Her body seized his, pulling him home. Fire seemed to leap from his fingertips, the lips he had pressed to the curve of her neck, his shaft buried deep inside her. It was as if the moon itself coalesced around them, bathing them in an opalescent nimbus of every color and none.
Vibrating with need, he emptied himself into her.
Minutes passed.
Eons.
When at last he could drag the potent night air into his lungs and feel the weathered wood beneath his feet, he realized if his balance shifted one iota, he and the equally limp woman in his arms might well collapse in a heap. Or tip over the railing.
When she began to shake, he decided he would have to find out which or the suddenly cheerful breeze would give her pneumonia. But when he tried to slip out of her, she whimpered in protest and tightened her legs around his waist.
“We’ve got to move,” he croaked, somewhere in the vicinity of her ear. He tried again, manfully, to back them both away from the rail. “Help me, sweetheart.”
Tilting back far enough to see her face, he realized she was blinking, her gaze unfocused. A tremor raced down his spine. The sensations he’d felt had been real. In the heat of lovemaking, he’d inadvertently surged.
He’d blinded her.
Fear gave him strength. He lifted her off the railing and carried her to the shelter, dropping to shaky knees and cushioning her as he collapsed them both on the quilt. When she finally peeled herself from around him, he took her face into his hands.
“Hannah, can you see? Please say you can see me.”
She blinked owlishly and gave him a smile which sent his heart back up from his toes.
“I saw stars. Fireworks. Like in the movies. There’s a blue spot right in the middle of your nose, but otherwise, you look better than—”
He silenced her with a kiss, pouring in all of his gratitude for whatever guardian spirit looked after careless Olam.
When he released her, she simply stared. “Guess it was good for you, too, huh?”
Knowing his grin was silly with relief, he tucked her next to his side and pulled up the free edge of the quilt to cover them both. His human body had never felt so replete. His eyes drifted closed.
Her breath tickled the hairs on his chest. “Gideon?”
“Hmm?”
“That was. . .I mean, I haven’t. . .”
With valiant effort, he took care of her problem in the most expedient way. As he lifted his mouth from hers, he said, “Me, too.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” he said firmly, and realized with no small surprise that he meant it. He’d slept with more women than he could remember and he’d never, not once, come close to the experience he’d just had.
She snuggled her head under his chin. He’d nearly drifted off to sleep when her voice vibrated against his chest.
“Do you believe him?”
“Hmm?” With something akin to amusement, he thought of Joshua and his talk of lifemates. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone else, now that he’d experienced Hannah Morgan. His mentor wasn’t going to like that.
“Gideon, are you asleep?”
He forced open his eyes. “Of course not, sweetheart. What did you say?”
The fingers drumming his chest were kind of cute. “Do you believe aliens are really out there?”
“If so, they just got an eye-full.” A sizable hunk of his chest hair was yanked and he hastily stilled her hand with his own. “Yes. Yes I do.”
“So you think my father was kidnapped by aliens.”
He thought of what he’d learned since he’d met Hannah. “It’s entirely possible.”
Even though there’s no scientific evidence? You’re that sure?”
“You heard Mrs. Sherwin.” Rubbing his thumb lazily across her palm, he heard her breath catch, and decided that, despite the unsettling topic she wanted to discuss, there couldn’t be a better moment than this.
“I recognize the aliens she described. If they’ve been taking her all of these years, it stands to reason they took others.”
She pulled her hand free as she braced against his chest to look up at him. Her expression was triumphant. "I knew it! You think you were kidnapped by aliens, too.”
He choked back a laugh. “No.” Cupping the back of her neck in one hand, he rubbed the soft, damp skin until she relaxed against his chest again. “I’m not some interview subject you need to worry about. Believe me, I’ve never been taken by aliens, never been abused, never had anything truly bad happen to me.”
“Uh-huh,” she murmured, sounding unconvinced. “Nothing except losing your parents.”
He left off rubbing her neck to work his fingers down the pressure points on either side of her spine. “Except for that,” he agreed amicably. “Which happened before I was old enough to remember. But that’s not what makes me different. I’m not like anyone you’ve ever met, Hannah.”
He thought he heard a muffled “I’ll say” but he wasn’t sure. The skin of her back was so soft, so smooth, he stopped massaging to run his hand up and down the perfect curve. “Have you ever thought about what non-human intelligent life might look like?”
“Skinny and gray,” she responded sleepily.
“Yes, but what about fat and green? Or maybe blue? Or perhaps some aliens might look a lot like you do, if their world is similar to Earth.”
“Mmm.”
“Or perhaps,” he added, choosing his words carefully, “some don’t look like anything you would consider a person, because they don’t occupy space the same way you do. Maybe when they want to visit, they change to look just like you. Have you ever thought about that?”
He took her silence as confirmation that no, the thought hadn’t occurred to her but at least it wasn’t scaring her to death. He gave her silky back another long, soothing caress. “There are many different kinds of beings in the universe. Not all of them are like the ones who contacted Mrs. Sherwin or your father. Some have been living on Earth for a long time, loving this planet as much as if they were Earthers themselves. Right now, one of those aliens is risking his own life to make sure that Earth stays free.”
He paused. This is it. “I’m that alien, Hannah.”
He held his breath. Silence. She was numb with shock. She was paralyzed with fear. She was . . .
A soft, feminine snore broke the silence.
The smart, sexy woman he’d chosen was sound asleep.
