Maria rose from the recliner and walked toward him on bare feet. She stopped in front of him and, wrinkling her impossibly cute little nose, picked at the sleeve of his black t-shirt. "You reek!" she exclaimed.

"It's called manual labor," he said dryly. "You should try it sometime."

"Hel-lo," Maria said. "In case you haven't noticed, I already have. This place was the most ungodly mess I've ever seen." She edged a little closer. "Did you know you could've grown potatoes in your bathtub?"

Michael took a breath. The proximity of her full lips to his made concentrating on what she was saying next to impossible. "The maid quit last week," he muttered. "Sue me."

"If only I could," Maria retorted.

"What're you doing here?" Michael asked again.

"I'll make a deal with you, spaceboy," Maria said teasingly. "You go get cleaned up...and I'll tell you why I'm here." She leaned against him for one tantalizing moment, then she went and leisurely re-settled herself in the recliner.

Michael ran a hand through his spiky hair and turned away, walking down the short hall and into the bathroom. Two chunky votives burned on the back of the toilet and, wonder of wonders, there were clean towels. Michael didn't think he'd ever seen the true color of the linoleum floor before today. He shook his head, wondering what Maria, sexy, luscious, delectable Maria was up to. Sweet, spicy Maria....

"Shut up," he muttered to himself, feeling his body responding to his thoughts. He stripped his dirty clothes off and stepped into the shower, sighing as the hot water washed over him. He soaped and rinsed himself thoroughly, taking longer than he normally would have. The idea of Maria DeLuca sitting in the other room waiting for him was...well, intriguing.

Michael had regretted breaking up with her about thirty seconds after he had done it. He had not been able to look at her as she’d said, “I’m going outside to get some air.” He’d been afraid of seeing the tears in her eyes. He’d been afraid, period. Maria had illuminated his life with the sheer force of her personality. How could he have given her up? She knew exactly who and what he was…and she cared about him anyway.

He climbed out of the shower and toweled himself dry, pulling on the clean though faded pair of sweats that he’d left in the tiny linen closet. He ran both hands through his hair and called it good. Taking a deep breath, Michael exited the bathroom, barefoot and bare-chested, and ventured back out to the front room of the trailer.

Maria sat where he’d left her, smiling dreamily as she listened to the Christmas music being played on the local radio station.

“So,” Michael said. He met her eyes in the dimness. “Are you gonna tell me why you’re here?”

Maria stood up and stretched, slowly dropped her arms to her sides and said, “Well, I’m here to give you your Christmas present.”

“My Christmas present?” Michael echoed. The last thing he would have expected from Maria DeLuca was a Christmas present. A bundle of switches, maybe. He was puzzled.

“Yeah,” Maria said. She took a step closer to him, then hesitated.

“And that would be…?”

Maria’s expression changed from coy to tentative. She tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear, smiled nervously, and said, “Me.”

Michael bridged the distance between them, his gaze locked into hers. Did she mean what he thought she meant? He scrutinized her flushed face, the visible throbbing of her pulse at the side of her neck, the shallow breaths she took. She looked determined, yet slightly fearful of rejection. Softly, almost inaudibly, Michael whispered, “Why?”

Maria swallowed, and her eyes filled with tears. She laughed shakily. “Because…because I love you, you jerk.” She shrugged. “God knows why.”

Michael’s eyes misted, and he blinked. He had never imagined anything as pure, as precious as what Maria was offering to him. It was nothing so base as merely sex. Michael knew instinctively that Maria had never given herself to anyone before. Not her body, and not her heart. He drew her close to him with a gentleness of which he had always known he was capable, sliding his hands underneath her sweater, cradling the warm skin of her back, and kissed her.

The tension between them was instantaneous, igniting with a single spark. Maria gasped as Michael delved deep inside the well of her mouth with his tongue. He broke away only long enough to strip her of her sweater and throw it across the room, immediately pulling her back against his bare chest. Maria trembled, enjoying the sensation of skin against skin, the totally unprecedented feel of her nipples swelling and hardening. She grabbed his behind, something she’d wanted to do since the first time he’d kissed her. It was satisfyingly firm and well-muscled.

“Maria,” he breathed, backing her through the small kitchen and down the hall, kissing her neck, steering her into his tiny bedroom. It was fascinating to see the irritatingly smug Michael Guerin losing control. In the dim light provided by the votive candle, she observed the prominent bulge below the waist of his sweatpants. She’d never thought much about it, but she supposed that his anatomy was the same as any human male’s. Not that she’d ever seen one of those, either.

Maria ran her fingers through Michael’s hair as he unbuttoned her jeans and eased them down her slim hips. She stepped out of them, kicking them neatly aside, and gasped as he propelled her onto the bed. “Michael…” she began as he settled himself between her legs, pressing against her, hard.

“Hmmmm?” Michael began to suckle at her neck while cupping her breasts in his hands, brushing his thumbs over the taut nipples.

Maria moaned, arching her back, forgetting entirely what she’d been about to say. She hooked her hands into the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down, and he obligingly raised himself up so she could slide them over his hips. No underwear. How very Michael.

Michael rolled onto his side and impatiently kicked his sweatpants the rest of the way off. Maria propped herself on one elbow and curiously wrapped her fingers around his erection. She explored this uncharted territory, including the wiry hairs surrounding it and the heavy sac of his scrotum, quite forgetting the main purpose of the two of them being together and undressed, until Michael whispered, “You better stop, or you’re going to get a real alien blast.”

Maria giggled, then blushed. Michael smiled warmly at her, then pulled off her panties, removing the final barrier between them. He traced the curves of her body, leaned his head to the side to kiss her shoulder, worked his way back up her neck, and caught her watching him. Her blue gaze was unaccountably serious, and he caught just a flash of her thoughts: don’t don’t hurt me

“Never,” he whispered. “I will never hurt you. Not on purpose.”

Maria looked startled. “What…?”

“Sssssh,” Michael breathed. He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating hard. Gently, he invaded the moist folds between her legs with his fingers. He slipped two fingers inside her, and Maria gasped as she felt a sudden warmth, an electric tingle. Michael traced a path from her vagina to her clit, and Maria moaned as he circled the tiny nub, leaving an aching heat in his wake.

“What did you do?” she asked breathlessly. Her lower body throbbed with need, and all she could think of was that she wanted him inside her now. She was no longer nervous.

“One of my Samantha-Jeannie-alien tricks,” Michael said smugly. “The only one that works worth a damn.” He paused to pull her on top of him and settle her in just the right place. “Instant loss of virginity,” he said, entering her slowly. “An alteration of molecular structure.”

“You talk too much,” Maria sighed, succombing to the pressure of his hands as he guided her movements.

“That’s rich,” Michael snorted. ”I talk too much?”

Heat, like the blazing sunrise of another world. Warmth. Friction. Maria and Michael faded into one another, held together by sweat and passion. At the end of it, she threw her head back, crying out loudly, every muscle in her body taut, every fiber, every cell alive with ecstasy. She had never imagined such electric pleasure. Joining. Oneness.

It was after midnight, and Maria lay wrapped in Michael’s arms in his single bed. The votive candle she’d placed on his dresser flickered, nearly burned out. She thought that he had fallen asleep, so it surprised her when he said, “Maria?”

“Yeah?” She could feel his warm breath on her shoulder.

“I love you, too,” Michael whispered.

“I know you do,” Maria whispered back. “Merry Christmas.”