His frown deepened, but at least he rebuckled.
A horn blasted. Startled, she scanned the highway. Just a few spots ahead, a driver swerved from one side of the road to the other. She accelerated to pass him, entering a construction zone.
The faster she drove, the more Jorlan relaxed his stiff posture. “’Tis exhilarating, this speed.” His chuckle wafted to her ears, warm, husky and ’tis, oh, so inviting.
This man annoys me, she reminded herself.
They lapsed into silence. Unfortunately, that silence worked against her. Instead of concentrating on the oncoming traffic and orange cones that lined the median, she focused on her insatiable curiosity about her guest. “How long were you imprisoned in the stone?”
“Nine hundred spans, seventy-two days and twenty-four minutes.”
Had he spent the entire time counting? “A span is…”
“A year.”
“Wow.” Mind boggled. “You were imprisoned for almost a thousand years.” He should be buying Depends, drinking Ensure and worrying about osteoporosis. “Are you…immortal?”
“Yes and no. I am part sorcerer, so it is more difficult to kill me than, say, a normal human, but I can die.”
“But that’s imposs—” Wrong! Nothing was impossible. Not anymore. Magic? Yep. Curses? Of course. A thousand-year-old alien warrior handsome enough to be a model, who would live forever? Why not?
“Oftentimes the myths and legends of one world are the facts of another. Over the spans,” he said, “many people wandered through the garden. Some were vampires and some were werewolves, the boogeymen of my world.”
Vampires and werewolves were real, too? Goodness gracious! “You said you’re only part sorcerer. What’s your other half?”
“Mortal.”
“How long will you live, if you are never injured?”
The corner of his eye twitched. “That does not concern you.”
Had she struck a nerve? “I can drive you back to the garden, if you’d like.” To make a point, she jerked the steering wheel to the left.
Tone stilted, he said, “I am the second son of a great lord and a priestess. Two people who were never supposed to wed. My path is uncharted. Mayhap I will live forever. Mayhap not.” He paused. “Now it is your turn to answer a question for me.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
“Are you for or against falling in love?”
She blinked at the odd subject change. “I’m not sure I understand your question. Do you want to know what I think about any man and any woman falling in love with each other?” Or us falling for each other?
“Aye.”
“I’m for it. Love is powerful. Wonderful. Necessary.” But it was also unobtainable for her. “Why do you want to know?”
Instead of answering, he smiled with satisfaction and shifted to face the window. Though slight, the movement caused his sheet to part, revealing a portion of his thigh.
Katie snapped her chin forward. Watch the road, slag. But it wasn’t long before her gaze returned to Jorlan, her mouth watering for a nibble of that golden flesh.
She’d seen every inch of him, yes, but she hadn’t let herself stare. Now…
He shifted in his seat, exposing more. More. Please, please, please. Yes! The sheet split the rest of the way, revealing the entire length of his leg.
Am I drooling?
“What are you thinking about?” he asked. “In seconds, your face flushed and your eyes turned ravenous.”
Shi—crap! No cursing. She’d already used up today’s quarters. Anyway. Katie jerked her attention to where it belonged. “I’m not going to sleep with you, okay, so turn down the sizzle.”
The second the words escaped her mouth, she wished she could snatch them back. She might as well have asked if he wanted to finger paint her naked body with chocolate ice cream and lick it off.
A knowing, masculine chuckle filled the small cab. Thankfully, he didn’t reply—What could he say, really?—and the rest of the ride passed in silence.
About ten minutes later, she parked in her garage. Her nerves kicked up. What would he think about her house? A one-story abode with two thousand square feet, brand-new everything and modern furnishings. A show piece she didn’t actually like, but used to lure new clients.
Once inside, she whisked Jorlan to the guest bedroom, where she dug out a Dallas PD T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that Gray had left behind.
While Gray had always looked relaxed and cozy in the clothing, Jorlan looked eatable, his rock-solid build stretching the material to showcase his brawn. Seriously. He sent her hormones into overdrive. Had any other man ever looked so indecent in a pair of too-tight sweatpants?
Note to self: write Hanes a very stern letter about appropriate leisure wear.
PS: burn the rest of Gray’s clothes. The garments are obscene!
“What do you think?” Jorlan asked, spinning slowly.
“You are—” glorious “—passable.” The understatement of the year, but she couldn’t let his ego grow.
His shoulders rolled in true man-pout fashion.
Do not laugh. Or melt. “What do the people of Imperia wear?”
“More formal attire.”
Meaning prom gear? Ick! Katie adored her comforts. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the house.” She ambled into the living room, her newly clothed alien not far behind, his gaze scalding her back.
Heat percolated underneath the surface of her skin. She stopped, whipped around, ready to demand he glance away.
She froze instead. The sparkle in his eyes…
He planned to do something naughty, no doubt about it, and her heart leaped with excitement. Dang him! The man was too appealing for his own good, and he was standing way too close for her peace of mind.
I want that orgasm he promised me.
Okay. Clearly she needed space and some sort of brain enema.
Chin up, shoulders back, she stepped away from him.
He followed.
Their gazes were locked, the space between them crackling with awareness. “Whatever thoughts are currently rolling through your mind, whatever your body desires, tell me, and I’ll do it. With me, nothing will be taboo.”
Shivers plagued her, their bodies generating enough electricity to light the entire state of Texas. She peered at his hands. Blunt and callused, clean yet well worked. The hands of a warrior. Under the right circumstances, those hands were probably capable of extreme gentleness, even tenderness. Under other circumstances, those hands were definitely capable of extreme violence.
“N-no thank you,” she managed to squeak out. She would never ask him for an orgasm.
Fine! Never was a strong word. She probably wouldn’t ask him for an orgasm. No, that didn’t work, either. She might not ask him for an orgasm. Argh!
Jorlan inclined his head, one dark eyebrow arched, his mouth curled in that knowing grin she’d begun to despise. “My poor katya. Your pride and stubbornness will not make you scream with pleasure or keep you warm at night.”
His raspy tone had more sex appeal than the Kama Sutra, and she almost shouted, Screw it! Let’s get naked. Should she, though?
She’d never before dealt with such a sex-minded, eager man, or such blatant, in-your-face masculinity. What’s more, she just didn’t possess the soft, angelic beauty that usually inspired this type of ardor.