“Anybody you don’t trust?”
“I wouldn’t say I distrust Wingman, but he and I don’t get along.” Wingman didn’t trust him. He couldn’t fault him; as a general rule, you couldn’t trust a Xeno, and had the situation been reversed, Chameleon would have been guarded, too.
Bowing her head, Kevanne smoothed out the skirt of her dress then folded it into pleats. “How long are you staying on Earth?”
“Until our ship is fixed. It sustained severe damage in the jump then more damage on entry into Earth’s atmosphere. How long we stay depends on how long it takes to fabricate the parts we need.”
“You said you had an investor?”
“Yes. Edwin Mysk is interested in space exploration and is sponsoring us.”
“Edwin Mysk? The tech magnate?”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“He’s famous. He’s like the richest man in the world. And the most technologically savvy. If anyone can fix your ship, he can.”
“We’re in good hands, then.”
“The best.” She looked at him. “Would you like more ice cream?”
Earth food got better and better all the time. “Yes, please.”
She went to get the ice cream, and he remained in the living room enjoying the fire, analyzing it. Like most things in the galaxy, fire was good and bad, light and dark, like the Xenos. Creators but also destroyers. Just as fire could be. For primitive man, fire represented life, providing heat and protection from the elements and from predators. But fire also destroyed.
“What are you thinking about?” Kevanne handed him his bowl. “This is the last of the ice cream. But I’ll buy more on my next shopping trip.” He liked how that sounded, like he was being invited back. He relished spending more time with her.
“To answer your question, I was daydreaming about fire.” He scooped a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.
“What about it?” She kicked her shoes off under the table and then sat on the sofa. A little closer to him this time, he noticed.
“That it is beneficial but also destructive.”
“Where there is light, there is shadow,” she said. “Life is full of such contradictions. People, too, have a dark side.”
“Yes, they do,” he agreed.
“Even me.”
“Except you.” She was warmth, light, home, and intelligence in one lovely package.
“Oh, trust me, I have plenty of flaws.”
“That doesn’t make you dark, just human.”
She cocked her head. “So what about you? Do you have a dark side?”
“Yes.” She would despise him if she knew what his negligence had caused. “I am guilty of not doing enough to stop a travesty and doing it too late.” He clenched and unclenched his fist. “Of making an egregious error in judgment.”
“But you tried.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing, but I failed.”
“We tend to judge ourselves more harshly than others judge us. I see goodness and kindness in you. If you tried, you did your best, and that’s all you can do.”
“My best wasn’t good enough.”
“It’s good enough for me.” She leaned over and kissed him. He parted his lips, seeking more of what he had no right to take. She tasted like vanilla and chocolate and homey warmth. If she knew what his screwup had caused, she wouldn’t desire him. Herian, he should confess, tell her the darkest of his secrets, so she would push him away.
Protecting her demanded silence, and the selfish part of him would take advantage of that, stealing every moment he could. He wanted her. Her sweetness, her laughter, her. He wanted to strip away her clothing, revel in the sensation of skin to skin, sink into her, and lose himself in bliss. Bring her to ecstasy. Sexual satisfaction was one thing he could give her.
He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, tasting, savoring, exploring. Still clutching their bowls, they fondled each other with their free hands. He stroked her hair; she cupped the side of his face. He nuzzled her throat. She nibbled on his lips.
“We don’t need to hold these.” She chuckled and set their bowls on the low table then wrapped her arms around his neck. “Isn’t this better?”
“Much.” He pulled her onto his lap and claimed her mouth again. Her soft moan sent a hard zing through his entire body. His cock strained against his clothing. She would know how much he wanted her.
He threaded his fingers through the silken strands of her hair then caressed her throat before moving his hands over her shoulders, down her arms to the front to cup her breasts. Through her clothes, he could feel her nipples, two hard beads against his palms.
She kissed him, her mouth open, her tongue seeking and lashing. She curled one hand into his hair while massaging his chest, marveling at his muscles. “I want you, Cam,” she whispered. “We haven’t known each other long, but I know my own mind.”
Pleasure and pain arced through him. “I can’t stay.”
“Oh.” Her hand fell away from his neck, and the fiery light behind her eyes shuttered. “Of course. You have to get back to your ship.”
“No! I meant I can’t offer you a future. I’m here on Earth for a short period of time, but while I’m here, I would like to spend every second with you.”
Her smile lit up the room. “Well, okay, then.” She wiggled off his lap, stood up, and held out her hand. “The clock is ticking, so let’s get started.”
Chapter Thirteen
Kevanne refused to lose another precious second of happiness. She’d had a hunch her heart would be broken when Cam left Earth, but until that happened, she would live. As her therapist had told her often enough, she deserved happiness. Carpe noctem. Seize the night!
Her loveless, violent marriage had nearly killed her soul. Since Dayton, she’d felt dead, closed off to the possibility of romance, sex, love. She had doubted she could let down her guard enough to become intimate emotionally or physically, but Chameleon had changed her. Love wasn’t a possibility because he had to leave, but she could have the sex part and a little romance, too. He had a tender, sweet side—and a smokin’ bod. Plus, he was a great kisser.
The fact he’d been honest about leaving had earned her trust, and his impending departure made him a good practice boyfriend. She wouldn’t have to worry about him moving too fast or pushing her beyond her comfort zone. After not dating for more than a decade, rusty didn’t describe how she felt at the prospect of plunging into the dating pool. Chameleon would allow her to wade in. Nothing about him even remotely reminded her of Dayton. Him being an alien eliminated worries she’d say or do the wrong thing because he had no idea what dating on Earth was like. No judgment. No strings. No commitments, just an alien with benefits.
His large, warm hand gripped hers as she led him to her bedroom. “Lights on or off?” she asked.
“On. I’d like to see you.” He squeezed her hand and then released it so she could turn on the lamp.
The covers were in a jumble. If she’d guessed she’d be entertaining a male visitor, she would have made the bed, but it was going to get messed up anyway.