Not a moment had gone by since he’d taken her blood that he hadn’t thought of her. Wondered what she was doing. Where she was. What she was thinking, feeling. It was no use. He was achingly attracted to her and knew she wanted him.
He reached out with his mind, stroking hers ever so gently, then released her. She scowled and rubbed her neck. He had to be careful, he couldn’t bear to wipe her memory again. He didn’t want to remove himself from her even if he was leaving soon.
What he learned surprised him. She wasn’t upset about what happened at the auction or that she couldn’t get him off her mind. She was upset by how he regarded her as a result, that he may have a low opinion of her.
Oh God, if she only knew.
She didn’t want him to think her behavior that night was indicative of her as a person even though all she was looking for was a short-term relationship.
He wanted to drag her into his arms, cover her with kisses, and convince her otherwise. That he didn’t think any less of her. Quite the opposite. Their attraction for each other was powerful, almost palpable. Being aware of the blood bond had helped him to control it, but she had no idea. She really couldn’t help herself that night.
One thing was clear. She wanted him now. He didn’t have to probe her mind to know that. He could taste it in the air between them, smell it on her breath. Whether or not she’d admit it just depended on how hard he tried.
Everything about her compelled him and he physically ached to know her better. Short-term? Yes, he was fine with that. Wouldn’t want anything more. Of course not.
“What if I told you that I find you attractive on every level? That I want to know what makes you you?” Her face softened somewhat. She was listening. “What kind of music you like. Your favorite artist. The last book you read. Your favorite dessert. I know you’re much more than those fifteen minutes on the terrace. You fascinate me on every level, Mackenzie Foster-Shaw, and I simply want to know you better. That’s all.”
She said nothing, but the color of her eyes deepened, saying what words could not.
He ran the tip of his nose along the smooth column of her throat and felt her shiver. Instead of backing away, she tilted her chin up to give him more access, and he knew he had her. He pushed her hair aside, still careful not to touch her skin with his fingers. She moaned softly and the musky scent of her arousal filled his nostrils. He knew she wanted to feel his hands on her, but he was going to make her wait.
“Of course, I’d be lying if I said I was upset it happened. I’m not. Ever since that night on the terrace, I’ve dreamed what it would be like to have you in my bed.” He felt heat radiate from her cheeks and she exhaled slowly. “But I also respect your feelings and simply want to cook for you. That’s it. There will be no christening.” The tip of her tongue darted out for a moment. Not unless you want it, he wanted to say, but he stopped himself.
God, he was mesmerized by her. Her large hoop earring had captured a strand of her hair. Reaching up a finger, taking care not to touch the silver, he ran it down the side of her face, releasing the curl. Her body trembled and he had to suppress a growl. His gums ached, but his fangs stayed hidden.
He wanted this woman as he had never wanted anyone before. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to lift up her flirty skirt, slip her tights off her hips, and push himself inside her softness here in the art school hallway. He was going to get her to make the first move and it would be so much sweeter that way.
“I’ll be the perfect gentleman.” He put his palms up. “Promise.”
Her lips curved into a smile as she backed away and sauntered to the stairs again, her skirt swinging against her thighs in a sweet goodbye. Long, loose curls bounced on her back as she trotted down the steps.
“Tomorrow night? What time?” she called from the landing.
“How about seven?”
“I’ll be there.” As she got to the bottom, he heard her voice again, but it was