Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Kitty
I had never been so turned on in all my life. It was too much. And all from him holding my foot? I stumbled as I jerked my foot out of his hand and turned, hobbling toward the kitchen.
Don’t think about him naked.
Great. So now I was thinking about a sexy alien. Naked.
Who said anything about sexy?
It was getting quite noisy in my head, so I smiled what I hoped was a friendly smile as he followed me into the room, ducking his head to fit through the doorway. He had to be close to seven feet tall, his shoulders so broad that he was straining the seams of the old plaid shirt that was the biggest I could find. It was huge on me, falling to my knees, but on him? The front wouldn’t even meet in the middle of his chest.
His very muscular chest.
I cleared my suddenly parched throat and gestured for him to take a seat at the table, but he shook his head. “I can’t sit, my tail…” He spread his hands as if in apology, and I could have smacked myself in the forehead.
Of course those pants are uncomfortable. He has a damned tail!
A long, expressive tail with a tuft of lilac fur on the end.
I opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors, which I offered to him. “Can you cut a hole in them with these?”
He smiled, and something loosened in my chest for the first time in months. I had a feeling that everything would be all right. He reached and took the scissors, placing them on the table before undoing the button on his jeans and sliding the zipper down.
I spun away, turning my back to give him some privacy, my face heating. What was with this guy and nudity? It was freezing, for one thing, and I was a stranger.
Huh. I didn't know what his name was.
“What's your name?” The sounds of him undressing paused, but I didn’t want to check over my shoulder to see what he was up to. I strained, listening for his reply, but all I could hear was my heart pounding and the crackling of the fire. “You have a name, don't you?”
“Of course,” he said, his voice a deep rumble in the quiet room.
“Well, what is it?” I waited, the silence stretching almost to the point of discomfort, before he answered.
“My formal name is Luk 456th.”
I blinked in surprise. What a strange name. “Do you have a… less formal name? It’s a little odd to call someone a number.” For some reason, calling him that felt wrong.
“Yes.” The snip of scissors punctuated his reply.
“Are you going to tell me?” I said with a small smile, half turning my head before remembering he was still undressed and whipping back around.
“My people only share their less formal names—their chosen names—with their immediate family or their mates,” he said, and something in his tone made me think this was a sore topic for him. “I’ve never shared mine with anyone.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling my chest clench. But my heart leaped as I realised that meant he didn’t have a mate, which I assumed was his equivalent of a partner or spouse.
“It’s about the most intimate thing someone of my people could share with another person.” The sound of denim being pulled on, and a zipper being done up, greeted me and I turned around.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I understand.” My cheeks flooded with heat at the faux pas.
Would I ever not blush around this man?
“Let's try this again, shall we? Hello, my name is Kitty. What’s yours?” I held out my hand in greeting. Luk stared at it.
Silence stretched between us and, just as I was about to pull my hand back, he reached out and grasped it in his. There was something about the formal introduction that seem to break the awkwardness between us, or maybe it was that spike of heat that speared through me at his touch.
“My name is Luk 4—” He cleared his throat. “My name is… Jon.”
I gasped; my eyes wide as I blinked at him. Had he just shared his chosen name with me? I didn’t want to ask in case he’d just made something else up, but something told me that wasn’t what this was.
“Hello, Jon,” I said and smiled. “Welcome to my home. It’s an honor to meet you.” As I shook his hand, I realized I meant every word. It was an honor. And I felt honored that he had shared his name with me.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked, easing my hand from his and turning to fill the kettle from the tap, before putting it on to boil.
Something about the familiar domesticity calmed me and I pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table, Jon doing the same.
You have an alien—a hot alien—sitting at your kitchen table. Dear lord.
“So, Jon. Where are you from?”
Way to go, Kitty. Smooth.
I could have smacked myself in the face. Thankfully, he didn't notice how awkward I was. Or was he simply too polite to mention it?
“I'm Gnaggarrian.”
I tilted my head as I looked at him. Really looked at him. The light in the kitchen gave me an opportunity to survey his features. I was finding myself relaxing, probably because of the comfort of the familiar kitchen. His eyes with their vertical pupil suited him. The pale color was not insipid, but seemed to pulse with an inner light. The pale lilac of his skin darkened in places, almost like our own tan lines that we got in summer. Down the side of his neck, faint, darker purple marks sprinkled over his muscled skin.
My eyes dropped to his lips, and I watched as his tongue darted out to lick his full bottom lip. I felt as if my clothes were too tight.
“Kitty,” he said, my name in his deep voice calling something inside me.
“Yes?”
“What’s that noise? ”
The steam rose from the kettle as it whistled, and I jerked. I pushed myself up from the table and busied myself pouring water into mugs for our tea. I wasn’t sure how he’d like his, so I just made it the same as mine; milk and one sugar.
I placed the mugs on the table and settled back into my seat across the table from him. He looked at the steaming mug, his brows drawn together.
“It’s tea. A hot brewed drink using the leaves of plants,” I explained.
He nodded and took a tentative sip. I smiled as he closed his eyes and sighed, taking a deeper swallow as he became accustomed to the taste. The muscles of his throat worked as he drank, and I tilted my head, watching him. There were so many differences between us, and I wasn't just talking about his tail.
Or his dicks.
At the thought of his dicks, I squeezed my thighs together, to ease the ache that had built there. I’d never felt so comfortable with someone so soon, and the thought of what that could mean was a little overwhelming.
I needed some space, and it was very late. I looked at my watch, yawning. “How is it two in the morning already?”
“You must take care of yourself, little Kitty.” His brows were drawn in concern. “Where do you take your rest?”
“Where do I sleep?” I left my mug on the table, deciding the morning would come soon enough and I would take care of the dishes then. I paused in the doorway, gripping the frame to keep my weight off my sore foot, and gestured for Job to follow me. He was by my side in an instant, one hand at my elbow to steady me as I made my way to my bedroom, further down the hallway.
The room had been the spare room until I had moved in. It was cozy. A fireplace in one corner, unlit, with a comfortable armchair next to it. I looked from the bed to Jon. There was no way he would fit. He was far too tall. And the room that had been Gran’s room wasn’t much bigger.
“Is it all right if I make you a bed on the floor?” I asked, feeling like the worst possible host. “I don’t think you’ll fit on any of the beds.” I mentally calculated how many blankets and pillows there were in the house. If we pulled the cushions off the sofa, I could make him a bed in the living room.
He tilted his head in consideration. “You’re right. Wait here.” He left the room, quickly returning with cushions from the couch cushions and a bundle of throw pillows in his arms.
“Oh, I didn’t—” I stopped as he peered over the top of the pile, his eyes big. “Never mind. Put them on the floor there.” I pointed next to the bed. Surely that would be fine? It wasn’t as if we were sleeping together.
Right?