Page 30 of Stolen By Her Alien Mate

Wine-stain marks, very similar to my own, dot along the first two inches of his wrist, climbing up his arm. I run my fingers over them, my mind running through every logical reason why me and this veritable stranger would have essentially the same birthmarks.

“Seed markings,” he says.

He shows me his other wrist which is a duplication of its partner.

I know I can’t make sense of this matching set of spots we share. I’ve always hated the birthmarks that dot my neck on either side, partly because one of my foster moms always tried to cover them with concealer. But partly because they’re so usual. Something kids used to tease me about when they tired of making fun of my second-hand clothes and my sensitive nature.

Seeing the marks on his wrists, my mind stutters, unable to make sense of them. I shake my head to snap out of it, or I’ll end up driving myself crazy looking for reasons and symbolism that aren’t there.

I haven’t always been a good judge of character or situations. But growing up in and out of foster care houses teaches you pretty quickly how to read things. Before I learned how to do that to protect myself, I was always searching. Looking for any little sign that meant the family would keep me. That meant I’d finally found my forever home.

That’s always such a sweet sentimental moment in movies. In reality, there are no signs and you don’t get to belong to anyone.

Other people might, but I don’t.

So I drop his hands and come to my feet.

“You are upset,” he says.

“No, I’m just busy. Have some studying to do.”

Firm hands grip my shoulders stopping my movement. Every touch from him, no matter how innocuous, sets my blood on fire.

I swallow thickly.

“My Joey,” his voice comes out in a husky whisper.

He’s standing close enough for his warm breath to scatter goosebumps all down my arms.

I lean into his touch, my back pressing to his front.

“What do you want?” I ask him.

I’m still so confused by his pursuit of me for so many reasons, least of all the fact that he’s way out of my league. That’s not even being self-deprecating; that’s just stone, cold facts.

“I want you,” he murmurs against my skin. His lips and tongue pepper kisses along the back of my neck. “You smell so good.” His hands slide down my shoulders, down my arms and settle onto my hips. “Feel so good.” This he says with a squeeze of my hips.

The hard ridge of his erection presses into my bottom and lower back. He does want me, there is no denying that.

I certainly can’t deny that I want him. I don’t think I’ve ever been this aroused. My body is practically vibrating with need. I turn in his arms, to face him. I search his face, his beautiful face with those intense verdant eyes. Eyes that are looking down at me with unabashed desire.

“We don’t know each other,” I say.

“The knowing will come later. After the bonding.” His fingers dig into the fleshy part of my ass. “Please say I can touch you, Minka. I am going mad without being able to put my hands on your skin, my lips on your lips.”

I want to say yes. To believe him. To trust him.

What the hell is that?

Yes, he’s hot. Yes, his hands are enormous, as is the rest of him. He practically towers over me. He’s huge and strong and intense. So the lust isn’t unexpected.

But that… something else… that instinct to trust him… that rattles me.

His hands are warm where they cup my jaw, his wrists brush the skin on either side of my neck, right where my weirdo birthmarks are. A sense of belonging sweeps over me. Of rightness. Of belonging in a way I’ve never felt before.

“Let me try something,” I whisper. Then I lean up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.

He growls—straight up growls—then picks me up and turns us around so that he has me pressed against the wall. I wrap my legs around his waist and deepen the kiss. Holy shit, can he kiss. I open my mouth to him and our tongues slide against each other. Hot, wet and delicious. With my ridiculous short sundress, I’m basically open to him with just my panties up against his—wow!— super hard length. That is currently getting harder and longer.