Page 13 of Alien Jeopardy

We are flying.

Flying.

All of my irritation with Poppy has drained away thanks to my brain catching up with the sheer impossibility of the moment.

My fear melts away too, turning into awe as I chance a glance between his shoulder and my cheek.

My eyes widen, my hair whipping around my face, my ponytail holder hanging on for dear life.

This place is beautiful.

Untouched.

Green pine forests stretch across the land below, broken up by rocky, mountainous terrain complete with steep cliffs and more than one river foaming between sharp-edged banks.

I blink, trying to keep my eyes from drying out as the wind buffets us. I’ll need some of those goggles aviators used to wear if we’re going to be flying often. A stylish choice to be sure. Eat your heart out, Poppy.

A shiver wracks my body, the temperature dropping more the longer he flies. My teeth begin to chatter, and I bite down hard to keep them from clacking.

Still slightly nauseated—whether from the reality of flying bareback with an alien or the devastatingly large number of margaritas last night, I couldn’t say—I cling tight to the green alien’s body, trying to reposition myself slightly.

Only to encounter what feels like miles of rock-hard muscles.

Whew.

Suddenly, the cold high-altitude air and my lack of proper clothing stop bothering me.

Liquid fire sears through my veins, turning my skin hot and flushed as if I have a fever. The nausea fades too, replaced by something else.

Desire.

And not like, oh shit, I’m crushing on the massive alien I’ve wrapped myself around.

Nope.

More like, if I don’t touch myself right now, immediately, I might spontaneously combust. And if the alien touches me there, I might also spontaneously combust.

I’ll put the come in combust.

The mere thought of him touching me is enough to make a fresh wave of fire burn through me.

His nose nuzzles my forehead, and I turn my face back towards him, my eyes widening in embarrassment as moisture seeps through the thin, silky pajama shorts I’m wearing.

What.

The.

Fuck.

I bite my lip, staring into his golden eyes, unable to do more than hang on for dear life as he flies us to lord only knows where, confusingly aroused, sweat beading at the back of my neck.

I need to think about something else.

Anything else.

Work.

Work will do. Excel spreadsheets. Pivot tables.