My Crazy Hot Interstellar Affair

18. Supermodels Discovered at Fast Food Banquet

Andie lay in an ice cavern on the moon. She shivered and probed around her, searching for something warm. A blanket would be nice. A warm body, even better. But there was nothing but ice and rock and utter darkness. No oxygen. She tried to suck in some air, but it was doing her as much good as breathing water. Her temple throbbed as if a horde of drunken hooligans got ahold of some fireworks and put on a pyrotechnic extravaganza in her skull.

A blue light shone at the end of the cavern. It had to be Oliver. She tried to call his name, but no sound came from her dry throat. Maybe he knew she was there. But the light hung in place like a warning beacon, and Andie knew it would not come to her. She had to get there on her own. The light crackled and hissed and moved toward her at last. But instead of Oliver, Talia's horrible, beautiful face materialized and hung bodiless in the blue light, cackling like a cartoon crone.

Just as Andie's lungs were about to burst, she woke in the dark, her head buried under a king-sized pillow.

She threw it off and gasped. Sweet oxygen filled her lungs. She calmed as she realized, with great relief, the whole moon thing had been a dream. She was still on terra firma. And speaking of firm, Andie reached for him but found only an Oliver-sized depression in the mattress. The duvet lay on the floor, a rumpled pile of encapsulated down. Andie found a folded piece of paper on his pillow with her name written in beautiful curved script. She unfolded the paper.

Dear Andromeda, I will return shortly. I had to take care of Talia. Please wait for me in bed. There are a few things I need to explain, and I'd like to give you the house tour in person. Oliver.

What? No. He'd made the most amazing inhumanly awesome love to Andie half the night, and the moment she'd fallen asleep, he left to "take care" of his "fiancé."

Okay, you're being irrational, Andie reminded herself. He has no interest in Talia. He only wants to make sure she is properly punished and confined. He wants to keep me safe.

But she could not reason away her jealousy, especially with Talia's cackle so fresh in her subconscious. As long as Oliver was in Talia's clutches, he might choose her. The woman had trained her entire life only to please Oliver. Maybe he would realize Talia would make him happier than Andie ever could. He might come to his senses and leave Andie cold and alone. Wait, that's exactly what he has done. And where was Bad Andie? Probably doing the cerebral equivalent of smoking cigarettes and casting smug glances. An image of Andie in a black bra, lying in bed smoking a cigarette (yuk) came to mind.

"Stop that," Andie said.

"I know you love it. I watched you last night," Bad Andie said.

"Go away. I need to think."

"Obsess, you mean. About stupid things, like Talia. Can you honestly believe after last night that she is anything to him?"

Bad Andie played images of the previous night like a porn movie in Andie's head. Oliver's taut, muscled body sliding over hers. The cinnamon scent of him. His mouth demanding, stroking, igniting her into throes of ecstasy.

"All right," said Andie, all of this making Oliver's absence even more upsetting. Even though her long-neglected nether regions were sore from the sudden onslaught of activity, they were more than ready for more 'activity.' "You have a point."

"Thank you. I don't know why I put up with this. Someday you'll appreciate me."

"Doubtful."

An excruciating pain pierced her temple, putting an end to her internal squabble. Andie pressed on the spot and jerked away from an electric shock. Her fingertips tingled and sparked with the same blue light that had enveloped them during their cosmic lovemaking.