Resisting the Alien Rider (Cowboy Colony Mail-Order Brides, #3)

by Ursa Dax

There was something distinctly hilarious about a guy as brooding and irritable as Garrek riding such an adorable mount with a pink heart on its ass.

She made the act of pissing sound pretty. How was that even possible? I’d let her urinate on me if she wanted to.

“Hold on…” She gasped, then aimed an accusatory finger right at the centre of my chest. “If you can see so well, does that mean you were watching me pee?” It was an annoyingly reasonable question, especially considering the bizarre turn my thoughts had taken mere moments ago.

Well. I guessed I could add being observant to the list of his ever-so-charming qualities. So far, the list went a little something like: Good at cowboy things Bad at small talk Impatient Doesn’t think I can pee on my own Observant Nice hands

“Sweet pee,” I echoed in confused confirmation. “As in urine?” That could not possibly be correct. Killian’s tail flicked about behind him. His mouth shaped itself into a defensive pout, like an upside-down shuldu shoe. “That’s right. She said it is a human term of endearment.” A human term of endearment? Based on bodily waste?

“You guys don’t have plush toys for children? They’re like stuffed animals.”

“Human children use dead, stuffed creatures as… as their playthings?”

“Just stay with me.”

“All you have to do is put your arms around me,” I told him impatiently. “And then what?” he asked suspiciously. “And then we just… stand there.” “Doing a hug.” “Precisely.” “That… sounds stupid.”

“I’m not Oaken. I’m not the man you came here for. But I can be the man you need. And I’ll work every day to be the man who deserves you.” His jaw flexed. His eyes searched mine. “If… If you’ll have me.”

“Still not sure if I should thank you or curse you,” he muttered. He left the spot he’d been standing, crossing the empty, roofless room to me. “But I do know that I’m no longer the man I was before you. And I believe it is the same for Killian.”

“I learned,” he huffed on a hoarse breath, “about mating positions. And female erogenous zones. Like the clitohorses.”

Garrek groaned. “Why am I not surprised? You talk to fabric animals. Why would you not also talk to my genitals?”

“I did not have it in me to call you sweet urine, human term of endearment or not.”

I could do nothing but give her what she needed. What she needed was my body’s deepest calling. The greatest purpose of my life.