Maria groaned and turned over, hitting her pillow. Had she really said that? Standing just inches away from those lips? From those eyes? In this horrible Playboy Bunnies-From-Hell room that reeked of sex? She'd been that close to Roswell High's sexiest bad boy. . .Michael-my-name-is-on-every-Girl's Bathroom-wall-after-an "I Wanna Fuck"-Guerin. . .and she'd blown it! Gone with that damn first verbal impulse when she should've just kissed the damn stuffing out of him.

"Auggh!" she ground out, pressing her fist to her mouth.

Suddenly a hand snaked up from the floor and pushed grudgingly at her back. "Would you quit making noise? Some self-respecting aliens need their sleep!"

"Blow me!" she hissed, shrugging off his hand. . .his artsy fingers. . .the fingers that had been clenched around the steering wheel as he hijacked her.

"You wish, DeLuca." And the hand moved. She didn't know whether to be happy or disappointed.

"No, *you* wish, Guerin," she snapped back, rolling over and staring over the side of the bed. Even in the dark, Michael's eyes were so bright. . . glowing all green-gold. Like a cat's. . .not some weirdo being from another planet.

He was just lying there, with his arms crossed behind his head. Relaxed, not angry. "Get some rest, Maria," he sighed, instead of saying something else expectedly rude.

"I. . .I can't." She leaned her chin on the red satin bedspread. He was so hot. Unbelievably hot.

"Why not?" And that look was back in his eyes. That David Duchovny-ish, puppy dog, "I want you", look. He'd had it when they'd been close earlier. The tease. "I've kidnapped you. . .I blew up your car. . .afraid I'm going to suck out your brains?" he wondered dangerously.

She shivered and shook her head.

He just wouldn't stop looking up at her. "Then what?"

This opportunity was never going to repeat itself. "I'm. . .I'mafraidyou'rethelastalienonEarth." She said it so quickly that the words ran together. . .but he still caught them. . .and she buried her face in the satin as his eyebrows went up.

"What?!?"

Was that laughter or total disgust in his voice? "Mmph. . .uh-uh," she muttered into the bedspread, refusing to say it all again.

She heard him moving. . .sitting up? And suddenly his long, artsy, fingers were touching her hair. Stroking through, sending jolts of pleasure down her scalp. "Maria."

"Uh-uh." She shook her head more vigorously, not daring to raise it--half afraid he would stop touching her if she did.

"Maria. . .will you look at me if I kiss you?"

"What?!?"

And she jerked up. . .angling right into lips that were waiting just inches away. His mouth was soft, but demanding. . .and she had no idea why he was doing it but she didn't want it to stop. His hand was tangled in her hair, holding her head up, because, without it, she knew she would have flopped over like a rag doll. . .totally knocked over, even though she was lying down. Michael Guerin could kiss. Oh, yeah, could he kiss. He knew just when to pull away to let her breathe, just when to lean in again.

She scrambled up to her shaky knees, pulling him up from the floor by the collar of his black t-shirt and against her. He moved with her onto the heart-shaped, billowy, bed. Stalking her up towards the headboard under his brooding stare and lean body. His arms came down on either side of her, trapping her below him as he cupped her face in both hands and kissed her again. It felt like a hundred little fingers were dancing down her spine. . . alien and familiar all at the same time.

His name tore from her lips as they pulled apart to gasp for air.

"Michael!"

"What?" This time the question was a low, erotic, laugh that made her toes curl. Michael Guerin laughs were more known for mocking. . .and she would never think of them the same.

"Marathon." What? She'd meant to say, "make love to me." But it was out. . .the name of the place they'd been headed before the car died. The real point to them being in this motel room together. Marathon, Texas.

"I know." His forehead touched hers lightly. . .and he swore under his breath. "I can't. . .we can't. . .not right now."

She touched the side of his face, nodding that she understood even though she was kicking herself mentally for breaking the mood, and let him push off of her. He dragged a hand through his spiky hair and swallowed hard.

She wanted to pull him into her arms again. . .and she knew he wanted to be pulled. He swayed towards her. . ."Get some rest, Maria," he gasped as he launched himself over the side of the bed.

Great. She rolled to her side and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to think of anything. . .anything but what they could've done if she'd kept her mouth shut. *Naked Michael. Naked alien sex with Michael.* Didn't succeed. The chances of her resting *now* were even less.

**Minutes later. . .**

The door eased open and every nerve impulse in her body went nuts. *Mom*? *Valenti*? *A psycho*? She leapt up and tumbled from the bed. . . landing with a hard thump right on top of Michael's hard body. . .and oh, God, she wanted him again. She wanted to rip off his clothes and finish what they'd left unfinished. . .even though the lights were turning on. . .and Liz and Max and Isabel were all right there. . .non-psycho but still waaaay threatening on many levels.

It was Michael's hand pushing her up, and a gentle kiss on her throat saying "Later, I promise", that stopped the lust, urged her to scramble off of him and face their friends. *Had* they seen Michael's hand, his mouth against her neck?

The looks on their faces said they'd seen. . .*something.* And her first verbal impulse was to deny it. . .so, this time, she went with it. "No, no. You don't think--I mean, that is, like so unreal! I mean. . .come on, would you tell them?" she demanded, looking sideways at Michael for help.

"Come on, Honey, we don't have to lie. . ." he cracked as she reddened and shook her head. A smile quirked at his lips and she couldn't help reaching over to hit at him. From the look on Liz's face, for now, they *did* have to lie.

"I believe you. The day Michael calls anybody 'Honey', it's all over." Isabel's smooth tones interrupted her abuse, but Maria barely registered the comment. . .was too focused on Michael's mischievous eyes. They promised, "Later."

She'd wait. For the last alien on her Earth.