Of course, helping him to look normal didn't help to keep eyes off of him. His amazing height and size couldn't be disguised. But at least he didn't look like a rock star now, though Brittany cracked up when the seamstress who'd supplied the new clothes hadn't wanted payment for them, but had blushingly asked for a picture of Dalden instead. She figured if he wasn't a celebrity now, he would be one day, and she wanted proof that she'd sewn for him.
Night was approaching by the time they left the mall. Her first day working for Dalden had been pretty successful. Even though Jorran hadn't been found yet, three of his people had been rounded up and sent off to Martha for interrogation. With night just around the corner, her job was over for the day. And as much as she hated the thought of losing his company even for a little while, she supposed she ought to offer to get him back to his own lodgings.
So as she was driving out of the mall parking lot, she remarked, "I know you said you couldn't get to your hotel yesterday for some reason, but you implied you could today. Shall I drop you off?"
"My place is now with you."
She spared him a glance. "You want to sleep on my couch again?"
He smiled at her. "What we sleep on may be of your choosing."
The chair and laying there in his arms all night again flashed through her mind and brought on a blush, even though he was probably using the "we" in a singular sense, rather than meaning
him and her together.
But if he was going to spend the night again, she'd have to feed him, and she really didn't feel like a trip to the grocery with him in tow. Besides, she could picture shopping carts banging into each other in the aisles, cans and boxes spilling all over the place, if he walked into the local food store.
With quite a few hours before bedtime ahead of them, and.' since they didn't have to get up as early tomorrow as she was accustomed to, she suggested, "Want to go out to dinner? Catch a movie? Go dancing maybe?" Then she grinned. "You know, a date?"
"Dancing?"
She rolled her eyes at him. "Why are you looking like that´s, another new word to you?"
Martha, quiet since they'd left City Hall, decided to explain,
"There's no equivalent for it on Sha‑Ka'an. It's a form of exercise that requires music, but music hasn't been embraced yet by the Sha‑Ka'ani."
"No television, no music, but he's familiar with computers. Do you realize how bizarre that is?"
"Do you realize how diverse this world is in cultures?" Martha shot back.
Brittany sighed, allowing the point. "All right, dinner first, then we'll play it by ear. And since we're not exactly dressed for fine dining, how about a pizza? Or two." She chuckled, giving him another glance. "Or three."
"What is‑?"
"Food! just plain old Amer‑well, it's an Italian dish, but I hear we've Americanized it so much, the original tastes nothing like what we serve up here. And there's a nice little parlor on the next block."
The pizza parlor was surprisingly crowded for that early in the evening, or for anytime, actually, considering it offered delivery service, which most people took advantage of. The crowd consisted of a children's soccer team celebrating a victory with a lot of the parents in tow. Which meant service was slow and they ended up being there for a couple of hours, rather than in and quickly Out as was usually the case.
Dalden flipped out over the pizza, which made the wait well worth it. But then Martha got interested in the ingredients for making it, which resulted in a long and detailed discussion, because she didn't just want to know the shopping list required, she wanted to know the process for making the ingredients from scratch. Raised on a farm, Brittany was able to answer most of her questions.
And then there were the interruptions, which she was getting used to by now. Dalden got asked for his autograph again, and two men stopped by wanting to know what team he played for. Brittany was amused that she wasn't the only one who immediately assumed he would be a basketball player. And she didn't know how it happened, but she came back from the bathroom at one point to find the entire soccer team piled up on his shoulders for a group picture with the "giant."
He seemed to be enjoying himself, and three large pizzas later, it was actually late enough to hit Seaview's one nightclub. Ordinarily she wouldn't have considered going dancing on a weeknight but since Dalden had no experience of dancing at all, she wanted to find out if it was something else he might enjoy.
The weekend would have been a better time for it, when the nightclub was hopping, but she had a feeling he'd be gone by the time the weekend rolled in again. They had made a lot of progress today, and Jorran's people had as well, supposedly, so the wanna‑be mayor could well make his appearance tomorrow. Then Dalden would take control of him with that rod as easily as he had his lackeys, and he'd have no further reason to stick around. Task done, he'd be going home‑and Brittany refused to think of how much she was going to miss him.
She'd foolishly let herself get too attached too quickly. She still barely knew anything about him, yet even that didn't matter. It was going to be heartbreak, big‑time.
She'd already been assured that she wouldn't be opposed to his factions, which left nothing else that she could think of that she might find objectionable about him. Martha seemed to think otherwise, that their cultural differences couldn't be bridged. But what did culture have to do with feelings, especially when her every instinct was telling her that he was the man of her dreams, her ideal mate? Even the fact that he might be younger than her had no relevance. Nothing mattered compared to the emotions he stirred in her.
So tonight was for fun, and for memories. But the thin crowd in the club was daunting. Only four other couples were there, and only one of them seemed inclined to dance. And contrary to Tom's snide remark today, Brittany wasn't an exhibitionist. So it took three and a half drinks before she was ready to get out on that
nearly empty dance floor.
Dalden was fascinated with the place. The lighting was old‑style
disco, the music was typically blaring, and the one couple who pretty much stayed out on the floor were giving him a decent how‑to demonstration. Martha continued to call it exercise, and an obsolete form of it banned in many places. Brittany would have asked for a definition of "banned" if she wouldn't have had to shout it, because their "banned" had to be something other than not allowed."
"Are you ready to try it?" she finally asked him.
I will try anything with you, kerima."
She was just tipsy enough to be really moved by how sweet that answer was. She gave him her hand, and led him out on the floor. A fast song was playing, not a hopping beat, but a steady tempo that could accommodate just about any style. She danced the way she'd learned to in high school, a bit on the sexy side, but the only way she was familiar with. He seemed to be swinging some kind of invisible weapon himself, his movements precise, and she almost laughed when she realized he wasn't dancing, he was doing exactly what Martha had called it, exercising. They were still having fun, and his eyes, which he never took off of her, said he was enjoying watching her dance more than anything else.
And then the music segued into a slow song, the first one played since they'd arrived. Dalden hadn't seen slow dancing yet; she had to show him how. He took the closeness a step further, though, and within moments, he was kissing her instead. And that quickly was she taken out of place and time, just like that afternoon, every
thing around her fading to nothing. All that was left was the man and his touch, consuming her.
"Martha, please!"
Brittany seemed to hear it from a distance, his voice. She didn't know what he was asking for, but it didn't stop what he was doing for more than a second. She was still being kissed, still being held so closely she could feel all of him. There was a tingling that had nothing to do with the drinks she'd consumed. And then there was softness under her, and a very big man above her, and it simply didn't dawn on her yet that she was in a bed with him, or to wonde
r how she got there.
Chapter Twenty‑one
BRITTANY HAD BEGUN THE EVENING WANTING TO STORE up memories, because she was certain that was all she would have left of Dalden soon. She hadn't thought of lovemaking as an added possibility, but what better memory to retain of him than one of the most profound intimacy?
It was no longer a matter of her wanting some kind of commitment from him first, or needing to know him better. That previous reasoning seemed very old now, in the matter of importance. Her feelings had taken a big step forward even from just yesterday, yet despite that, there was the simple fact that she wanted him, and could no longer think of a logical reason to deny that need.
There was some small confusion left, that the matter was already at hand, that they were in her bed, in her apartment, and already deeply involved in the mating ritual. She simply couldn't remember how they had gotten there, when her last memory of them was on the dance floor in that nightclub.
She was forced to assume that her drinks had gotten double shots without her knowing and the result had snuck up on her without warning. She'd heard of bartenders doing that, a male helping‑a‑male‑score type of thing they ought to be shot for. And although she was sobering up quickly now, she must have been quite bombed to have gotten them home without remembering it. Incredible as that was, there was simply no other explanation for it.
Her clothes were gone. She did recall them being stripped away with amazing speed. His were as well. And Dalden naked was a marvel to behold.
She didn't think it was possible for a man to fit her ideal specifications, yet Dalden did in every way imaginable. She hadn't thought it was possible for her to ever feel small, either, but laying next to him, she felt that, too. He was just so big, every part of him, so much power and strength on visual display. A normal‑sized woman might have been scared senseless by it, but Brittany was delighted instead.
That urgent desperation she'd heard in his voice earlier was only slightly modified now. It was still there, the strength of his passion unleashed, but that didn't frighten her, either, because he seemed to have absolute control of it, now that he had her where he wanted her: naked, clasped to him, her body his to possess.
And explore. He did that. He molded her, moved her this way and that, positioned her exactly to his preference, and explored every inch of her with his hands, his mouth, his golden eyes.
One of them had turned the light on in her room and left it on. She should have experienced some embarrassment because of it, but there was none at all, probably because she was too busy being fascinated by his body. She did feel almost dominated, but even that was all right, because she knew she could have control back if she chose to. She didn't. It wasn't as if she was confident yet in making love, having never done so before. So his guidance, or command of what they were doing, was welcome and left her more open to just feelings, and those were numerous and intense.
She was thrilled to a level hard to contain. What he was making her feel was exciting. That she was finally going to "do it" was exciting. That it was with him was exciting. It was a spiral upward, senses heightened, each new sensation a step closer to the pinnacle ...
And then she remembered Martha, with her prying ears and six‑sided viewers, and panicked, thinking they weren't alone. "Where is it? Martha's box?" There was no answer, at least not from Martha. "She's gone?"
"She would not intrude here."
That didn't mean she was gone, but it was good enough. At least the panic subsided, only to be replaced soon after with a different form. He had mounted her, was about to breach her. She scrunched her eyes closed, tensed to the max, but assured him, or rather herself, "I'm in good shape, I'm ready for this, go for it."
He stared at her tightly closed eyes. A bass rumble of laughter came out of him.
"You are in no way ready, kerima. You have not done this before?"
Brittany opened her eyes just a crack so she could squint up at him. "If I had, do you really think I would have put you off yesterday?"
He seemed so very pleased by her answer that she was immensely glad that she'd been able to say that. She'd waited a long time for the right man to come along, and he was the right man. Instinct told her that even if circumstances didn't, and even though Martha seemed to think there was no chance of their different cultures mixing. None of which mattered. This was something she had to do for herself. If she only had some hope that this wasn't going to be a onetime thing, it would be perfect.
That moment of sadness made her wrap her arms around his neck and squeeze. "Make me believe in happy endings, Dalden, even if we're not going to have one. Tell me this won't be the only time we love each other."
He leaned back so he could look into her eyes. "I cannot fathom your confusion. You are my lifemate. And until I have you in a place familiar to me, where I can be assured of not losing you, you will not be parted from me. Is this the assurance you need?"
Relief flowed out of her, made her glow with happiness. "Was it ever."
He smiled at her, kissed her cheek gently, nuzzled her neck. He was restraining himself now, for her, because she had interrupted her state of readiness with her worries. He was apparently willing to start over, which filled her with such a wealth of gratitude and warmth that her feelings for him escalated yet again.
His own state of need hadn't lessened. Hers was brought back to match his with amazing speed. Not that he rushed her; she just wanted this to happen so much, her body was cooperating perfectly with her mind. And it didn't even hurt that much. She probably had the liquor to thank for that‑or Dalden's restraint and expertise. He entered her so slowly, so very carefully, distracting her with his kisses, that by the time she felt the uncomfortable pressure of him pushing against the virginal blockage, it popped open, causing no more than a minor gasp of surprise.
He went no further than that, though. He was practicing that amazing restraint of his again. Unbelievable, the control he had over his emotions and his body. It wasn't normal. It wasn't necessary, either, when her own heightened senses were clamoring for more of him.
Without words she tried to tell him, grasping his backside with both hands, trying to push him forward into her. That didn't work, of course. She couldn't budge him if he didn't want to be budged. She felt a moment of resentment, that he could so easily move her body exactly as he wanted, but she couldn't do the same with his. It didn't last, though, because he was smiling down at her, amused by her efforts, but obviously pleased, too.
He kissed her gently, then caught her gasp in his mouth as he slid the rest of the way into her. It was exquisite, more thrilling than she could ever have imagined, having him so deep inside her. And his restraint was still in full force‑no swift pummeling, now that he could, but a slow, exacting ritual.
He was letting her experience every aspect of his taking possession of her. She couldn't complain, not when the pleasure was immediately there and gradually increased, so that she could enjoy it longer‑or would have, if her body didn't like what was happening too much!
There was no delaying her climax when it came; it washed over her in powerful waves, the pinnacle of sensations so intense she nearly fainted. He joined her in that, prolonging that unique pleasure, until it really was too much ecstasy all at once.
She awoke sometime in the middle of the night. She was wrapped around Dalden, covering him like a blanket. She tried to move, to turn off the light that was still on, but his arm tightened around her, refusing to let her leave his side even in sleep. She smiled and put her cheek to his chest again. He made a lumpy mattress, a hard pillow, but that was okay. Her contentment couldn't be measured in comfort.
Chapter Twenty‑two
BRITT, YOU AWAKE YET?" JAN CALLED FROM THE Living-room. You've got company."
Brittany knew she had company. She opened her eyes to see that her company was still sleeping, his feet hanging over the end of her bed quite a bit. It was an extra‑length model and fit her just fine, but they really did
n't make beds for seven‑footers.
"Britt?" It was shouted this time.
Okay, so she wasn't quite awake yet, or she would have realized Jan wasn't talking about Dalden, that her friend likely didn't know yet that he'd spent the night.
"Conning!" she shouted back.
She leapt out of bed, yanked her bulky white terry robe out of the closet, wrapped it on, and stepped out into the living room. She vaguely heard Dalden stirring behind her, but didn't dare look back at him, or she'd be really rude to whoever was there and simply tell them to get lost. She had a mind to anyway, up until she got a look at the man standing just inside their front door.
Jan was staring at him as if she were starving and he was six feet of chocolate cake. Brittany couldn't blame her. The man was unbelievably handsome; actually, way, way too handsome. She'd never seen anyone who looked that perfect, like he was created to someone's ideal specifications. He even fit her own specifications, was at least as tall as her if not taller. She wasn't sure she wanted to get close enough to see if he might top her by a few inches, when she was still doubting her eyes. He was even more handsome than Dalden, if that was possible, though in a different way, less masculine‑beautiful was the word that came to mind.
He wore a one‑piece jumpsuit that looked like some kind of uniform. His eyes were so green that the color was clear even from across the room. His hair was coal black, cut short, though not excessively short. And he carried some sort of large plastic container that Brittany did a double‑take on when she realized it was filled with groceries.
She finally asked, "You sure you have the right apartment?''