Taken by the Alien Next Door (Aliens Among Us #1) - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,6
had been bent. Crouching, he grasped the misshapen box in both hands and lifted it from the ground.
The mailbox door fell open, snapped off its hinge, and clattered on the driveway. The red plastic flag on the side dangled limply. Zevris’s frown deepened.
The door of the neighboring home creaked open, the sound followed by a dog barking.
“Where ya want this stuff, lady?” the moving truck driver asked.
“Most of the boxes are marked. If they’re living room, kitchen, or work stuff, they’ll be downstairs. The rest will go upstairs.”
That voice was sweet, soft, feminine, and it coaxed Zevris’s attention away from his mangled mailbox. He turned his head toward the source just as one of the movers dropped a box, which landed on the truck’s ramp with a dull, rattling clang.
“Please be careful with those!” the female said, raising her hands and spreading her fingers wide.
There was a dog standing beside the female’s legs, a big beast with brown and black fur. The dog had its head down, sniffing at the ground as though it were the most fascinating thing in all the world. But that could not be right—because as Zevris lifted his gaze, his eyes settled on the real most fascinating thing in this world.
The female was beautiful, and the fullness of her beauty grew more apparent as she turned toward Zevris. She had long, flowing blonde hair which fell in waves down her back, though some of it was pulled back from her face and twisted atop her head in a haphazard knot. Dark, gently arched brows rested above wide, bright eyes that were framed with thick lashes. She had a straight nose, plump, pink lips, and a small cleft in her chin.
His gaze dipped to take in her body. She wore a long-sleeved fitted T-shirt that showcased her ample bosom and hugged her waist. The writing across her chest said, I cannot lye, I love making soap. Her jeans clung to her flaring hips, rounded ass, and legs, accentuating her every tantalizing curve—and those curves were quite generous. Generous, and delicious.
Zevris’s fingers flexed, and his claws extended unbidden. He had the sudden urge to grab hold of this female, to feel her yielding flesh beneath his fingertips, to draw her body flush against his. Something in his lower abdomen drew taut. Heat stirred in his chest and pumped through his veins. It spread into his groin and pooled in his balls, making them heavy, before permeating his hardening cock.
He swallowed. His mouth and throat were suddenly dry, and he could feel his pulse throughout his body—especially in his shaft.
Zevris ached with a hunger that had nothing to do with his unfinished breakfast.
The female’s eyes fell upon him. They widened infinitesimally, and Zevris swore he saw that same attraction he felt, that same spark, in her. Her cheeks pinkened. Then her gaze shifted to the mailbox in his hands, and her eyes rounded.
“Oh my gosh, what happened?” she asked as she hurried toward him.
The dog lifted its head and followed her with a bark.
Now that she was so close, her scent drifted to Zevris. He inhaled it deeply. It was reminiscent of lavender and warm vanilla, with hints of exotic spice and a dash of something decidedly and indefinably feminine. The combination was unlike anything he’d smelled on this world or any other; it was completely unique to her. How could any fragrance be so sweet, so alluring, so…comforting?
Humans consider staring rude.
But Zevris could not bring himself to pry his eyes from this female. He rose from his crouch, still holding the battered mailbox, and his new perspective only offered him new appreciation of her.
Despite the height afforded by her brown, heeled boots, Zevris towered over her. His urge to take hold of her intensified. He wanted to take her in his arms and shield her with his body, wanted to be the only shelter she would ever need, wanted to protect her from anything the universe decided to throw her way.
He wanted to press her to the ground and cover her with his body. And he wanted those shapely thighs around his waist as he—
“Mailbox. Truck hurt…uh…” Zevris shook his head, clearing away those primal thoughts—or at least forcing them out of the forefront. It was no easy feat with her heady scent fresh in his nostrils. “The movers ran over my mailbox. I can’t imagine how fast they must’ve been driving to accomplish this.”
He lifted the mailbox in demonstration. The dangling red flag swung back and