Alien Knight Blind Date Disaster

because she was straddling it. There was no soft give of a pillow under her cheek, either. Damned table was rock-hard yet oddly comfortable at the same time. And moving up and down in a soothing, rhythmic pattern. Weird.
Wiggling slightly to find a more comfortable position, Isabella froze when one very large hand came to rest on her hip, repositioning her, holding her in place. Sleep was suddenly a distant memory.
Keeping her eyes firmly shut, she debated what to do. Her alien hostage was finally awake, judging by the huge hand that not only remained on her but had begun lightly exploring. If she stayed where she was, straddling him, she might want to do something crazy, like start rubbing against the very large, hard shaft she could feel beneath her. Or explore his very masculine chest. Shoulders. Abs.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. Thirty-six hours he’d been out. She’d slept, paced, eaten some food, rubbed more paste on him, paced some more and fallen asleep.
A day and a half of stress, worry and…well, worry. Not that he was hers to worry about, but still.
A small groan escaped her before she could hold it back. She was a hot-blooded woman after all. She’d had sex before. Been in relationships, even tried casual hookups a few times. Somehow, she knew this would be different. He was a true alpha male. Demanding. Possessive. He’d want to rule over her in bed.
Shivering at the errant thought, she was shocked at the heat spreading through her body, wild and free. Her breath hitched up a notch, nipples hardening into tight peaks. Her traitorous body pulsed with an all-consuming need for Falden. She wanted. Needed him to fill her. No. No. No. Get a grip. That is not going to happen. He lied to you. Set you up. He’s a black market…something. And he glows. And he’s drop-dead gorgeous. A super-hot, fantasy-inspiring kind of hot, but that’s still no excuse for jumping his bones. He might come across as a white Knight, but he’s the bad guy. Or one of them, anyway.
Besides, she continued with the internal counseling, even if he wasn’t the bad guy, she was still mad as hell that he’d wrecked her deal the night before. Pretended to be her contact, John Doe. Almost got her killed. He had set her back to square one with the black market dealers after months of work trying to earn their trust.
She snorted in derision. No. That wasn’t fair. What was she saying? He’d been shot, for real, trying to protect her. So, okay, score one big, huge point in his favor. Still, as far as she was concerned, the whole situation could’ve been avoided. The backtracking and groveling she was going to have to do with her buyer was Falden’s fault. Months of work wasted. Time lost. All. His. Fault.
With less reluctance than she would ever admit, she silently slid off him and to the side, careful not to damage any of his male parts. Opening her eyes, she was greeted by a huge, hard male chest full of glowing, opalescent blue whirls and swirls. She gasped. They were still so beautiful. Lifting one finger to his chest, she slowly traced one particularly large swirl from the tip of his shoulder to where it ended below his flat male nipple, fascinated.
She’d done that, she thought. She’d lit him up. Her. She figured they’d have gone back to their normal color by now, like the white crystalline swirl on his temple. But not these. They blazed with the same inner fire from the night before. Something inside her softened. Melted. Caught fire. Desire raged through her, drumming, throbbing in her core. Her eyes drifted closed as her head arched back, the tips of her breasts grazing his chest. She needed more. Needed him inside her.
The low, masculine growl of approval jerked her back to reality. Heart hammering in her chest, she met his gaze. His icy blue eyes were full of heat as they stared down at her, trapping her in a timeless dance. She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t think.
Slowly his mouth moved toward hers, giving her time to choose. Turn away. Say something. Tell him to get lost. Leave her alone. She did none of those things. Her lips parted of their own volition, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet suddenly dry lips. An invitation. An offering. She didn’t know. All she knew was that she wanted him. Wanted his lips on hers. His body pressed against hers, his shaft buried deep inside her.
Tilting her head to one side, her eyes closed without conscious thought. She wanted his mouth on her. At last, after waiting what seemed like forever, his lips, featherlight, touched hers.
She groaned in pleasure, wanting more, needing more, but he held steady. She knew what he was doing. If she wanted the kiss to deepen, she would have to go to him. No guessing. No misunderstandings. No mistakes. She also knew, somehow understood, that once she gave her consent, he was going to take charge. He was an alpha male. The choice would be hers and hers alone, but once made, he would take control. Quivering with need and anticipation, she shifted a scant inch closer, her lips pressing fully into his. Slightly open. Inviting.
Falden didn’t need a second invitation. Moving to deepen the kiss, to wrap her in his arms, he tried to shift his hand but met resistance. Damn. One hand was still shackled to the bed with the handcuff. Thoughts of getting any more information out of her disappeared in the face of his need. With very little effort, he snapped the link and was free, his hand burying itself in the mass of her dark hair. Her sharp intake of breath gave him pause. Had his inhuman strength scared her? Made her change her mind?
With the kiss broken, he eased away. Gave her room. He needed her to know who she was