Stefani Davis, Biscayne Bay, Florida
I leaned back, bracing my weight on stiff upper arms as the sailboat cut through the waves. At least once a month I made time, with my friends Carmen and Greg, to spend an afternoon on the water. Now that both my mom and my twin sister had mated Atlan Warlords and moved to another planet, I spent a lot of time alone. Too much time.
A twin without a twin was a sad, pathetic thing. Out on the water was the only time I felt alive anymore. And free.
Lifting my face to the sun, I let out a loud whoop. “I love sailing!”
Sitting right next to me on the bow of the forty-footer, Carmen laughed. “Me, too.”
Greg handed us both another margarita and settled on a folded towel next to Carmen as the sail snapped and waves crashed around us. “And this, lovely ladies, is why you will never convince me to leave Florida.”
I was about to agree when Carmen smacked my leg. Hard. “Effing-A Stef. Look at that guy on the beach. Total hunk.”
I turned my head to follow her gaze and almost dropped a frozen margarita in my lap.
Oh, god. Oh shit. That was an Atlan. Had to be. He was too big, too gorgeous with his shirt off. Jeez, he was showing too much…muscle. “He should put on a shirt.”
“Are you insane?” Carmen leaned forward and pulled a pair of small binoculars from where they rested around her neck. She lifted them so she could spy on the man. “He’s way too hot to cover up.”
With a knowing grin, I met Greg’s gaze. Carmen was a wild woman. We both knew that. Greg nudged her with his shoulder. “You going to try to find him when we get back to shore? We’re getting close.”
I checked my watch and sighed. He was right. About ten minutes and we’d be walking off the boat. Damn it.
“He’s running.” Carmen giggled. “Oh my god. Stef, I think that guy is chasing the boat.”
“What?”
Carmen handed me her binoculars and I looked for myself.
I shouldn’t have looked. Now my peaceful day on the water was instantly ruined by a throbbing, horny vajayjay and a bit too much tequila. Seriously? I licked my lips. Could this guy be any more perfect? He ran like he could run at top speed for hours. The sun made his skin look like he was glowing, from sweat or the water splashing beneath his feet, I wasn’t sure. Didn’t matter. All it did was define every muscle in his chest and across his back. His thighs and legs stretched and contracted as he ran, every muscle popping out to say hello. His dark hair was just long enough to flow back from a face that looked carved from granite. “What the hell is he doing all the way out here?”
Carmen grabbed the binoculars from my hands, held them up to her eyes. “I wouldn’t kick him out of bed. I can tell you that.” She practically purred. “You know him?”
I sighed. “No, but I’ve met enough Atlans to know one when I see one.”
“He’s one of those aliens? What do they call them?” Greg took the binoculars from Carmen.
“Warlords.”
“Fuck me, that guy is ripped.” Greg whistled and even from this distance I saw the Atlan turn his head in our direction. “And fast.”
“I told you, he’s following us.” Carmen sipped at her margarita and stared at the Atlan as he picked up speed. “Stef, I swear he is following us. Why is he following us?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t. Not for sure. Carmen was right, it did look like he was pacing the boat, keeping us in sight. Which could only mean one thing—he thought his mate was on this sailboat. We were going to hit the docks and an eight foot tall alien was going to walk up to one of the handful of women on this boat—mostly tourists— and say the one word I dreaded hearing…mine.
About the Author—
He does look like a beast. Hope he doesn't drop the baby.
ReplyDeleteSounds like an awesome read.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing, it sounds like a great read.
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