Distant Desires: Part Two Read online

  “You’re more open, more vocal, certainly more clumsy and loud.”

  “Hey,” I warned, unable to produce any heat to go along with it. I simply couldn’t be mad.

  “Untamed.” He finished like he was thoroughly proud of that description.

  Untamed.

  I liked that.

  And really, didn’t it mean I didn’t always have to comb my hair? A girl could get onboard that kind of crazy train.

  His fingers delved into the short, wiry curls once more. “I like this,” he said, staring down at me intently. My body shuddered under his touch, even though there wasn’t really anything erotic to it, other than the place he was soo close to.

  I made a sound, acknowledging his words. Without meaning to, my hips rocked upward, giving him even greater access. His fingers slid down, one on each side of my clit, blazing a path down the sensitive skin around my opening. By the way his fingers glided, I knew I was still dripping wet and I hoped he realized it meant I was intensely enjoying his attention.

  His free hand splayed across my inner thigh, the hotness of his palm searing my skin, and I groaned. My body melted back against the leather of the sofa, and my eyes slipped closed. His fingers moved inward and I felt him pulling gently at my folds, almost like he was teasing them open.

  I squirmed a little, wanting even more.

  “This,” he said, flicking over my swollen clit, “is the area that drives you the most wild.”

  “Yes,” I whimpered as he languidly rolled it between his fingers.

  I felt the first sizzle of release. I was so far gone that I knew it wouldn’t take much, but before I could completely tumble over the peak, he pulled back. My eyes shot open with desperation and I lifted my head.

  The image of his dark head dipping between my creamy thighs was the last thing I saw before my vision went dark.

  He rendered me sightless.

  He likely rendered me deaf as well.

  It was as if he robbed my body of the majority of its senses and put all their power into his touch.

  His tongue tasted me tentatively at first, licking just a little, then pulling away. I wondered if he was sampling my flavor on his tongue before deciding if he liked it. As he pondered, one of his incredibly long fingers delved inside me, slipping right in, burying in the center of my body. He twisted his finger around, caressing my inner walls before curling his finger in a come hither motion and making my back arch with delight.

  And then his mouth was on me again, this time no kind of hesitation in his actions. His tongue was as long as the rest of him, and he used it incredibly well. He started down below my opening and licked up, like I was a melting ice cream cone on a summer day. Upward his tongue would drag, applying the perfect amount of pressure that made me writhe. When Tarek arrived at my clit, his lips closed around it, tugging the engorged flesh into his mouth and sucking gently.

  I felt my mouth open as my entire body went rigid. The orgasm was so intense my body bucked upward, but his arm was still there and he pinned me down as wave after wave of ecstasy obliterated me.

  When my body came down from its crest, Tarek didn’t lift his head. He turned it, pressing a moist, hot kiss to the inside of my thigh. Every part of my core throbbed, like aftershocks shaking the ground. It was almost like my clit had its own heartbeat and every time it pumped, tingles of pleasure would race over my skin.

  Tarek released the hold on my hips and pushed both hands between my knees, slipping up so he could cup my breasts through my shirt.

  My breathing was just returning to normal and every cell in my body was lethargic and satisfied.

  His hands didn’t linger on my chest, but instead moved downward to delve beneath the hem of my top. I thought he was angling for better access to my breasts.

  I was wrong.

  His large hands spanned my entire middle, almost as if he were cradling my stomach.

  Oh.

  Oh my.

  He was. He was cradling the child he placed there, the little being that was half him and half me. It was the most tender moment I’d ever experienced, and it was at the hands of a man who admittedly was raised not to feel.

  “Tarek,” I whispered, staring up at the softly lit ceiling.

  “Yes?”

  “We need to talk.”

  Up until just a little while ago, I was single, unattached, and had no plans to become a mother anytime soon. But now here I was, pregnant, still single… but maybe not so unattached.

  I had no idea what any of this meant. I barely had time to process it all. All I really knew was that my life was likely about to change completely.

  the dark

  I

  didn’t get many answers.

  Maybe he didn’t have them. Maybe he didn’t think I needed to know. Maybe the glimpse of the man with feelings had been fleeting and he really just didn’t care.

  I learned that Sapien pregnancy lasted eight months and not nine. I was already over a month along, so that meant in less than seven months, I was going be a mother. To a baby spawned by a man from another planet.

  I should expect to feel dehydrated, tired, and my appetite would likely change. But even as he said those things, he seemed doubtful. His doubt was the scariest thing of all. Up until now, Tarek was nothing but calm and self-assured. The thing was I was the first human to conceive a baby with a Sapien. Tarek could tell me what pregnancies were like on his planet, but since I wasn’t like him, it might not be the same.

  I asked more questions, the most important being what was going to happen to me. My questions went unanswered. Tarek had a canny ability to only answer what he wanted to and seemingly not hear what he didn’t.

  Before I knew what was happening, he was handing me another bottle of the water from his planet and preparing to usher me home.

  “I’m not ready to go,” I told him, feeling like I couldn’t possibly go back to my life as it was because everything was changed.

  He turned from the cabinet, two large clear jugs of water in each hand. Without a word, he walked to me, my eyes fastened to his face like it was the only thing in the room. Would I ever get use to the color of his eyes?

  He walked so close that I had to tilt back my head to hold his stare. I had an incredible urge to lay my cheek against his chest, to close my eyes and fall asleep against him. I searched his gaze, trying to look into him the way he did me. But Tarek was very good at shuttering his emotions, at keeping a door firmly latched between whatever went on inside him and what I was able to see.

  “Hold on to me,” he instructed. His voice was whisper soft and his enunciation of each word, the lyrical tone to his voice, caused me to sway against him.

  My cheek slid against his shoulder while my arms wound around his middle, linking together behind his back. The water bottle in my hand annoyed me because it meant less of me was able to touch him.

  He didn’t wind his arms around me. His hands were full with the jugs. He stood still, not leaning into me, not sighing like he enjoyed the touch. I didn’t care. I enjoyed it enough for both of us. My eyes fluttered closed as the sound of his beating heart filled my ear. It beat insistently, like he was running a marathon and should be out of breath.

  “Your heart is racing,” I mumbled, dipping my head lower and pressing my ear just a little bit closer.

  “My heart rate is much faster than yours,” he answered.

  Disappointment washed over me. Part of me was hoping it was just the effect I had on him.

  “Hold on tight,” he said.

  We began to move, to descend out of the hovercraft, the floor falling away as if it hadn’t been there at all. I didn’t feel the cool rush of night air. I didn’t feel frightened and alarmed like I was plummeting to my death.

  All I felt was Tarek.

  Even though I was the one holding on to him, I still felt safe. I knew he wouldn’t let me fall. It occurred to me I should open my eyes, take in the view below us.

  Keeping my cheek pr
essed against him, I lifted my lids.

  The familiar surroundings of my apartment were not what I expected to see. My gaze touched upon my furniture, the white walls, the magazines scattered across the coffee table.

  The solidness of the floor beneath my feet intruded upon the lightness I had felt. “We’re back,” I murmured, feeling a little sad. I wasn’t ready for him to go.

  Without thought, I snuggled into him a little closer, ducking my face into his robe and inhaling the scent that only he carried.

  He probably wanted me to let go now. He was probably about to order me away. A soft thud broke into my thoughts. Briefly, I thought to pull back to see what it was.

  Tarek’s long arms wrapped around me. He might not have wings, but I felt completed folded into him. Surprise washed over me, seeping into my bones just like the heat of his touch.

  He was holding me.

  It was the most human kind of contact we’d shared. It was almost as devastating as seeing him for the first time.

  He held me tightly, like I might float away, like holding me was the most serious thing he’d ever done. He kept me tucked thoroughly against him, and then his chin settled atop my head. He didn’t relax into the embrace, and it made me smile. He was nervous. He wasn’t sure if what he was doing was right, if he should be doing it at all.

  I made a little sound in the back of my throat, hoping to convey how right this was, and flexed my hand against his back, kneading my fingers into him.

  If possible, he stilled even more, and really, I think he held his breath.

  “I’m pretty sure you need to breathe,” I said, repeating the same thing he told me earlier.

  His chest expanded, pushing against me, causing little flutters of excitement in my belly. Tarek pulled away, picked up the water jugs beside us on the floor, and carried them into the kitchen as if he’d been in here a million times before.

  “The water will help with your thirst,” he said, coming back into the living room.

  I nodded. “When will I see you again?” I asked, knowing he was seconds away from leaving. I hated looking up at the night sky and not knowing if and when I’d see him again.

  “I’ll be back to get you when it’s time.”

  “Time?” I said, not understanding.

  “For the birth.”

  My eyes about popped right out of my head. “You mean you aren’t coming back?”

  “I just said I’d be back for the birth.” He stared at me curiously, like my reaction confused him.

  “So you implant a baby in me, hand me a couple of waters, and then tell me you’ll be back in seven months?”

  “My part is over,” he said simply.

  I laughed. “You’re an idiot.”

  He scowled, and damned if it wasn’t an awesome look for him. “Excuse me?”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “Just like a man,” I muttered. I pinned him with a stare. “Just because you donated sperm to my uterus does not mean your job is done.”

  “It is until the baby is born.”

  “For someone so intent on saving their race, you’re a lot less interested in this pregnancy than I thought,” I snapped. Weariness began to seep in around me and I glanced at the sofa longingly. “What will I say when I start showing? People will want to know who the father is.”

  “Don’t tell them,” he said casually, like it didn’t matter.

  “I don’t know how it works on Sapia, but here on Earth, when a woman is pregnant, she is usually in a relationship or married. My parents are going to flip.”

  “Flip?” he asked.

  “Be angry. I got pregnant and I don’t even have a boyfriend.”

  “Is it really that big of a deal?” he asked.

  “Of course!” I yelled. “Isn’t pregnancy a big deal where you live?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never seen a pregnant Sapien.”

  I lapsed into silence. We were from two completely different worlds. Trying to make him understand what it meant for me to be pregnant was like trying to speak Spanish to a Frenchman and expecting them to know what I was saying.

  “But I’m told that men were not involved in female pregnancy. They did their part and then the children were raised elsewhere,” Tarek said.

  “Your planet is seriously messed up.”

  “Messed up?”

  “Here, men and women are a team. They raise the baby together. They’re a family.” Well, for the most part. I wasn’t about to get into single parenthood, teen pregnancy, etc. This wasn’t an after school special, and frankly, it wasn’t the way I’d ever planned on bringing a child into this world.

  “Family.” Something about the way he said it made me look up.

  I nodded emphatically and my hand found my stomach. “Family,” I repeated.

  Emotion, real and stark, flashed over his features. And then it was gone. “I must go.”

  “Wait!” I said, rushing after him as he walked toward the open window.

  He stopped but didn’t turn.

  “I’m scared.” I admitted, the confession ripping from my throat.

  His shoulders tensed, telling me he heard. “Do not be afraid,” he replied after long minutes. “I will be back in seven months to get the child.”

  I blinked.

  He was gone.

  I raced to the window and sagged against the sill, staring up into the empty sky. The meaning behind his words penetrated my overwhelmed mind. He’d be back to get the child…

  I gasped.

  He planned to take away my baby.

  the normal

  I

  could feel his eyes on me.

  Even in the crowd, his stare was like a magnet to my ever-moving form. When I would step up to the bar to fill my tray with whatever order needed delivering, I expected him to ask me questions I just didn’t have answers for.

  Well, yeah, I had answers. Answers I didn’t want to give.

  For the most part, I’d done a good job avoiding Matt. I managed not to be alone with him and to sneak out after my shift at night when I knew he was too busy to follow me into the parking lot. He tried to call a couple times. I didn’t answer; I let it go to voicemail.

  I had several excuses ready to give, but he never asked me why I didn’t answer.

  I knew it wouldn’t be much longer until he gave up altogether. Matt wasn’t into the whole hard to get thing. He didn’t have to be. There were too many willing ladies in his sea for him to have to chase around a piece of bait.

  I tried to ignore the feeling of regret that burned the back of my throat when I told myself it wouldn’t be long until he forgot about me completely. Even though my life was a crap circus and starting anything with Matt was number one on the list of worst things I could ever do, I couldn’t help but feel sad. I couldn’t help but mourn the loss of someone I’d wanted for so long.

  Why couldn’t he have showed interest in me six months ago? Things were a lot easier back then.

  I stood at the bar longer than I intended, wallowing in the mess that was my life, giving him the perfect opportunity.

  “Have dinner with me,” he said, leaning over the counter to speak low.

  My eyes snapped up to meet Matt’s. His hair was perfect and his polo unlined.

  “Dinner?” I croaked, casually arranging the beers and single martini on the tray.

  “You can’t avoid me forever. We need to talk,” he said, still leaning over the bar top.

  “I’m not avoiding you.” I lied.

  “I know, Sophie,” Matt replied. He didn’t mean he knew I was lying. His tone suggested he knew something else, something bigger.

  Panic chewed its way through my stomach and seeped out into the rest of me, causing the muscles in the back of my neck to tighten. He knew? How could he possibly know I was pregnant? I hadn’t told a single soul.

  I resisted the urge to look down at my middle, wondering if today was the day someone noticed my clothes were getting too tight.

  “Y
ou do?” I whispered, leaning a bit closer.

  He nodded. “We need to talk.” Matt reached down and picked up a couple empty beer glasses and began washing them beneath the counter. Even as he worked, his eyes remained fastened on me.

  “I—”

  He interrupted me. “Dinner. Tonight. After work. On the deck.”

  The deck was a large, open, screened-in structure on the side of the bar. There were at least fifteen tables out there that me and the other waitresses took turns waiting on.

  “I’m really tired,” I said, relieved it wasn’t another lie. I was tired, constantly.

  “How long did you think you could keep it from me?” Matt asked.

  A lot longer than I did, I thought. How was I going to explain this? What if he told other people? He couldn’t! I wasn’t ready for that. “Okay.” I relented. “Dinner.”

  I spent the rest of my shift trying to come up with some sort of explanation for my current condition. I was afraid of the look I would see in his eyes when I sat down, the look of disappointment—the look of pity.

  Because it wasn’t a weekend night, the bar cleared out early. Usually this would thrill me, but I dreaded the conversation about to come. I also sort of dreaded the closing of the door between Matt and me. He wasn’t going to want me now that I was pregnant with another man’s child.

  Nerves gathered in my stomach when the last waitress cashed out and stepped out the bar door. Matt was behind the bar on the other end of the room, finishing his closing routine, and I took the moment to stare at him openly.

  He really was good-looking. Nearly ideal, just like a Ken doll, but he lacked the whole “fake” aspect of that look. He didn’t appear to try and look the way he did. It was effortless. He wasn’t overly muscular, but his body was undeniably defined. His hair was combed and styled but didn’t give the impression that he spent hours trying to style it (which of course brought my mind right to Tarek and his perfect boy band hair). I knew beneath the white polo, Matt sported various tattoos, some that he himself designed.

  I knew his motorcycle sat out in the lot, waiting for him to rev the engine and pull out onto the street—a complete oxymoron as he glided over the pavement through the night.