Alien Knight Blind Date Disaster

she would say he was an exception. Everything about him screamed predator. Dangerous. Powerful. A true alpha male. He oozed confidence. Authority. She’d never known icy blue could burn so hot, but the heat in his eyes set her on fire. Every feminine cell in her body was screaming that she needed to have hot, sweaty sex with him. Lots of it. Needed him to fill her again and again. Mark her. Make her his. But her brain screamed just as loudly against it. She couldn’t get around the asshole factor. Which was high.
He watched her with an intensity that made her nervous. “Thank you, Isabella, for agreeing to go out with me.”
That was it. He obviously didn’t know the code words. He knew her real name. So, who the hell was he and how had he known she would be here? “My pleasure, truly.” She didn’t even choke on the lie.
“And I thank you for your punctuality. I do not tolerate tardiness,” he added, completely ignoring her name correction.
Well, well, well. Asshole was back.
“I also insist on paying for our purchases this evening, as I asked you to meet with me.”
Paying for our purchases? Purchases she was not allowed to choose for herself? Really generous, this one. Honestly, he sounded like he was reading from a script. A really bad one.
And he was wrong. Dead wrong. She was the one who had set up this meeting, and not with him.
So what had happened to her real contact? And who was this guy?
Curiosity spinning out of control, she settled in to find out what she could. They were in public, he was sexy, and he was obviously after something. Maybe this was the lead she needed, a clue sitting across from her smelling like a sex god. She’d done worse for a story. And she’d do whatever it took to find her missing friend.
At least she wouldn’t have to pay for the stupid salad. She hated salad. As she’d insisted since she was a child, much to her mother’s disappointment, she was not a rabbit.
He seemed perturbed by her lack of response. “I am being very generous.”
She nearly choked on her next two words. “Of course, John. Thank you. I appreciate it.” She knew that wasn’t his real name, but she had nothing else to call him.
“Of course you do.” Falden’s expression was impossible to read, leaving her at a complete loss as to what to say. What a weirdo.
Tapping her shoe on the hardwood floor, she took a sip of water, swallowed the fire from the liquor still burning its way down her throat to her stomach, and forced as natural a smile as she could manage onto her face. Her decision was made. She needed to turn this anonymous “drop” into something more.
She wanted him to take her back to the base with him. This could be her only chance to find out what had happened to Sevron. She needed to change her tactics. Draw him in. Make him like her. Want her. Images of him naked, touching her, filling her, raced through her mind before she could stop them. He’d ordered her drink. Her food. Would he be the type to order her around in bed? Take command of her body? He was so big. Strong. He could spread her open and work on her for hours. A frisson of heat uncoiled deep inside her. “Tell me about yourself. What do you do on the base?”
Falden watched Isabella take another drink of water, his eyes glued to her lower lip as it clung slightly to the glass before she set it down. His imagination went into overdrive thinking about what her mouth, her hands, her body would feel like as he took her. He wanted to kiss her. Touch her soft skin. Pound his hard shaft deep into her core again and again until she was begging for the release only he could give her. He wanted to hear her scream his name as he pushed her over the edge of control. Planted his hot seed deep in her belly. She was so much smaller than he was. He would have to make sure she was ready for someone of his massive size. Prepare her with his hands. His mouth. Without conscious thought he mirrored her actions, lifting the glass he’d been holding and taking a long, slow drink before answering her question. “Work.”
Isabella nodded as if his response didn’t make her want to throw something at him. His expression was unreadable. Only his eyes burned with inner fire. What was he thinking? He still hadn’t said the correct phrase. Was he toying with her, making her think the deal was still on while all along figuring out where to hide her body after he killed her? What was wrong with her, fantasizing about this guy? So he was hot. So he looked like he could make her every erotic fantasy come true. She only had to think of her ex to remember just how deceiving looks could be. She needed to stay focused. He was not making her job any easier with one syllable responses. Man of many words. Work. Ha. A real poet, this one. Sheesh.
Lifting her hand, she signaled the waiter with her empty glass that she’d like another. This was going to be a long, long night if he didn’t start talking. Hopefully he’d open up soon. She was a reporter. She knew how to get people talking, even the stubborn ones. And he’d obviously crashed her party for a reason.
She set her shoulders with renewed determination. She would get him to relax and open up while remaining emotionally detached herself, even if it killed her. Which it might.
Falden glanced down at the floor, at her tapping foot. “Those are very high heels.”
“Four-inch stilettos, as a matter of fact, and they perfectly match my dress.” They were her favorite—and sexiest—pair of shoes. Stretching out her leg to give him a better view, she