Page 2 of Whisked Away By the Alien

“Lick of what?” he asks.

“Nothing! I was thinking about… candy. Yes, candy! That’s it.”

“Candy?”

“I have a sweet-tooth.” And I’d love to lick this delicious piece of candy standing before me, from head to toe, leaving no part untouched. This time, I keep my steamier thoughts to myself, though my cheeks flush.

I can’t stop staring. He’s the most gorgeous male I’ve ever seen. Muscles cover every inch of him, straining against his thin black t-shirt. Did I mention this blue piece of candy has tribal tattoos across his biceps? I wonder where else he’s tattooed.

Damn, no question about it. I’m horny. It’s bad enough I’ve never had a serious relationship, but I’m not even in the privacy of my apartment to, um, take care ofbusiness. Worse! I’m standing in myparents’kitchen fantasizing about a guy I know nothing about. Analien.

“Oy.”

“Oy?” he repeats.

“That’s Yiddish for OMG.”

“OMG? Female, you’re not making any sense.”

“You’re an alien.”So witty and observant, Golda!He must think I’m an idiot.

My eyes fixate on that handsome face with the brows that pinch slightly as he assesses me. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me.

Grace? Nope. I face planted right in front of him.

Wit? That’s a definite no. I can’t string more than four words together without embarrassing myself.

Friendly? Hardly. I haven’t introduced myself or even said hello. I only commented on the obvious. That he’s an alien.

Maybe I’ll get points for being observant.

“From my perspective,” Mr. Tall, Blue, and Very Handsome begins, “You’re the alien. Though I can see your point. I’m a guest on your world.” Now both sides of his mouth kick up. Is he flirting with me?

God, I hope so.

“I’m guessing you’re lost. This is my family’s kitchen, not the Department of Alien Affairs. Their office is in mid-town somewhere.” My voice wavers, and not because he’s drop-dead handsome. Okay, maybe that’s why. I’m wearing a baggy old sweatshirt and jeans, my hair is in a messy ponytail, and I skipped putting on makeup this morning. Yay me for thinking I’d never meet anyone today since I was only going home to my parents!

“Are you not Mrs. Gertie-She’s-A-Lovely-Though-Somewhat-Crazy-Woman Birnbaum?”

I laugh, mostly because he has my mom pegged perfectly. I don’t think he knows that’s not her name, though. He’s looking at me with pursed silver eyes, waiting for an answer.

God help me, I have a hot-as-fuck alien in my kitchen, unwittingly insulting my mother, and I can’t stop laughing. He tilts his head, his gaze fixed on my face.

He probably thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am, because right now, I’m thinking of letting him stay instead of kicking him out. This is post-occupation Earth; the only aliens here are the ones the DAA gave permission to be here.

“I’m not Mrs. Gertie-She’s-A-Lovely-Though-Somewhat-Crazy-Woman Birnbaum. That’s my mother.” I’m Horny-As-Fuck-Golda-Whose-Making-An-Ass-of-Herself -By-Gawking-At-The-HAF-Alien Birnbaum. But I don’t say that. In fact, I suck in my cheeks to keep from saying it because I’m so damn tempted. He really is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.

When he dips his head slightly, acknowledging me, a lock of thick, dark hair falls forward. Forget running off at the mouth. My impulsive nature finds another outlet as my fingers brush back his hair. I accidentally strike some bumps on his head near his horn. I’d love to run my fingers over his horn, but I’ve already invaded his space. Ha! I invaded an alien’s space… nice change of pace around here!

His horns, tall, majestic, and as dark as his hair, slowly rise, making me think of another part of him rising… something I shouldn’t be thinking about. I step back, hoping I haven’t offended him.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you. Habit, I suppose.” WTF am I saying? Who has a habit of brushing someone’s hair back? “I mean, your hair was in your eyes.”

“Not a problem, Daughter of Mrs. Gertie-She’s-A-Lovely-Though-Somewhat-Crazy-Woman Birnbaum.”

“Oh, my name! It’s Golda. But my sister calls me Goldie, or Goldilox because I love lox and bagels, and my roommates called me GR sometimes.” Please, someone shoot me or staple my mouth shut!

Mr. HAF grins, just enough to make me bounce on my boot heels. I am so going to get drunk when I get home today because if I don’t, I’ll be replaying every stupid thing I’ve done since meeting this guy and I don’t think I can handle those memories.

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