

I bring my hand to his cheek. I can’t see him well in the dark, but I can just make out his most striking features. Letting my fingers explore him, I trace along his sharp cheekbones with feather light touches, over the long, proud slope of his nose, and along the creases in his forehead, before circling the base of his horns.

Wait,what?

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