“What do you want from me?” I ask. “Sex?”
He raises an eyebrow, and I can’t help but giggle at his confused appearance. He looks surprised I even asked.
“Do I look like I need help getting laid?” He asks me quite seriously, and now it’s my turn to laugh.
“With abs like these?” I run a finger over his chiseled stomach. He’s hard, like a rock, and I wonder if I’ll break a nail just from touching him.
“I don’t need help getting laid, human,” he says, and I believe him.
“Then what do you want?”
“Your eyes.”
“You can’t take my eyes,” I say, suddenly freaking the fuck out. He is a serial killer! I knew it! He’s going to fucking carve them out and put them in a jar. He’s a freak. He’s a freak and I’m trapped on his ship and he’s going to cut out my damn eyes.
I turn and start to crawl away from him, but Quinn grabs my ankle and pulls me right back. I land firmly on my belly in front of him before wiggling around to sit on my ass. He hasn’t even moved. He’s still squatting in front of me like all of this is completely normal.
“Calm down,” he says. “You know, if you freak out every time I say anything, it’s going to be a long couple of days.”
“Days?”
“Yeah, with both of us looking, we should be able to find everything we need within a few days.”
“You mean, you mean you don’t want to carve out my eyes?”
“What? No!” He looks grossed out and suddenly, I’m a little embarrassed at my reaction to him. Obviously, I completely overreacted. Obviously, I was being weird and he was being normal.
Quinn sighs and runs a hand through his hair. I want to reach for it, want to feel it in between my fingers, but I don’t. Instead, I take a deep breath and try to calm down. He’s an alien, after all. He can smell me. He can smell my fear and my emotions and…oh, shit. My arousal. He can smell my arousal.
Suddenly, I wonder if he’s noticed all the times I’ve been turned on around him, but I know it’s better if I don’t know.
It’s better if we keep that separate between us.
It’s easy to think that trying to seduce the big, bad alien would be a good way to spend my time here. After all, I’m locked up, anyway. Would sleeping with my captor really do any harm?
Any at all?
Part of me thinks no.
All of me thinks yes.
And right now, I just can’t stop staring at him.
“I’m looking for something,” Quinn says.
“What are you looking for?” I try to look at his eyes instead of his broad chest. I try to stay focused on his face instead of his body, but I can’t. He might be looking for something and he might want my help, but I’m looking for something, too.
I’m looking for comfort.
I’m looking for hope.
I’m looking for something to take my mind off this entire damn day, off this entire damn week.
I’m look
ing for anything that’s going to make me feel better and right now, there’s nothing.
Except for him.