She lifts up on her elbow and stares at me. “Carl Sagan?”

I smirk at the surprise in her tone. “Not just a jock, Giselle. I read, mostly on the road.”

She blows at a piece of hair in her face and plops back down. “Devon Walsh, squashing stereotypes one quote at a time.”

“I don’t think we’re alone in the universe. We’re just a speck, simple humans walking a life unaware.”

She laughs, a hint of bemusement there.

“What?” I ask. “You don’t agree?”

“Oh, I agree. Not everyone believes in aliens.” She sighs. ‘“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is only bearable with love.’ Sagan again.”

Love? I arch a brow. Not touching that quote with a ten-foot pole.

“Tell me . . . these alternate universes you mentioned—where are we right now?”

“I love that you’re curious about my theories.” Then . . . she presses a light kiss to my shoulder—nothing sexy, for fuck’s sake—but heat licks me from head to toe. Ah hell, keep your face blank, asshole, and your dick better chill out.

I clear my throat and ease an inch away. “Come on. What are we doing in this universe? Don’t make me a teenage girl.”

“You might not like it . . .” Her voice trails off.

“If I’m some ugly insect or demon, yeah, I may not, but help a guy out. I need a story to put me to bed.”

She laughs under her breath. “Are you sure?” Then: “Ohhhh, a demon universe—”

“Focus, woman. Hit me with your best one.”

“Fine. You’re a seven-foot purple-colored alien from Sector 4, the Triangulum Galaxy, 2.7 million light-years from Earth—”

“Is that a real place? Why am I purple?”

“Yes, it’s real, and purple is your favorite color.”

“How do you know?”

“I just imagined it’s your favorite color. Is it?”

“Let’s say it’s purple or blue.” I grin. We’re not looking at each other, both of us staring up at the stars. “So as an alien, do I look like a man?”

“You have a humanoid form, yes, much like now—broad shoulders and long sleek black hair. Your prehensile tail is four feet long with a pointed end, and you use it as a whip when you fight. Your skin is made up of scales—”

“What the fuck?”

“Your scales are very small and shimmer when you’re excited. They’re very soft and warm.”

“Sounds prissy.” I’m enraptured, hanging on every word.

“Nothing girlie about you. Muscles abound. You’re a virile, alpha alien—”

“But I have a tail.” My voice is dry. “So this alien is a demon.”

She huffs. “Fine. I’ll take away the tail, but you could have used it for . . . pleasurable . . . activities . . .”

My dick twitches. “Like what?”

“Nope. You don’t want it, so it’s gone.”

“Please continue.”

“I’m trying!” She pokes me in the side. “You stalk around in a loincloth—rather strange since your world is so advanced—with metal gauntlets on your wrists. You keep an amethyst stone on a necklace around your neck. It belonged to someone important who passed away. You’re a mercenary sent to Earth to procure a woman for your king. You find me, er, her in Los Angeles. She’s a twentysomething scientist with a D cup. Her name is Kate, and she has blue hair.” She pauses. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“You said D cup. I’m riveted.”

She sighs. “Twenty days into the yearlong journey to your home planet, your cloaking goes on the fritz, and the ship is attacked by your enemies. You release her to protect her from being taken, and you and Kate fight them. A tentative friendship is born after you defeat them. She also knows how to fix your cloaking issue. You teach her your language but force her into the antigravity chamber every sleep cycle. Big alien jerk. You’ve taken an oath to hand her over untouched, yet one night, you sleepwalk to my, um, Kate’s cage, let her out, and forget your oath about keeping her pure—”

“Giselle,” I say, my voice low and husky, images flitting through my head. “Is this about to get dirty?”

“It’s my story, actually. I’m writing it.”

Oh.

“That’s amazing. You’re . . .” So fucking hot . . . “Obviously not only smart but, um, creative.” I pause, inhaling a breath. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about the sex part.”

“You asked. I responded.” Her voice lowers. “I want to lose my virginity before I turn twenty-four, Dev.”

I start. “When’s your birthday?” I ask a few beats later, battling to keep myself from pouncing on her. Hands off the innocent girl. Hands off the innocent girl. Jack will kill you.

“Sunday. Mike Millington’s going to be there.”

“And he is . . . ?”

“My tween crush who’s recently divorced. He’s probably bald with a beer belly.” A long sigh comes from her. “If he’s kind and there’s something there, I don’t know, maybe . . .”

My chest rises, and I’m racking my brain to come up with a reply, but my head is going haywire and wants to say, Well, if you want to get rid of it that bad, then what the hell is wrong with the man you’re in bed with—

A whine comes from the open door.

Pookie runs to Giselle’s side of the bed, and Giselle gets up to scoop her up, climbs back in the bed, and flips over to her side, away from me, as she settles the dog under the covers.

“Good night, Dev,” she murmurs. “Thank you for letting me sleep with you. Just this once. You’re the best.”

Yeah, the best. Right.

I mutter out a reply, heave out a breath, and turn over to face the wall.

Chapter 7

DEVON

When I come out of my room at seven, Giselle is sitting on a stool at the island with her back to me, laptop open, earphones on her head as she types like a maniac.

It’s weird coming out to someone in my domain. Usually girls are gone before the sun comes up—not because I’m a shitty host, but because they don’t feel the need to linger. The light of day isn’t pretty after casual sex.

She balances precariously on the seat as she reaches up to grab a pen, another one of my old shirts riding up. She must have tied it in a knot at the front. Her frayed shorts are on her ass, snug and dipping down far enough that I can see the waistband of a pink thong. I take in a familiar image at the base of her spine.

“Why do you have half a butterfly on your back?” I ask, sliding up next to her so I don’t freak her out.

She turns and smiles and takes the earphones off. “Morning, sunshine! Let’s kick today’s ass. You with me?”

I wince. “God, you’re one of those.”

She throws her arms around me for a quick hug, gets off the stool, and dances away to the stove. “I’ve never needed much sleep. Up at six, and I made you breakfast. Banana-nut muffins. I found the mix in the pantry, so I figured you liked them.” She takes in my track pants and workout shirt.