by Rie Warren
Furious, I dug into him with my elbows, fighting the way he tangled his fingers in my hair, the way his firm mouth moved so softly over mine. When his tongue darted out to trace my lips, I whimpered. I didn’t want to. This wasn’t premeditated. The one thing I hadn’t done for money was sell out sex.
I wasn’t about to start now, but he licked at me, hefting me higher in his strong arms. Then he angled his head until the fit was just right between our mouths, our bodies.
A moan escaped me when I dragged my tongue along his, my whole body draped against his much larger frame. I crushed my fingers into his hair, drew my legs up to his waist, let him take my entire weight.
Intense. Fireworks? Jeessus. Kissing this man set off a whole damn carnival of lights connected to every single sensitive point on my body. Until gasping, clinging, aching . . . yearning, I pulled back, slipping to my feet.
Determined not to be dumb and dizzy no matter how much that one kiss had me creaming my panties, I took up my helmet.
Mr. Do-Me-Now narrowed his changeable eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Very far away from you.”
“Come home with me.”
“Not likely.” I buckled my helmet. “How do I even know you’re not just a legit perv?”
He dug a phone from his pocket and thrust it at me. “Here’s my Tinder profile.”
“Tinder?” I hooted with laughter, glancing at the photo. Whoa-holy-muscles! But seriously? “Every skank in America’s on that app.”
“I noticed.” Dark brows lowered over his hooded eyes. “You’re different.” He placed his hands over mine, lips perilously close again. “Give me a chance.”
“I seriously think I’m getting punked instead of arrested now.”
“I am X. And you are my queen.”
I wrinkled my nose, pretending to be uninterested when every part of my body zinged in a way I’d never experienced before. “What you are is cracked in the head, man.”
“I promise I’m not.” Those strange eyes of his peered at me with total sincerity and searing intensity. “I’m the king of the planet Zenithia, and you’re my mate.”
All right. Now I didn’t care how sincere he seemed, dude was bonkers.
“King of what?”
“Zenithia.”
Shaking my head, I straddled my bike, but he moved in front of me, blocking my getaway.
“One week,” he intoned, the deep timbre of his voice as compelling as his delicious hunky body.
I chewed on my lip, considering. Then I snorted, because seriously. “First it’s one kiss. And now you want me to give you an entire week of my oh-so-busy life? Don’t think so.”
“I want to show you my home.” His fingers caressed from my cheek to my neck, and damn if my already speeding pulse didn’t kick into high gear. “Give me one week. Seven Zenithian days. Very similar to yours, Prairie—day follows night, and so forth.”
I reared back. The hell? I’d never told him my name. Stalker much?
His firm lips that’d been so hot and sculpted against mine lifted in a half smile. “No. I’m not a stalker.”
And he was even sexier when he smirked like that. Because the man wasn’t already impossibly hot. “Oh wait, now you expect me to believe you’re a psychic or something? Like that Jersey woman?”
“What Jersey woman?”
This had to be the most batshit conversation. “I was talking about the Long Island Medium chick. Long Island, Jersey Shore. Close enough, right?”
He flipped a hand impatiently like how he came to know my name was of no consequence whatsoever.
I started my bike, revving the engine. “Look, buddy, I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.” He was so frigging massive, even if I shoved against him full force I wouldn’t be able to shift him an inch. “And now you want me to go off with you for a week? How do I know you’re not screwing with me? I watched Star Trek. I know all about the space-time continuum shit. One week could end up being ten years no matter what you said, and I wouldn’t even realize it.”
If he was telling the truth about another planet, which wasn’t even possible.
His head dropped back, and the laugh that boomed from him made my tummy flutter. His serious face lit up in pure amusement, and crinkles appeared around his green eyes.
“Something funny?”
He dragged a hand down his face. “The space-time continuum comment. You have no idea.”
I narrowed my gaze. “X, right? I’m not even convinced you’re not just out to hack me into tiny pieces and bury me in the Mohave Desert.”
Bending toward me, he hit me with that sincere gaze again. “No lies. No subterfuge. I want to take you to my home and treat you like the queen you are. One week, and I’ll bring you back if you don’t want me.”
I huffed. “You’re totally an extra on one of those annoying new Alien reboots, aren’t you?”
He didn’t move, merely lifted an eyebrow. And his proximity delivered a hit of his warm masculine scent. Everything about X screamed one hundred percent virility. Yep, the man was clearly crazy, but he was also damn sexy.
Welp. What else was I gonna do? Spread my legs for my nasty landlord? Find another squat? Sell off my precious Ducati instead of my body to get some cash? Or go away for a week, hide out with a serious hottie, and hope he wasn’t totally crackers?
I shrugged. “Fine. But I need to get my things.”
A lighter gleam entered X’s eyes with my sudden capitulation. “You won’t need any of your belongings.”
He tugged my hands, pulling me off the Ducati.
“I’m bringing my iPhone.”
“Cell service won’t extend to Zenithia, and we have far superior modes of communication than anything Apple could ever dream up.”
“Fine. I’m at least taking my leather jacket!”
X winked at me, a full grin spreading his yummy-looking lips.
Yup. Dude is definitely lacking brain cells.
CHAPTER THREE
Prairie
GRASPING MY HANDS, X pulled me against him. The second kiss was so sinfully hot it probably destroyed a few of my brain cells too. I stood on my tiptoes, unconsciously trying to get closer to this mystery man I’d just met.
I was never this easy. I was the hustler. But one touch of his tongue dragging alongside mine and I was lost in the kiss, in the sensation of him, the scent of him. A moan filtered from my throat, and my breasts ached as I rubbed them against his sturdy chest.
X softened the fiery kiss, groaning out my name and slowly separating our lips with enough wet suction I could only imagine what he’d be capable of once he went down on me.
Jesus. My knees were weak.
I didn’t even protest when he climbed onto my bike and motioned me to straddle behind him.
Was there anything sexier than a sharply dressed man in total control of a motorcycle?
So what if he was an alien, right?
My hysterical giggle as I retrieved my leather jacket from the saddlebag drew his attention, and one of his eyebrows rose like a wicked interrogatory. In the next instant, he gunned the Ducati to life, and another bubble of laughter escaped my lips.
Holding him around the waist, I snuggled up behind him. My fingers wandered over the suit jacket, feeling nothing but slabs of huge firm muscles beneath. Good Lord, I truly hoped he wasn’t a serial killer, because I couldn’t wait to get him naked and explore every ridge, every taut plane, and most definitely his cock.
My thighs gripped more tightly around his hips.
“So we’re flying my motorcycle to this place?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He was calling me ridiculous? Whatever, at that point I was just along for the ride.
X sped from the city, up, up, up into the hills beyond the massive mansions. When nothing was left but winding roads and wild woods, he throttled down.
In the middle of nowhere.
I started to have second thoughts.
&nbs
p; Make that third and fourth thoughts.
I disembarked the bike, taking off my helmet. He followed suit, smoothly dismounting the Ducati to stand in front of me.
“Well, don’t you have to get your things before we head off to Xenophobia?”
“Zenithia.” His lips quirked.
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t need to bring anything back. This world is transient.”
Huh. Maybe the stud had a point.
“What now?”
X grabbed my hand, threading his larger, rougher fingers through mine. “This way.”
I thought I should leave a trail of freaking breadcrumbs or something, but, heck, I clearly hadn’t thought this thing through at all.
Leading us deeper into the forest where thick branches overhead almost blotted out the sun, he ambled along like this was just a Sunday stroll in the park.
“So are all people of your . . . race super tall like you?” Small talk, let’s do this.
He glanced at me, irises flickering from green to gold again. “Yes.”
“And that thing you just did, with your eyes?”
“Only the royalty.”
“Riiiiiight. Because you’re the king.” We trudged over fallen leaves that carpeted the forest floor. “No offense, but you’re a little young, no?”
“I’m over three hundred years old.”
I yanked my hand from his. “Shut the front door!”
“What door?”
The hysterical giggles almost erupted again, but I swallowed them down. My hand crawled back into his, and for God’s sake, I was tempted to rest my head against his massive shoulder.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Just so we’re clear, um, if you really are a psycho intending to kill me—can you make it superfast, because I’m not into the whole torture thing.”
X halted and spun me toward him. “Have you so little respect for yourself you agreed to come with me even though you don’t trust me, Prairie?” A frown pulled down his brows.
Weird. I got the impression he was distinctly pissed off at me.
“Trust has to be earned, X.”
“Yes. I know that. That’s my intention when we get home.” Scowl smoothing out, he tugged me along with him, deeper and deeper into the woods.
I thought he meant it. He was either totally loco, an accomplished actor, or telling the truth. The man was completely foreign and oddly reassuring.
Reassuring until we reached a clearing, and X stopped. “Here it is.”
Umm. The clearing was completely empty.
“What? Not even any crop circles here?” I joked.
“Those weren’t created by flying saucers as suggested by popular conspiracy theories.” Reaching into the clearing, he appeared to flip a switch that just wasn’t there. “Crop circles are really just public art made by humans to spoof other humans,” X explained, continuing to fiddle with empty air.
Oooookay.
Kind of wished I had my switchblade on me right about now.
He adjusted something else—that didn’t exist—and nodded in satisfaction. He motioned me forward into the clearing.
“Duck your head,” he ordered.
To avoid what exactly?
I ducked, not sure whether to laugh or cry.
With my hand tucked in his, his other palm at the base of my spine, X wound us in a slightly circuitous route through the clearing, sometimes lowering his head, sometimes turning to the side like we were walking through a tight tunnel.
My eyebrows rose higher and higher.
Finally, he appeared to be tapping buttons like there was a control panel on a wall—both of which simply did not exist.
Okay, so he was certifiable. But on the plus side, he was a damn good kisser and way easy on the eyes.
He guided me forward again and turned to tap at another invisible control pad thing.
Then he pointed to the left. “Just sit here.”
“Where?” There was nothing here. Perhaps I’d been a bit reckless in agreeing to accompany X to Zenithia.
Grasping my shoulders, he pivoted me to the left and nudged me backward.
The backs of my calves collided with something firm and soft. I spun around. “What the fuck?”
“The Lex model XXXRAWR shuttle is invisible to the human eye.”
“What the FUCK?” The hysteria was back, that time minus the giggles.
X took my hands and eased me down, into a freaking invisible seat. Then he plunked next to me, humming as he appeared to quickly flip a series of controls.
“WHAT THE FUCK, X?”
He looked at me, humor once again making his eyes brighter. “This will probably go better if I just—”
Then he dropped a weirdly sweet kiss on my lips . . . and everything went black.
****
My eyes blinked heavily open, and my lips still tingled from X’s kiss. Wait. He’d made me pass out from a kiss?
Focusing slowly, I saw X hovering over me, filling my vision.
Anger and confusion rippling through me, I swatted him away. “What the hell, dude?”
As soon as he stepped back, I almost blacked out again, because we weren’t in frigging Kansas anymore. Everything in the compact room was Space Age chic. Space Age chic? The light was unearthly bright and seemed to come from within the walls. White walls that shimmered with soft gold and silver. And everything appeared . . . crystalline. From the comfy white table I lay on to a sleek console that pulsed with an inner glow.
“Where are we?”
“Zenithia.”
I scanned the surrounds again, drawing in a hiss when I looked out the window that opened to . . . an interior landing zone? I didn’t know. I didn’t have the vocab to compute what I was seeing. There was a spaceship out there though. A freaking spaceship.
“Is that . . . is that what we were in at the clearing?” I pointed a shaking finger.
“Yes. The Lex model XXXRAWR, like I said.”
“How come I can see it now?”
“The human veil has been removed,” X answered like no big.
And speaking of X, the swank suit was gone. And holy hell, I didn’t think his looks could’ve been improved upon but . . .
Yummo.
He stood gazing at me, lips firm and flat, his irises golden topaz—for the moment. He wore little more than a loincloth, and I was immediately a huge fan because the scrap of cloth hanging from his waist barely concealed a big package. It also gave me the chance to drool at his nearly naked body. Hard body. Massive body. His chest was so wide, and the muscles starting there just continued to his abs. His biceps looked like small mountains, his thighs corded with more muscle. His skin was curiously smooth. I wondered if he manscaped or if that was another Zenithian trait.
Zenithia. Jeeesus.
There were gauntlets of some type of metal covering his forearms, leather bands around his thighs and upper arms, and a vast array of multicolor tats or some-such-thing swirling across his upper body in bold designs.
As I watched, he planted his hands on his hips, fingertips pointing to his groin. “See anything you like, Prairie?”
And damn me for being a redhead because I actually blushed at his teasing tone.
I never blushed.
But then I never got abducted by alien sex gods either.
Although abducted was a little harsh considering I’d consented to the whole whisk me away to your home planet thing.
A concealed door opened before I could answer with a smartass reply, and a woman entered. An extraordinarily tall woman. She wore a swath of robes, the same stark silver as her hair. And her skin glossed over with a tinge of lavender like I was seeing her through a photo filter.
“Xyib*eepthxnin, sire.” She tipped her head at X, and he gave her a curt nod.
“XYZ what?” I asked, sitting slowly up.
“Xyib*eepthxnin is my name, Prairie.” He approached closer to me with slinky moves that once again
made my mouth water.
“But I thought you were called X.”
His large palm cradled the side of my face, a fingertip tickling my earlobe. “You’ve been fitted with an ear implant translator so you can understand our language.”
“When the heck did you do that? After you rufied me with that kiss?”
The woman watched our exchange, a smile possibly flittering on her lips.
“I kissed you because I wanted to.” Arrogance oozed off the man with the impossible to pronounce name.
Normally I found that kind of masculine self-confidence irritating, but of course it was wildly attractive in the X-Man.
His lips curved into a filthy smile, like he could read my mind.
That’s right. He made it seem like he could before. Back on . . . Earth. When he knew my name.
Stalker.
His grin grew. “The answer to that question is yes I can hear your thoughts, but I can teach you how to block me. And the kiss didn’t make you pass out. I simply put you in a deep sleep so the trip would be . . . less traumatic.”
“Okay. So you can read my mind. You can kiss me into oblivion—” I ignored the quirk of his eyebrows at that mention. “And you can put me into a deep sleep just because you want to?”
“Zenithians exist on a higher plane of consciousness.”
“Oh don’t give me that higher plane of bla bla bla bullshit,” I grumbled. “I’m just gonna keep calling you X.”
More like S-E-X.
I shook away that thought, spearing him with a glare. “Is this some new Universal Studios Amusement Park set-up?”
“Your majesty, I suggest we put her out,” the woman standing beside X suggested.
“Your majesty?” I laughed, a sound on the edge of mania. “I’m so not kissing the ring.”
X/Sex/Whatever drew his gaze from the tips of my toes to the tips of my breasts. “We are not rendering Prairie unconscious.”
“As you wish, your majesty.” The silver-haired woman, who stood at least seven feet tall, nodded just before she . . . kissed the ring on X’s right hand.
Then I frigging fainted.
CHAPTER FOUR
X
