“You can wear these.”
He made a shadow in the hallway. It stretched down to touch her, though he made no move at doing so. “Thank you, Lilly.”
“I’m locking this door,” she reminded him. “Don’t you try anything crazy. And if you’re going to steal something, make sure you break a lot of stuff, too, so I can prove the break-in for the insurance.”
“I’m not going to steal anything.”
She made that noise again, and this time thought she heard a soft chuff of laughter. It warmed her as much as his smile and voice had. As much as the look. He was definitely mind-freaking her, what else could it be?
* * *
In the morning, Lilly awoke to the smell of something good. Coffee, eggs. Bagels? She swung her feet out of bed, wincing when her toes touched the cold floor.
In the kitchen, Zach stood over the stove. He wore the sweatpants she’d given him but nothing else. He was thinner than she remembered, but more muscular. When he turned to face her, in the snow-bright light of day, she wondered how she could ever have thought his face was ordinary.
“Good morning, Lilly.”
“Breakfast?”
“You need to eat when you awake, or else you suffer.”
She smiled. “You mean everyone around me suffers.”
Zach inclined his head in the way he had of looking her over. “I don’t wish to suffer.”
She sat at the table, waiting again for a sense of unreality to wash over her. A sense of something other than perfect normality. It didn’t come. She only felt hungry.
He set the plate on the table and took the chair across from her. He folded his hands, one over the other. He watched her.
Lilly paused, fork halfway to her mouth. “You don’t eat?”
“I don’t need to eat yet.”
“You drank cocoa last night.”
“That was for the pleasure of it,” he said. “Not a need for sustenance.”
“They send you down here with like what, a week’s worth of stored-up energy?”
“Something like that, yes.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you saying that because it’s true or because you want to agree with me?”
“It’s true. You know more than you think you could, Lilly.”
“Mind freak,” she muttered and bit into the fluffy, perfectly cooked eggs. He’d spread her bagel with cream cheese and lox in just the right amounts. She washed down both bites with hot coffee brewed just right.
Zach sat and watched her. He had thick, dark brows to match his thick, dark hair. Dark eyes. Big, strong hands.
Lilly put down her fork and licked her lips. “Why me?”
“Why not you?”
“That’s no answer.”
Zach shrugged, never looking away from her eyes. “It’s my answer.”
Lilly sipped coffee while she thought. She looked out the sliding glass doors. The snow had piled up, drifted, waist-high. Outside she could see more drifts, more snow. She lived in at the end of a cul-de-sac, usually the last street to be plowed. She hadn’t yet heard the plows go by. They were stuck here for hours, if not the entire day.
“Tell me you know how to play board games, Zach.”
“I can learn whatever you want to teach me.”
She smiled. “Is that so?”
Zach smiled, too. She was prepared for it this time, but it still affected her. “This is so.”
“All right then,” she said. “Let’s play.”
* * *
Seven hours later he’d thoroughly kicked her ass in Scrabble, but she’d wiped him out in Trivial Pursuit. Zach, it seemed, knew a lot of big words but not much about pop culture. He had lit a fire in her never-before-used fireplace, waving a hand over the sodden wood from a pile on the deck Lilly hadn’t even known she had, and coaxing it into flame.
He hadn’t put on a shirt, which was fine by her. He had a very, very hot body, even with the strange and random sparkling thing his skin did. Not like Edward Cullen, Lilly thought as he got up to poke at the fire. Softer than that, more like ripples of iridescent color.
He caught her staring. “Would you like another game?”
“Why do you look like us?”
“I do not look like you, Lilly Gold.”
“No.” She scooted closer to study his bare skin. “I mean, like us. Like humans. Like a man.”
“I am as I was made. How else should I look?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But your skin...glows.”
He looked down at himself, then at her. “Does it?”
“Yeah. See?” She ran a fingertip down his arm to his wrist and watched the way the light subtly shifted over his skin. She put her arm next to his, to show him. Skin to skin, heat. Her breath caught.
Zach caught her wrist, turned her arm, traced a line down the soft inner flesh of her forearm. The faintest blush followed his touch. Lilly shivered, feeling it all over.
She was getting a pretty good idea, maybe not of what she needed, but what she might want from him. Which was just crazy insane, crazier even than him being from another planet. But was it?
She’d slept with three guys since she left Danny, and not one of them had she known more about than what she knew about the man in front of her—a first name. She hadn’t spent a day playing board games with any of them, either. She hadn’t done anything with them other than go home and fuck them.
“At least I know you’re not a vampire,” she whispered as his finger traced more heat over her skin. “You’re not cold.”
Zach looked surprised. “Would you think I am?”
Lilly shook her head slowly, aware of how close they were sitting. She could feel heat radiating from him, hotter than the fire. She could see the reflection of flames in his deep brown eyes. “Where did you come from? Does it have a name?”
“It has many names.”
She quirked a grin at him. “Could I pronounce any of them?”
His laugh, low and rumbly, tickled her belly like a sudden, sharp drop. “No. But your people have names for where I’m from.”
“Mars? Venus? Saturn? No, someplace farther away than that. Right? Has to be.”
“Both farther away and closer than you could ever think,” Zach said. His fingers traced another pattern on her skin.
Outside, night had fallen. Lilly got to her feet, a little unsteady in the aftermath of Zach’s tender touch. He looked up at her.
“The candles,” she said. “It’s time to light the candles.”
Zach unfolded himself from the floor and followed her to the kitchen. Second night, three candles. Lilly shook them from the box, concentrating on this simple task to keep her mind from going to other strange places. She placed the candles in their holders, lit the shamash and murmured the blessing, suddenly self-conscious until she heard Zach’s deep voice speaking the words along with her.
“Baruk atta Adonai, Eloheynu Melekh Ha-olom, Asher Kiddeshanu Bo-mitsvoytov viztivanu Lehadlik Ner Shel Hanukkah,” he said. “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us by His commandments, and has commanded us to kindle the lights of Hanukkah.”
As with everything else that had happened, him knowing the blessing should’ve surprised her, and it didn’t. Together they stared at the candles’ reflection flickering in the window glass. Zach had a way with silence, of making spaces between words that were somehow as meaningful as speech itself.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Lilly said quietly, watching the wax begin to drip.
Zach, silent, took her hand. Their fingers linked. Palm to palm. Skin to skin again. That was reply enough for her.
* * *
Gray skies the next morning forecast more snow. Mid-state was being slammed with severe weather warnings. The plows still hadn’t gone by and a quick call to the local borough office earned Lilly a recorded greeting stating that all crews were working, but there was no guarantee of any service soon. In case of emergency, she was su
pposed to call the police or fire department, but Lilly had no emergency. Her boss had closed the office in response to the governor’s declaration of a state of emergency. Nobody was going to work.
“When I was a kid, I used to pray for snow days.” Lilly looked out the window at the falling flakes adding to the inches already on the ground. She yawned and stretched, feeling decadent, and shot him a grin.
Zach smiled. “I know.”
“Do you?” She studied him. He’d slept on the couch again last night. If in fact, he slept. Since he didn’t eat she couldn’t be sure. She hadn’t locked her door and had thought she’d lie awake in anticipation again, but had slept dreamless and hard. “What else do you know about me?”
“Much. Not enough. I could learn more. You could tell me.”
She thought of how his fingers had slipped into hers and of his warmth. “Do you look like you do because of me?”
Zach hesitated, tilting his head in that way he had. Like he was taking the time to really think before answering. “Yes.”
Lilly nodded. She thought as much. “Can I see what you really look like?”
“Your eyes can’t see my true form any more than your voice could pronounce my real name.” Zach shook his head and swept a hand over his body, giving her that look. “But this form pleases you, doesn’t it?”
“My grandma always told me it wasn’t what a person looked like on the outside, but what was inside that counted. What was underneath.”
“Your grandma said many smart things.”
Lilly looked him over, no longer waiting for this to feel weird. If it didn’t by now, it never would. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
“I would like to do whatever you want.”
“Well,” Lilly said with a laugh, “that’s a first.”
As was the way with gray days, she fell asleep on the couch halfway through the movie. She awoke to setting darkness and a warm chest beneath her cheek. A hand stroking her hair. And a sense of peace and satisfaction she hadn’t felt in...well, ever.
She didn’t move, her eyes still closed, though she was fully awake. Somehow they’d shifted so she lay against Zach, cradled on his strong thighs. His chest rose and fell beneath her cheek, and the steady, strong thump of his heart vibrated against her. Her hand rested on his tight belly.
She knew she should move, but didn’t want to. It was that not wanting that got her up, hair disheveled and eyes gritty. She rubbed at her face. He was smiling.
“It’s time to light the candles.” Lilly’s voice was hoarse, maybe from sleep. Maybe something else.
“Yes.”
Third night, four candles. She lit the shamash and the first and second, then held it out to Zach. “Do you want to light some?”
Those dark eyes widened a little. “I would like to. Yes.”
His hand closed over hers. Took the candle. He lit the others and settled the shamash back in its place, higher than the others. They both stared at the flames.
“I’m hungry,” Lilly said. “Let’s make latkes.”
Together they grated potatoes and onions, minced garlic. Lilly filled the pan with oil and turned on the burner. She scooped potato mush into the oil and the delicious smell of frying latkes made her mouth water.
They talked while she cooked and he watched. She told him jokes, and he laughed. She spoke of her childhood, her job, her past relationships. Zach listened, his silence again as much a conversation as anything he said.
“Nobody’s ever listened the way you do,” Lilly said when the latkes were cooked and set on the table along with the traditional applesauce and her favorite, sour cream. “I mean, people hear, but they don’t always listen.”
“Then they’ve lost a great opportunity, Lilly.”
“Don’t I know it.” She put two plates on the table and sat, adding latkes to hers.
Zach sat, too, and used a fork to stab a latke onto his plate. He cut it into smaller pieces and ate one as she watched. His eyes closed. His features smoothed into an expression so serene, so sensual, Lilly’s throat dried.
His mouth glistened with oil. He tasted like latkes when he kissed her, and of something else she couldn’t figure out. He tasted of laughter and comfort and desire, and she pulled away from him, shaking. Zach’s hand stroked her hair, then cupped her cheek.
Lilly looked into his eyes and lost herself inside his gaze. Everything she wanted, all she needed was right there before her, if only she could allow herself to take it. Every muscle tensed, but Zach didn’t kiss her again.
That night, she left her door not just unlocked, but open, and slept again without dreams all the way through the night.
* * *
“If you’re going to build a snowman, you’re going to need some warmer clothes.” Lilly looked Zach up and down on his place stretched out on the couch. “I don’t have boots or a coat to fit you. I can find a sweatshirt, I think. Hat, gloves. But do you even need things like that?”
He sat and looked at himself. “This body would suffer the cold the same as yours.”
“Oh, bother.” She tapped her finger against her cheek. Four days snowed-in was making her stir-crazy. They still couldn’t go anywhere, and more snow, incredibly, had been predicted, but they could at least go into her miniscule backyard and get some fresh air.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “I think I have a box of some stuff that might work in the garage.”
Leftover junk from Danny she’d meant to toss in the trash but never had. Rummaging through it, she found a pair of worn boots that might fit Zach, along with a long-sleeved thermal shirt. The sleeves were too short and left his wrists bare, and the hem rode up a bit on his belly, but the fit was so tight it clung to him in a way she had to admit was delicious.
She couldn’t stop thinking of his kiss.
She didn’t really want to.
In the yard they made a snowman and a snow lady. Mrs. Peterson from next door leaned out her back door and told them they were crazy, but she was laughing as she said it, and she invited them both into her house for hot cocoa.
“Your new young man seems very nice,” Mrs. Peterson said when Zach excused himself to use the bathroom.
At first, Lilly was too busy pondering the fact that he had needed to use the bathroom to answer. She guessed if he ate, he needed to use the toilet, too. But then Mrs. Peterson’s words got through.
“Zach?”
“Oh, yes. He’s very handsome, Lilly. And so much going on in those eyes. How did you meet him?”
Mrs. Peterson didn’t know the half of it. Fortunately, Lilly didn’t have to come up with an explanation, since Zach came out from the bathroom. Cocoa finished, they went back across the yards, through the snow, as the sky got dark again.
Fourth night, five candles.
They shared the lighting of them, and the blessing, and when Lilly suggested they go outside to look at the menorah through the glass, the way she had the night Zach first arrived, he agreed without hesitation.
She should’ve been cold, but with Zach’s arm around her, all Lilly felt was delicious warmth. The light from the candles didn’t shine far, but looking at the light also made her feel warm. Everything about this felt right.
Looking down at Zach’s feet clad in the castoff boots of her ex-lover, Lilly realized that for the first time in the past six months, she’d thought of Danny without “Screw Danny” riding coattail.
Zach had done that for her. Led her to letting that go. She found his hand, neither of them wearing gloves. His long, strong fingers, fully male. Warm. She looked up at him.
“Let’s make snow angels.”
Zach blinked, then laughed. He kissed her. “If that’s what you want.”
Laughing, Lilly flopped back in the snow and moved her arms and legs, making the angel’s wings and robes while Zach watched.
“Don’t you want to make one?” she asked him, breathless with laughter, with chill, with desire.
He shook his head. She held up he
r hand for him to take so she could get up, but instead, he moved to her. He covered her with his heat. His mouth found hers. She opened for him, his tongue. She wrapped herself around him, arms and legs. Snow found its way into many strange places and made her shiver even as his heat kept her from being cold.
They kissed that way forever or maybe only a minute or two. There wasn’t enough light for him to sparkle, but she had no trouble seeing his face. Lilly touched his brows, his cheeks and chin. She kissed his mouth.
“Let’s go inside,” she said.
He got up first, pulled her to her feet. Together they looked at the impression they’d left in the snow. It looked nothing like an angel, and she laughed.
“We ruined it.”
Zach kissed her again. “I don’t think so.”
She wasn’t going to argue with that. Instead, Lilly took him by the hand. Inside, they stripped off their wet clothes and left them in piles on the floor, then their dry clothes, too. She’d seen him naked already and thought she might feel shy about being that way in front of him, but she didn’t.
Nothing about Zach made her shy.
“You are perfect,” she told him.
“You’re beautiful,” Zach said.
She believed him. It would’ve been romantic to lie down with him in front of the fire, to make sweet love the way it happened in movies, but she didn’t want to wait long enough for him to build a fire. All at once, Lilly felt she’d waited four days too long already. She jumped a little, and he caught her, not hesitating a second as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and found his mouth to kiss.
He was lean, but strong. He held her as though she weighed nothing, which definitely wasn’t true. His mouth opened under hers. His tongue stroked, his lips nibbled.
“Bedroom,” Lilly breathed, looking into his eyes. Fathomless, dark eyes.
Zach took her there.
Inside, they fell onto her bed in a tangle of limbs. Zach rolled them until she was on top. The soft material of her panties pulled snug as she straddled him. She already needed him so much the fabric had gone damp.
“Is that what you meant,” she asked him between kisses, “when you said you’d be what I need?”