It’s a struggle, but I sit up to get a better look at him, wrapping the warm sheet over my shoulders. Calix’s hands stroke down my body as it still quakes with aftershocks. He whispers nonsensical sweet words into my ear and I turn my face into his neck, my hand diving into the thick scruff of his close-cropped hair. He doesn’t keep it long, like the others. Not my sexy scientist. He inches back, his dark eyes locked on mine, and I lift a hand to trace the pronounced edges of his cheekbones, the bony ridges of his prominent brow.
When he doesn’t object, I tug him closer, lifting to fit my mouth to the firm curve of his, pressing a kiss to his lips. Despite the orgasm he’s just given me, I find myself pulling closer, my breathing labored, hoping for him to deepen our kiss, but he doesn’t. In my world, I’d never been bold. My sickness had left me on the sidelines of my own life. I watched instead of participating. I’d observed instead of experiencing.
I’ve been the one receiving orders instead of giving them. Calix is all too happy to follow my lead and the power of being in charge is intoxicating. He’s so different, so kind, to me. When he touched me between my legs, I wasn’t shy. I was…bold. The kind of woman I always wanted to be. So when I see my own need reflected in his eyes, I ask for the one thing I never wished for back in my old life…more.
When he doesn’t open his mouth to mine during another attempt, I pull back. “Do they kiss here?”
His hungry eyes are on my lips. I lick them and his growl vibrates in his chest. His own forked tongue flashes out to scent the air, reminding me of a snake. The sexiest snake I’ve ever seen. And just as dangerous and thrilling. “I have overheard Breccan and Aria talking about kiss.”
“Kissing,” I correct gently. I’ve never wanted something so much in my life. How would that tongue feel with mine? I want to know.
“Kissing,” he repeats slowly. “What does it mean?”
I scoot over on the exam table as he perches by my side. Focusing on answering the question helps distract me from jumping him any more than I already have. If I had blood left in my face to blush, it’d be beet red. “Well, you press your lips together like we were. Sometimes, you open your mouths and rub your tongues together.” I pause, considering my words. “It doesn’t sound as attractive as it is, but it’s much more pleasant while you’re actually doing it.”
His forked tongue flicks out again. My stomach seizes. “What is the purpose of this kissing?” he asks. When he speaks, he lifts one sharply nailed claw to scrap against my lower lip. Considering his job, it makes me wonder if he views everything with such an intense curiosity. It should make me feel like a test subject, but it’s flattering. Where else would he direct his studious nature? The possibilities are more intriguing than I want to admit.
Too intriguing.
My breath freezes in my chest and I pull away when he leans forward for another kiss.
He frowns. “Did I do it wrong?” he asks. “Are you feeling ill?”
“No, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong at all. In fact, you’re doing everything so, so right.”
I press a hand to my head where common sense wars with my excitement. It was my bad decisions on my part in the past that led me to this foreign planet in the first place. Despite how attracted I am to Calix and how much I want a repeat of his hands on me, I can’t forget that he’s a stranger…and my only hope at surviving.
“Then why do you wilt, my lilapetal?” His claws tangle in my hair, the ends lightly massaging my scalp, soothing the brewing headache beneath.
My eyes flutter closed. Starved for touch for so long makes being sensible almost impossible, especially when it comes to Calix, apparently. Gooseflesh erupts on my arms and I shiver. Calix, who never seems to miss anything, lifts my arm for closer inspection. His claws retract and the bumpy, thick pads of his overlarge fingers trail gently down my skin. I can practically hear the gears in his brain turning. His intelligence is almost as attractive as the man himself.
The sensation overwhelms me. Heats my blood and makes me want to purr underneath his touch. I grip his hand to stop him. I want to explain, but the words make my tongue thick and my brain slow, so I stumble over my clarification. “You—I—this was nice. So nice you can’t even imagine. But we should probably take this, us, slow so neither of us gets hurt.”