by Cara Bristol
“Because you’re rarely home?”
“And because I don’t know how. Can you cook?”
I nodded. “All Dakonians can cook.” Unless you preferred your food raw, cooking equated to survival.
She tilted her head. “What’s your specialty?”
“Roasted kel. Phea stuffed with macha and nuts.” I got an idea. “I can cook for you sometime.” It would be another way to show her what a good provider I could be.
She grinned. “I would like that. Kel or phea?”
“Might have to substitute beef or chicken.” I smiled. I would relish the challenge of using Earth ingredients.
She set the box on the counter. “I do have the essentials—coffee and wine. Would you prefer red or white?”
“Surprise me.”
She poured two glasses of white wine, and then we moved into the room with the large sofa. She sat and patted the seat beside her. She took a sip from her glass; I took a sip from mine.
“How’s your wine? Not too dry?” she asked.
How could a glass of liquid be dry? “No, it’s very wet,” I said.
She giggled. “When you’re referring to wine, dry means not sweet. This is a Sauvignon Blanc.”
“Oh. No, it’s not too dry. I like it.” I was used to drinking fermented macha, which most Terrans considered too bitter to be palatable. “Is there such a thing as sweet wines?” I asked.
“Yes, but I don’t generally care for them. Pinot Grigio is about as sweet as I like.”
“And how do you say sweet when you’re referring to wine?”
“Sweet.”
“Your language is very tricky,” I said.
“It can be.” She smiled, and I was entranced by the plump curve of her lips and the sparkle in her eyes.
I leaned close until our breaths mingled. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and I brushed my mouth to hers, touching her bottom lip with my tongue. I pulled away, and she opened her eyes. “You taste…dry…and sweet,” I murmured.
Amusement glinted in her eyes, and I moved in for another kiss. This brushing of our lips, exploration with our tongues was intimate and stirring. While their technologies and equipment were incredible, the kiss was the Terrans’ best invention by far.
Holding my glass in one hand, I cupped her nape with my other. Her hair was soft against my skin, and I combed my fingers through the strands. Her breath caressed my face, and her taste enflamed my senses, her audible hitch of desire shooting straight to my horns and loins in a zing of heat.
She gripped her wine and rested her bandaged hand on my shoulder.
Her lips clung to mine, and then she murmured against my mouth, “I think we’re operating under a handicap.”
“Handicap?”
She clinked her goblet against mine. “Maybe we should set these down.”
“Good idea.” It was a wonder I hadn’t dumped the contents down her back; I’d forgotten I still held the glass.
She set our glasses on a tray atop the ottoman, next to her phone. Then she snuggled against my chest, her good arm around my neck.
“Perfect.” I shifted, pulling her onto my lap and kissing her. Both hands free, I caressed her, smoothing my palms over her shoulders, around to her front to fondle her breasts then over her hip to squeeze a rounded buttock.
Wine was fine, but oh, this was better.
With her good hand, she stroked my hair and then rubbed her thumb over a horn. It swelled and pulsed, sending spirals of sensation clear down to my erect manhood. She wiggled, and my cock throbbed against her bottom. Teasingly, she wiggled again.
I kissed her hard, applying pressure, sweeping my tongue inside. I covered a breast and teased the nipple to hardness. I pressed hot kisses to her throat. She arched her neck, and the cascade of her hair dusted my arms. I tangled my hands in the silken strands, the color like grain but so much softer.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Your phone is making noise,” I murmured.
“Just a text. Ignore it. It will stop,” she murmured as she nibbled on my neck. Her lips felt like velvet.
I cupped her chin and took possession of her mouth, kissing her with a thoroughness that left us breathless. I slipped my hand under her shirt. The hard bead of her nipple poked through the satiny cup of her bra. My fellow Dakonians had warned me about the contraption. Don’t even try to get it off. Let her do it…
I tugged the bra up over her breasts and then palmed warm flesh. My cock ached with need, her bottom sitting on it, making it worse—and better. Shifting for easier reach, I bent my head and drew the hard bud into my mouth. She sucked in a breath and moaned, arching her back. I flicked my tongue over the tip.
“Hit the road, Jack, and don’t you come back no more, no more, no more…” We jerked as her phone began play.
“Sixth sense,” she muttered and glowered at the device. “It figures.”
“What figures?” I asked.
“Nothing. It will go to voicemail.”
“Shouldn’t you answer it?” I hoped she wouldn’t.
“Nah. It’s nobody important.”
“Hit the road Jack—” The phone shut off.
Moxie smiled, a grin of seduction and promise, and straddled me. She pulled her shirt over her head, and unhooked her bra, flinging it away. “Now, where were we?” She tugged at my tunic, and I obliged her by removing it. We embraced gingerly but kissed with fervor. Bandages covered my knife wounds, and I considered ripping them off so I could feel her, flesh to flesh, but the doctors and nurses at the healing facility had cautioned against it.
“You’re so soft. You feel incredible.” I stroked her back, exploring her shoulders, the length and trough of her spine, before slipping a hand between our bodies to fondle a breast unencumbered by clothing.
“You feel good, too.” She sought my gaze then glanced downward at my bandaged torso. “But I forgot about your wounds. I don’t want to hurt you or cause you to start bleeding. Maybe we should wait.”
“No.” I didn’t care if I started bleeding. It would be worth it. “I’m fine. It was just a scratch.”
“It required stitches!”
“We’ll be careful. How’s that?” I rubbed my mouth against hers, tasting her, inhaling her scent.
She caught my bottom lip gently between her teeth. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
She sighed and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Maybe—” Kiss. “We should—” Nip. “Take this—” Kiss. “Into the other room,” she said.
My cock pulsed with a furious desire. I couldn’t wait to be fully unclothed, hold her naked body, join with her, and bring her to the peak of pleasure. Then she would be mine, and afterward I would ask her to be my mate.
“Good idea,” I said, but her lips distracted me. I held her, one hand behind her head, the other against her back, and pulled her against me. Perfect. I ignored the twinge in my stitches. I wouldn’t allow anything to ruin this moment. Not my wounds, not anything.
“Hit the road Jack and don’t you come back...”
She jerked. “Son of a bitch! Let me turn the damn thing off. I should have done that to start with.” She twisted on my lap and leaned toward the ottoman to grab the phone. It slipped out of her hand and hit the floor. “Crap! I can’t reach it.”
“Hit the road Jack, and don’t you come back…”
“Let me,” I said.
“Hit the red button to shut it off.”
Holding her tight so I wouldn’t dump her off my lap, I leaned over. I aimed for the red button but hit the speakerphone button beside it.
“Moxie? What the fuck? I’ve been trying to reach you!” a man’s irritated voice boomed through the device.
She went rigid in my arms. “Miles, this is not a good time. I’ll have to call you back.”
I jerked. Miles? The man calling was her ex-mate. The tribal chief where she worked. I bit back a growl. If only I hadn’t hit the wrong button on the phone.
“No, it’s
not a good time. There was a break-in at the office. They trashed the place. The cops are here. I need you to come in.”
Chapter Nine
Moxie
I hooked my bra and donned my shirt. “I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t have to go, but I do. This is important.” Damn that Miles! I knew he didn’t throw a wrench into my love life deliberately—the break-in was pure bad luck—but, damn him!
Sixx pulled on his shirt. “I’m going with you.”
I shook my head. “You can’t. Unauthorized visitors aren’t allowed in the facility.”
He crossed his arms. “It sounds like unauthorized visitors have already gained access. What’s one more?”
“Miles would never allow it.”
“If you go, I go.” He pressed his lips together.
I planted my hands on my hips. “Excuse me?” I didn’t need another controlling man dictating what I could and couldn’t do. Miles was bad enough.
“It’s not safe for you,” he said.
“It’s perfectly safe.”
He arched an eyebrow. “In a matter of days, you were attacked, and the place where you work was vandalized and robbed. That’s what you call safe?”
I dropped my arms as guilt skittered through me. He’d gotten knifed trying to protect me. But the mugging was a freak occurrence unlikely to reoccur. “It looks bad, but what happened this week is very unusual.”
“I’d hate to see the usual, then.”
“You heard Miles—the police are there. The office is the safest place on Earth right now.”
“I want to meet your ex-mate.”
“Why?”
“So he will understand you’re taken. That you’re mine.” He planted his feet shoulder width apart and glowered.
Holy crap, if macho didn’t look cute on him. This hot, horned, uber-masculine, tough alien was prepared to fight for his woman. The possessiveness should have pissed me off, yet a secret, warm thrill sizzled through me. I’d never had such a fierce champion. Past relationships barely moved the fuzz-o-meter to lukewarm. I could visualize Sixx as my superhero, running interference, mowing down obstacles so I could achieve my goals. Sixx had my six.
However, I suspected uncertainty lay beneath his stubbornness. He worried Miles might steal me away. Never happen. Miles was an irritating gnat, not even worth a swat. Sixx should have no fears. The biggest issue looming was who would leave and who would stay—a problem with no easy solution. Sixx would have to sacrifice for this relationship to work. The least I could do was eliminate his qualms about Miles. If he saw firsthand how adversarial our interactions were, he’d know he had nothing to worry about.
Miles would pitch a fit if I ushered in an unauthorized, unannounced visitor, but fuck him. He’d screwed up my evening, so this was the price he’d have to pay.
“Okay, you can come with me,” I said.
* * * *
Flashing yellow, blue, and red squad cars lit up the night like a carnival. In addition to three police cruisers, I spotted Miles’ Corvette, a couple of staff vehicles, and a few unfamiliar cars. A dirty athletic shoe had been wedged under the door to prop it open. So much for keeping people out.
A hum of voices drifted into the parking lot. With Sixx following, I led the way down the hall to cube central. I stopped short and gasped. Miles’ call hadn’t prepared me for the destruction. Computer screens had been shattered, workspace panels knocked down, desks and chairs overturned, and papers had been flung everywhere. The windows to Miles’ glassed-in office had been broken.
I covered my mouth in horror.
Cops milled about photographing the damage, measuring, taking notes. One in plainclothes dusted for prints on the office vault. The safe appeared to be the only intact object. Everything else was in chaos. To my surprise, Jordan accompanied a uniform who moved around the perimeter. Out of the fray in the corner, Miles conferred with a guy who had detective written all over his cheap suit. They spotted me, broke off their conservation, and approached.
“Oh my god, Miles, I can’t believe it. This is awful,” I said. He was an asshole, but we shared an ambition: a dream, a desire to create, to build something from nothing. EGG was the culmination of everything he’d worked for. I empathized with his loss, the violation.
“Who’s he? What’s he doing here?” Miles snapped and scowled.
“This is Sixx. He’s with me. He’s my date.”
“We’re mates,” Sixx said.
The detective arched his eyebrows, and Miles made a face like he’d swallowed something nasty. “Nobody but staff is allowed inside.”
He was being his usual asshole self, causing sympathy to fizzle. If I’d wanted to be snarky, I would have pointed out the open door invited any and every lookie-loo and or vagrant to waltz right in. But the detective seemed to be sizing me up, and I figured I should make a good impression.
“You called me on a Saturday night—Sunday morning now—and interrupted my date. I dropped everything and rushed over.”
“Took you long enough,” he said.
Flashing his badge, the suit intervened. “Thank you for coming. I’m Detective Orman.”
Shaking my head, I scanned the room, taking in the damage. “How did this happen? How could they get in?” Entry required a thumbprint and a PIN.
“That’s what I’m going to find out.” Miles jutted his chin at a young guy in ripped jeans, a white T-shirt, and a backward ball cap, tapping away at a laptop in the break room—or what used to be the break room. The glass enclosing the space lay in shards on the floor. All “rooms” of the business, except for the toilets, were glassed in, the lack of privacy adding another layer of security. Espionage was an ever-present worry for Miles who feared someone would steal his game secrets. I’d always thought he was paranoid, but maybe he wasn’t. “I called in a private forensics security expert to figure out how they gained access—hardware, software…” He raked a hand through his hair.
“You mean like the devices crooks put on ATM machines to get PIN numbers?” I said.
“Yeah. He’s also scanning our systems to determine if anything was copied, erased, or corrupted.”
“I doubt they could get much,” I said. “Critical data is kept on external storage drives and locked up at night.”
“That’s why we’re dusting the safe for prints. I doubt we’ll pick up anything though. Looks like they wore gloves. Other than staff, we’re not picking up prints on anything,” the detective said.
“The safe was the one thing they couldn’t crack,” Miles said. “When the alarm company called, I rushed over. The first thing I did was open the vault. Everything inside was still intact, undisturbed.”
“You opened the safe? You didn’t tell me that,” Orman said.
“You didn’t ask. Of course I opened the safe. My life and livelihood are in there.”
The detective looked annoyed. “You disturbed evidence and the crime scene. If there was a print on the control pad—it’s gone now.”
“How many people have the codes?” Sixx asked.
“What business is it of yours?” Miles snapped.
“Don’t talk to him that way!” I wanted to rip his head off. He was understandably stressed, worried, and tense, but that was no reason to take it out on Sixx, who’d asked an obvious, honest question.
“How many people do have access to the safe?” Orman asked. See?
“One,” Miles huffed, shooting Sixx the evil eye. “Just me.”
Of all his employees, he probably trusted me the most—except with the combination. He didn’t share that with anyone. If he arrived late, no one could begin work until he got here. Each evening, under the watchful camera eye, we downloaded the day’s programming to storage drives and locked them up. In the morning, Miles reopened Fort Knox, and we uploaded our data. Rinse and repeat.
You’d think EGG designed missile guidance systems instead of video games. Sure, gaming was a billion-dollar industry in which piracy and counterfeiting ran rampant, but
it wasn’t like the world would blow up if the Chinese or the Nigerians got their hands on a game.
Having completed his circuit of the room, Jordan broke away from the cop and ambled over. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey, yourself,” I replied. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He shifted his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I heard the call on my police scanner. Listening to the scanner is a hobby. When they stated the address, I called Miles and hauled ass over here.”
“The alarm company had already notified me, but I appreciated Jordan’s assistance. He has been helping identify missing items.” The accusing look Miles shot me insinuated I was lacking in the concern department.
Well, excuse me for not having a police scanner and for trying to have a life.
Miles considered Jordan a protégé. In the younger man, he saw himself, viewed them both as wunderkinds. But while Miles was no slouch in the smarts department—even I had to admit that—Jordan rated as a bona fide computer genius, in a class by himself. If Miles put his not inconsiderable intelligence to work, he’d present Jordan with a salary-benefits offer he couldn’t refuse and get the kid on the full-time permanent payroll. Except, Jordan, being even smarter, would read the fine print of his contract and never sign it.
Unlike Miles, Jordan was nice. He stuck his hand out and introduced himself to Sixx. “Hi! I’m Jordan. I work with Moxie.”
“I’m Sixx. I’m her mate.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Jordan grinned.
“I’m from Dakon.”
Miles rolled his eyes.
“That’s so cool!” Jordan enthused.
“It is very cool there. My planet is caught in an ice age.”
“And what brings you to Earth? The weather?”
“I came in search of a female. I was fortunate to meet Moxie right away.” Sixx’s eyes glowed as he gazed at me, leaving no doubt as to how he felt.
Heat flooded my face.
“Well, you can’t do any better than Moxie. She’s awesome,” Jordan said.
See? Nice kid.
“Men from Earth aren’t good enough for you?” Miles glowered at me.
See? Not-so-nice.
