Blacklisted (Young Adult Alien Huntress 2)

“Windows are different. That’s why I removed them for the lower half of this building.”

I hated that I didn’t know this stuff already. Cara did. She was strong and confident. So are you. Now. Still. Did Erik compare us?

He didn’t speak as he removed the gun from my grip and replaced it on its velvet holder. He didn’t speak as he turned me around to face him. He didn’t speak as he cupped my chin in his hands and forced me to meet his gaze. “You stiffened. What’s wrong?”

A sigh slipped from me. “I’m not war-savvy. Usually I’m the biggest coward around. The past two days, I’ve been stronger and braver than I have my entire life, but I still don’t compare to your friends.”

“Former friends.” His hands tightened on my jaw. “I’ve told you how well I think you’ve handled yourself throughout this entire ordeal and you haven’t had a single day of training. Not to mention the fact that you’re injured. And you might not know about weapons, but that doesn’t make you any less of a warrior. You’ve pulled through this like a champ. I’ve told you that before and it’s time you started believing me.”

I hated to admit this—oh, how I hated it—but my bottom lip quivered and tears burned my eyes. God, what was wrong with me? He was saying such nice things. No reason to cry. “Look at me,” I said, wiping the tears with the back of my wrist and sniffling. “I’m acting like a baby.”

“That’s because you’re exhausted, running on adrenaline and grit. That will topple anyone, including me.”

“I don’t think anything could topple you.” I looked at him through the watery shield of my lashes.

He grinned. “Once, I was out on assignment, stalking a group of predatory Mecs. They were controlling the weather so it was hot and dry. I had to stay in that heat for six days while I tracked them, never really able to rest because I was afraid I’d lose them. By the time I returned to base, I was a wreck.”

“Did you cry?” I asked, unable to keep the hope from my voice. Not that I wanted him to have cried. I just didn’t want to be the only one.

“Worse.” His smile became wry as he traced his thumb over the seam of my lips. “I passed out in front of my boss.”

I laughed at the image of this big, strong guy going down.

He softly traced a fingertip under my eyes, following the line of the bruises. “My teammates teased me for months.”

How I loved the feel of his hands on me. And as I stood there, my amusement with him faded, opening a wide cataclysm of awareness. I stared at him, needing something. Another kiss?

His humor faded, too, like he’d read my thoughts. His entire body stiffened. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said roughly.

I licked my lips in welcome invitation. “Yes.”

His brown eyes heated and heated and heated. “I shouldn’t. You’re too young for me.”

“I’m eighteen. An adult.”

“The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done, the things I will do. I shouldn’t do this.” But he meshed his lips to mine, his tongue thrusting past my teeth and beginning a wild dance with mine. He tasted hot and minty, just as I remembered. I wrapped my uninjured arm around his waist, pulling him closer.

His head angled to the side as he claimed and conquered more of my mouth. Warmth spread to every corner of my body, invading warmth, drugging warmth. Better than this morning.

One of his hands traced the ridges of my spine and stopped at the curve of my butt. His other hand tangled in my hair. On and on the kiss continued, so decadent. So wild and wonderfully wicked. I moaned in excitement.

But when his hand began to inch up my T-shirt, skin on skin, and my hand began to inch up his, skin on skin, he stilled. He fisted the material for several seconds, then tore his mouth from mine.

He was panting; I was panting.

“Sorry,” he said harshly. He regarded me with longing—a look I’m sure I returned. “You’re not ready for this.”

“I am. Swear to God I am. I want to go further,” I admitted. And I did, I realized. I was ready, so ready, to take that next step. I loved him. He was more than just Erik Troy to me. He was savior, he was friend. He was pure excitement, absolute bravery.

“I want to go further, too. So badly,” he added, his gaze roving over me. “But I want you to be sure. Have you ever…?”

I blushed. “No.”

“That’s not something to be embarrassed about. That’s something to be proud of.” He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my still-tingling lips, lingering, breathing me in as I breathed him in.

“Have you?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

There was a pause. Then, “Yeah. For years, Cara was the only girl I’d been with. After we split, well, I’m ashamed to say I went a little crazy and slept with any girl who would have me. I stopped completely when I signed up at the high school.”

Other boys would not have stopped, I suspected.

“I don’t want to die without ever doing it,” I told him. “But I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”

Erik stepped forward, closer to me, forcing me to back up.

“What—where?” My knees hit the edge of something and I tumbled down, landing on soft cushions. The couch.

Erik eased on top of me, then shifted his weight so that our sides pressed together.

He kissed me once, twice, sweet kisses, innocent kisses, and then he deepened the contact, brushing my lips apart with his tongue. I moaned into his mouth and he swallowed the sound, feeding me wanton tastes of passion.

“I could kiss you for hours,” he said.

“Prove it,” I replied, and he chuckled softly.

Our tongues twined and sparred and danced and caressed. For the longest time, he didn’t do anything with his hands except hold me. But as my hands roamed underneath his T-shirt, over the hot skin of his back, he was spurred into action. His fingertips trekked along my stomach, swirled in my belly button, and I trembled.

“Feels good,” I breathed.

“Feels amazing.” He inched those naughty fingers higher, until he reached my breast. I wasn’t wearing a bra. When he cupped, kneaded, pinched my nipple, I cried out. “Want me to stop?”

“No. No stopping.”

“More?” Even as he spoke, he once again teased and taunted my nipple.

“More,” I said on a groan.

He rolled slightly, placing himself between my legs. His lower half arched forward, back, forward, rubbing between my legs. I gasped at the dizzying contact and even met him halfway, needing that hard press.