Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Instead of making her relieved, she just shakes her head. "Not to burst your bubble, but every man literally thinks he's a god in the sack and it's frankly not true. Just promise me that if I'm not thrilled with the situation we won't ever speak of it again."
I arch a brow at her, amused. "Very well, the same goes for me. If I find you lacking, I do not want you crawling after me and begging for my cock."
Maeve pauses in her pacing and stares at me. Then she barks a laugh. "You're safe on that. No worries." She resumes her pacing, her hands clasped behind her back as she thinks. "I guess we can get started tonight. Shower up, do some grooming—I haven't shaved my legs in years, you know—and we can do things after dinner."
"Wait." I hold up a hand to silence her. "What are you shaving?"
"My legs. Under my arms. Between my legs if you want—"
Now I put my second hand into the air. "Shave nothing. If you have any sort of fur, even the slightest amount, I will enjoy it much more than any sort of rough stubble."
Her brows go up. "This might be the first time I've never shaved my legs to get laid, but all right." She runs her hands over her face and then stares at me. "Okay, wow, we're doing this."
She is making it seem as if it is a big deal. It does not have to be, but something tells me she will not appreciate me pointing this out. Perhaps this is a human attachment of some kind, to associate sex with deeper meaning. "I will leave it in your hands. You can tell me when and where, and it shall be as you like."
CHAPTER
FIFTY-TWO
MAEVE
The ball's back in my court.
Part of me kind of hates that we're being so very logical and polite about this. That we're saying please and thank you and discussing the logistics of sex like two rational adults. I'm used to sex being this impulsive, wild thing, where you tackle your date at the end of the night and decide to fling caution to the wind. It's not blood tests and “do we have enough plas” and “should we put a towel down on the bed” sorts of conversations when we haven't even so much as kissed yet.
It all feels really complicated and I want to back off and change my mind.
But then I think about how long it's been since I've had sex and the craving hits me. Ugh. Am I that much of a needy creature that I'm going to fuck Zhur just to get laid? What if it screws up everything between us? We're just now figuring out how to be around each other without wanting to murder one another. I'm enjoying having company around, having someone to talk to, having someone there when I look over.
There's nothing quite so isolating as feeling like the last human left in the galaxy, like when I was first snatched from Earth. I didn't know where I was or who had taken me, and I knew there'd be no getting back home.
But I'm here now. I'm on Risda III, safe, with cattle and a patch of farmland to call my own. I have friends, and there are other humans living nearby. I'm making a big deal out of nothing.
We can just fuck and be done with it. Or...not.
Ugh, why am I like this?
"Maeve?" Zhur calls from the bathroom, the sound of the shower cutting off. "Maeve?"
"Coming." I head over to the door and knock. "What is it?"
"Come inside and tell me if my color is fading. There is a great deal of orange washing down the drain."
Right, because the man doesn't have a modest bone in his body and I should come and judge his hair while he's stark naked. I realize we're about to get intimate—maybe even tonight—but our timeline feels all wrong. Isn't it later in the relationship that we get to the "can you look at this mole on my back" levels? We haven't even hit first base yet.
Then again, what about our relationship has been normal? I bite my lip to keep from laughing at that realization and open the bathroom door.
Zhur is standing under the stream of water, a frown of displeasure on his face. The shower makes the wet fur stick to his face and neck, outlining just how very different our facial structures are. It also makes his shoulders look absolutely enormous, and when he turns to look at me, I'm very aware of his size in comparison to mine. Even his waist, trim though it is, is nothing but slabs of hard muscle, each one probably double the size of any equivalent human muscles. And below the waist—
"Well?" he says.