Free The Visitor: Alien Hunger Special Edition by Kaitlyn O'Connor Page A

around the waist when she got
back, pulling her down on his lap for a lingering kiss.
    Her head swam. She tried to put her
arms around his neck and stuck the container of cold sour cream to
his neck. He jumped and released her. “I think you just poured that
down my back,” he said ruefully.
    Embarrassed, Chelsey got off his lap,
dropped her load on the table and checked. “Just a little dribble,”
she murmured, licking it off on impulse.
    A shudder ran through him. “If you
don’t quit, you’re going to be eating cold steak,” he
growled.
    She was tempted, but she thought he
was probably hungry. She settled in the chair opposite him and
opened the bag of salad. It felt strange to share a meal with him,
but she discovered she liked it. It felt oddly comfortable
considering they were virtually strangers. She hardly thought the
teacher/student relationship they’d had years before counted and
she hadn’t seen him in years.
    She wondered abruptly where he’d been
all that time and what he’d been doing. Performing, no doubt—He was
too good not to be a complete professional—possibly moving from
town to town? She didn’t believe he’d been in the city. She felt
certain that she would’ve run into him at some point if he had
been.
    Despite the fact that she felt
comfortably relaxed on one level, though, he managed to keep her
pulse racing with the promises he made every time he flicked his
smoldering gaze over her. She certainly remembered that! If
possible, it was more potent now than it had been in the old days,
either because he’d perfected it over the years or because she now
knew it wasn’t just an empty promise.
    “ TV? Or straight to bed?”
he murmured when he’d helped her clean up.
    Chelsey felt her engines rev
immediately, despite the fact that she wasn’t sure if he was asking
to stay and join in her bed or not. She bit her lip. “I really need
to finish grading those papers.”
    He nodded. “You always were a stickler
for work before play,” he said with a grin. “I’ll take
half.”
    Chelsey glanced at him in
surprise.
    “ What? You think I ain’t
got no education, woman?” he demanded, just enough tightness in his
voice that she realized he was defensive about it even though he’d
made a pretense of teasing.
    She shook her head. “I was thinking
how boring you’ll find it.”
    He relaxed fractionally. “Not nearly
as boring as diddling myself while you finish.”
    Chelsey clapped a hand to her mouth
but uttered a snort of shocked amusement anyway. “You are so
bad!”
    He waggled his brows at her. “Yeah,
but I’m really good when I’m really bad.”
    She chuckled, moving to the couch
where she’d left the papers. “And so modest!”
    He shrugged. “Yeah, well, if I don’t
toot my own horn, who’s gonna?”
    “ I wouldn’t mind tooting
your horn,” Chelsey murmured, reddening when she flicked him a
smoldering glance and saw the shock on his face.
    He laughed abruptly, swooping down on
her and snatching her into a tight embrace. “Baby, you can play any
tune on my horn you like,” he murmured, laughter threading his
voice.
    “ Work first!” she reminded
him.
    “ Yes, ma’am!”
    They settled on opposite ends of the
couch, each with a stack of papers and a red pen. After watching
Garryk’s frown of concentration for a moment, Chelsey shrugged
inwardly. She could always glance back over them to be sure he’d
marked them right, but he’d been remarkably good in English, she
recalled—remarkable because the girls usually got the highest marks
and the boys the lowest and he’d been one of her best students
despite the fact that he seemed far more preoccupied with trying to
look up her skirt or down the neck of her blouse every time she
bent over than learning anything in print.
    He pinched her toe, dragging her from
her concentration on the papers after a few minutes. When she
looked down, she discovered he’d extended one long leg and caught
her toes with his.