My Crazy Hot Interstellar Affair

33. Woman Worried Spacesuit Makes Her Butt Look Big

The buzzing intensified, followed by a repeated slapping sound against the cabana's flimsy roof. After several heart-stopping moments, a metallic jellyfish tentacle poked through the straw. Andie's eyes turned to saucers as the tentacle swayed back and forth, only inches away.

Don't move. She silently entreated Oliver. Why couldn't he Vulcan mind meld her? Would have been terribly convenient at the moment. Luckily, despite the lack of telepathic communication, Oliver remained as quiet and gorgeous as a Greek god carved in marble.

Long seconds passed. Finally, the tentacle retracted. Andie allowed herself a shallow breath. Still, the buzzing continued. Long seconds turned to long minutes. Perhaps the drone was patiently waiting for them to starve to death.

It is only human nature that when a person is forced to remain quiet and motionless for what now felt like a thousand years; it is nearly impossible to do so. Itches develop in hard-to-reach areas. Muscles cramp and then prickle with pins and needles. The stomach performs a symphony of burbles, gurgles, and growls. And, inevitably, said individual will desperately want to have sex with her hot alien boyfriend, who seems to have no trouble controlling himself.

To distract herself from these maladies, Andie mentally calculated the square root of seven. She had made it to seventeen digits when Bad Andie screamed: "Enough!"

It took all Andie's control not to levitate into the air. "You are not helping."

Bad Andie inserted one of her endless mental images of Oliver into Andie's mind. Only this time, she was included in the tableau. They were in the gentle surf up to their waists, Oliver's arms around Andie's torso. Kissing. Not gently.

"Definitely not helping."

"I know what would help," Bad Andie said.

Oliver shifted beneath Andie, making her even more aware of his spicy scent. Her heart pounded, whether from Oliver's nearness or from impending doom, she didn't know. Perhaps both. He was utterly intoxicating. As if by an invisible force, she slowly lowered her mouth to his.

"I resent being called an invisible force," Bad Andie quipped.

Lower ...

"It's not as if you have a body."

"Sure. Rub it in."

Lower ...

His eyes crackled blue—boring into her. Pure energy and attraction. The electric feel of his hands exploring her back sent a delicious shock through her body.

Andie pressed her mouth to his. Oliver's full lips parted, allowing her tongue to explore. The dance of lips and tongues was all the more intimate and erotic in the need for silence. Her head spun. She was delirious with lust. Blue light sizzled off her skin and wrapped around Oliver. He held her tight, and, rolling over so he was now on top, he pressed her against the sand. Trapping her. Enveloping her in his cinnamon fog.

She couldn't move, even if she wanted to. His groin pressed firmly into a very sensitive region of her body.

Andie couldn't help pushing upward against Oliver's, uh, love rocket. His eyes smoldered with blue heat. She moved her mouth from his lips and ran kisses down the length of his jaw while a crackling blue light arced between them.

Something had to happen, because otherwise Andie would go insane from carnal deprivation. At this moment, she didn't care one whit about the stupid jellyfish drone. She pushed herself against Oliver in exactly the right place, resulting in a quick and jolting thrill of release. Andie buried her face in his neck to keep from crying out. Blue electricity erupted from their bodies like a solar flare, disintegrating the cabana and leaving them exposed on the beach.