The Visitor: Alien Hunger Special Edition (12 page)

She was in no particular hurry. She
thought he would probably rest a lot better without her in the
apartment, so she finished her shopping in a fairly leisurely
manner and loaded up the car to head home, timing her arrival so
that she’d have just enough time to prepare the meal before he had
to leave.

The apartment was empty when she got
back. Dismayed, disbelieving, she searched it. Sure enough, the bed
was empty and the shower still dripping. “Damn it!” she exclaimed
angrily, flopping down on the edge of the bed. He was like a
phantom! Drifting in to arouse her from her dreams and then
vanishing with the light!

Sighing, she went out to haul the
damned groceries in and put them up. Spying the note she’d left him
still on the counter, she picked it up, wadded it, and tossed it
into the trash. It had no sooner landed than her brain assimilated
the image she’d glimpsed when she’d snatched it off the counter.
She dove for the trashcan and dug the note out again, smoothing
it.

I’m sorry as hell, baby. I
got called in early. Don’t lock me out. I’ll make it up to you. I
swear!

Sighing again, wondering if all she
was going to get anymore was hastily scribbled notes and somebody
to take up most of the bed while she was trying to sleep, she
tossed the note in the trash again and set about doing the chores
she’d put off to let him sleep.

At least he didn’t snore—not that
she’d noticed, anyway. Lawrence snored like a grizzly bear. She’d
gotten so used to tuning it out she thought that was probably why
Garryk hadn’t woke her up when he’d broken her security
chain—probably also why she hadn’t noticed whether he snored or
not.

The bathroom hamper, she discovered,
was full of his dirty laundry. She stared at the pile of clothes
irritably for several minutes and finally piled them in the basket
with hers, reflecting that it wasn’t going to take any longer to do
his than it would to do her own when she had to go to the
laundry-mat anyway.

She was thoroughly confused about the
entire situation, though. Every time she left the house and came
back, it seemed, she found a new item he’d left at her apartment.
Was he just so busy rushing around he had no idea where he left
things? Or was it his idea of moving in by stealth?

And, if he was moving in
with her inch by inch, how did she feel about having Garryk as a
roommate? It didn’t take long to figure that out—unhappy if it
didn’t include benefits—
very
unhappy if it meant he might be bringing dates
home!

She was just going to have
to get up on her hind legs and tell him that was completely
unacceptable! She didn’t mind helping him out if he needed it, but
he was
not
going
to install a revolving door on her damned apartment!

Chapter Seven

Chelsey didn’t even try to wait up for
Garryk that night. It was Saturday and she was sure he would be
performing at the club until all hours. And didn’t it just figure
that the moment she gave up, he decided to come early?

She’d barely settled in the bed when
she heard him at the front door. Sitting up, she listened intently
for a moment until she heard the door open and then lay back down,
debating whether to pretend she was asleep or not. She never
actually decided. He made so much noise coming in she began to
wonder if it was deliberate. Surely, even if she had gotten in the
habit of tuning out loud noises to sleep, nobody could sleep
through that?

He practically slammed the front door
and she could distinctly hear the locks as he set them. Then he
strode directly to the bedroom and dropped the heavy duffle bag he
was carrying just inside the door.

He flicked a look at her. “Did I wake
you?”

She stared back at him a moment,
trying to decide if he seemed angry and that explained his entrance
and finally shook her head.

His gaze moved over her face as if he
was trying to decide the same thing—if she was angry. “I need a
shower. I’ve still got oil all over me,” he said. He didn’t make
any move to head that way, though.

“
I got you some body-wash
and shampoo while I was at the store this morning,” Chelsey
volunteered finally.

He seemed to relax fractionally. He
even smiled faintly. “Thanks! The guys have been looking at me
funny for the last couple of days and I keep forgetting to go by my
place to pick mine up. I’ll give you the money.”

Chelsey shook her head, but he’d
already turned and headed into the bathroom. She lay staring into
the darkness, listening to the shower and trying to decide what to
make of what he’d said and the way he’d been acting. She really
didn’t think he was in the habit of making quite that much noise,
but he hadn’t seemed angry—maybe tense? Maybe he hadn’t been
certain the little note he’d left was enough to smooth things over
and had expected a confrontation?

So, either he knew her
better than she thought he did or she was more typical of women in
general than she’d thought she was—because she
had
been working herself up to a
confrontation, she realized. The only reason she’d decided to go to
bed instead of waiting up was because she’d been working just as
hard to talk herself out of making waves.

She was disappointed. She was also
confused and uncertain about the situation, wondering just where
she fit in to his life, but she didn’t want to do or say anything
she might regret—especially when he had a perfectly legitimate
reason for ‘ignoring’ her. He was working some outrageously long
hours, though, and as much as she wanted to believe anything he
told her, was that completely within the realms of possibility? Or
probability? She didn’t know a thing about entertaining. She
supposed he must have to work out to keep up that build, and maybe
he had to rehearse, and she knew they went out into the audience
afterwards to give lap dances for tips.

It still seemed like too many hours
for that kind of job.

As for taking her for granted—well, he
couldn’t do that if she didn’t let him—so if he did, that was as
much her fault as his.

The problem was, even if she hadn’t
been struggling to be reasonable, or wanted to fight just to get
her resentment off her chest, she didn’t feel confident enough in
his interest or detached enough about it to rock the boat. If she’d
felt either, or better yet, both, she wouldn’t have hesitated to
let him know he couldn’t just expect to pop in any time he pleased
and find her waiting for him.

He was still damp when he came out of
the bathroom and not wearing so much as a towel. Chelsey stared at
him as he strode around the bed and climbed in. He’d left the
bathroom light on and slightly ajar and the light spilling from the
room bathed him in all his glory in light and shadows as he settled
on his side, propping on one elbow.

“
Are you pissed off at
me?” he asked.

Chelsey thought it over and realized
she’d been angry because she was disappointed, again. She didn’t
think it would’ve upset her nearly as much if she hadn’t had her
hopes raised and dashed quite that many times. She sighed.
“Disappointed.”

He studied her warily, but some of the
tension eased from him. His lips twisted wryly. “Me, too, but it
comes with the job.”

Chelsey frowned. “They called you in
early at the club?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “My
other job. I work two.”

Chelsey gaped at him, dismayed, smote
by guilt that she’d thought awful things when he really was working
hard! She shifted toward him impulsively and lifted a hand to
caress his cheek. “No wonder you’re so exhausted all the
time!”

He lifted his free hand to cover hers
and then clasped it, bringing it down to kiss her palm. “Not all
the time. Some days are worse than others. I’m only working one
tomorrow so I have a half day off. I thought I’d take you
somewhere—make it up to you for neglecting you so much the last few
days.”

Conflicting emotions collided within
her—pleasure that he wanted to take her out; excitement at the
possibilities; uneasiness at the possibility that her ex or some of
his buddies might see them together; and guilt at the idea of
taking up his rest day. “You haven’t neglected me.” She’d felt
neglected, though!

He looked down at her hand, which he
was still holding, toying with her fingers. “Not intentionally,” he
murmured, lifting her hand to his lips again and nibbling at her
fingers.

Ignoring the butterflies that took
flight in her belly the moment he began nibbling at her fingers,
Chelsey studied his face worriedly, wondering why he had to work
two jobs. She’d been convinced he must make really good money
dancing. Either it wasn’t as good as she’d thought or he had
financial problems. She wanted to ask him, but it wasn’t polite to
pry. If he wanted to tell her, he would—and he probably wouldn’t,
she concluded. He’d always been guarded about his personal life.
She doubted he’d changed.

He lifted his head, studying her face,
and expelled a derisive breath. “Don’t look so worried, baby. I’m
not in trouble.”

“
I didn’t think you were,”
she said a little testily, “not like you think I think.”

His lips twitched. Settling the hand
he’d been holding against his chest, he curled his hand along the
side of her head and dragged her face close, tilting his head to
match his lips to hers. “How do you know what I think you think?”
he murmured teasingly, nipping at her lips with his own.

“
Well, I think I know what
you’re thinking, and if you’re thinking what I think you’re
thinking, then you’re wrong!” she whispered, smiling against his
lips.

He lifted away for a moment to meet
her gaze. “Baby, I always know what you’re thinking.”

“
Really? What am I
thinking now?”

He grinned abruptly. “You’re thinking
I’m taking way too long to get to the good stuff.”

She chuckled. “Maybe I’m thinking I’m
not really in the mood for the good stuff?”

He scanned her face. “I guess I’ll
just have to test it with my dip stick,” he murmured, slipping his
hand down the middle of her stomach and cupping her mound through
her night clothes.

She fell back against her pillow,
grinning when he grabbed a handful of her nightgown and jerked it
up to her waist. The smile faded as he slipped his hand beneath the
waist of her panties and cupped her mound again. Holding her gaze,
he slid a finger along her cleft and pressed it inside of her,
sawing slowly in and out. He tsked. “Looks like we’re about a half
quart low here.”

Chelsey uttered an amused snort. “I
don’t get that damned wet!”

He grinned. “You do when I make a
deposit.” Rolling over her abruptly, he lowered his head to nip at
her lips again. “We’re going to have to be mighty careful. The
pipes are so backed up, you’ll be lucky if I don’t blow your brains
out.”

“
Eew!”

He chuckled. “Just warning you, lady!
I’m locked and loaded.”

“
I guess we need to do
something about that then.”

His eyes lit. He came up on his knees
and dragged her upright. Grabbing her nightgown, he pulled it off
over her head and then grabbed her panties, tipping her onto her
back again as he ripped them off and tossed them. “I thought you’d
never ask!”

She sucked in a gasp as he dove over
her. He caught himself with his palms on either side of her and
then dropped to his elbows, pressing his chest against hers.
Matching his mouth to hers, he thrust his tongue between her lips
and raked it boldly, possessively along hers. It brought her to
stark awareness of every point where their bodies met. She could
feel the roughness of the hair on the thigh he’d wedged between
hers as he dragged it upward, pushing her legs wider, the heaviness
of his erection pressed against her belly. The light sprinkling of
hair along his belly and chest made her skin tingle and her nipples
stand erect as he rubbed restlessly against her. The muscles in his
arms flexed and stretched against hers with his movements, his
fingers tightening along her shoulders.

Trapped by the weight of his chest and
the band of his arms on either side of her, she could only lift her
hands high enough to grasp his waist to pull him closer but the
moment she did, he pressed his pelvis more tightly against her,
moving against her rhythmically for a moment before he broke from
her lips and leaned away.

She opened her eyes slowly when he did
and discovered he’d shifted his weight to one arm and was studying
her breasts. Self-consciousness pierced the bubble of warmth that
had risen in response to his kiss. Even as she lifted one arm to
cover herself, though, he caught her wrist. Meeting her gaze with a
commanding look, he held it for a moment and then pushed her arm
down and cupped the closest breast lightly, gently squeezing it and
then releasing it to stroke it with his fingers. He cupped it
again, catching the erect tip between his fingers, squeezing
lightly and then lifted his hand to catch her nipple between his
thumb and forefinger, rolling it.

Tingling sensation trickled through
her, joined the heat in her belly and made her womb contract.
Releasing that nipple, he stroked her other breast, caressed it
briefly and slid his hand down between her breasts, pausing for a
moment with his palm above her heart before he lightly stroked her
ribs and then her belly. His eyes narrowed as he smoothed his hand
over the small patch of hair at the apex of her thighs and parted
the lips of her sex with one finger. He paused, as if wrestling
with what he wanted to do and swallowed audibly. “You are more
beautiful than I imagined,” he murmured huskily, turning his head
to meet her gaze and then surging over her. “I didn’t think it was
possible.”