“What are you thinking?” I asked, unable to go further without knowing.
“I’m trying to think of what I can say, what I can promise you to get you to finish what you’ve started.”
His desperation made my lips curve and eased some of my tension. I was still in control.
“And what did I start?”
His fingers twitched at my waist.
“Just kiss me already, Isabelle.”
Nervousness at hearing him say it aloud had me wondering if he’d let me escape. As I stared into his deep brown eyes, I realized I didn’t want to run. I wanted to stay. I wanted to try. Slowly, I reached up and set my hands along his jaw. His pulse jumped under my fingertips, and the shaking grew more pronounced. Mindful of his bruises, I lightly ran my fingers over his stubble. He held still, letting me explore the arch of his brow, the slight bump on his nose, and the curve of his bottom lip.
My pulse raced as I traced my finger over his mouth once more. What would it feel like to press my lips to his? I desperately wanted to know. I leaned in, watching him as I closed the distance between us.
An inch from his lips, I paused and tried to control what I felt. I didn’t want to drain him.
Carefully, I brushed my mouth lightly across his. A zing of excitement and need ripped through me, and I quickly pulled away to check him. His eyes immediately popped open. The pupils were extremely dilated, but very much human.
Reassured, I dipped my head down to try again. Setting my lips against his, I explored the warmth and texture of his skin. I nibbled at his fuller bottom lip, and a faint growl rumbled in his chest. His hands, still curled around my waist, gripped me more firmly when I opened my mouth and licked his lip.
He didn’t stop me or take over. He continued to let me explore one little nip and lick at a time. My skin tingled but not in the negative way I’d grown so used to. Finally, I pulled back and gave him a tentative smile.
When he opened his eyes, the pupils were far too large for his face.
“Does this mean you’re ready?” His voice was rough, deep, and hard to understand, and each word he spoke exposed his elongated canines.
I swallowed hard and slowly shook my head. Whatever he was ready for, I definitely was not.
“Too bad,” he said a moment before he had me on my back, his weight pressing me into the couch.
Before I could inhale a decent breath to tell him to get off, he buried his face in the curve of my neck. His tongue traced a wet path up to the little dip below my ear. I shivered and gripped his shoulders. His teeth scraped my skin there, and a rather girly sigh escaped me.
“Carlos, wait,” I said on another breathy exhale.
His tongue blazed a trail back down to my collarbone, played there for a bit, then traced its way up the other side of my neck. By the time he nibbled that side, I was panting. He left my neck and pulled back enough to look down at me.
“Bite me, Isabelle.”
Like a bucket of cold water dumped over my head, his words brought clarity to what we were doing.
“It’s time for you to get off me,” I said, giving his shoulders a slight push.
He dropped his forehead to my chest.
Why did that cause a burst of heat inside me?
“Seriously. Up now.” I pushed his shoulders again, with very little effect. He wasn’t ready to stop. I needed to make him.
“I’m going to start pulling and won’t stop until I have enough strength to push you off me. Is that what you want?”
He lifted himself off me, stood, then stiffly left the apartment.
I watched the rest of the movie alone.
After taking a very long, hot shower, I sat on the couch and brushed my hair while I contemplated if I should go and find Carlos. I didn’t think he’d been mad when he’d left. Annoyed, maybe. Disappointed, most likely. But not mad. What was the point of tracking him down, then? I wasn’t ready to pick up where we’d left off.
Yet, a small part of me continued to wonder if I was wrong, and that he really was upset with me.
I tossed the brush aside and drew my legs to my chest. I recalled our kiss and blushed at the memory. I had allowed myself to feel every wonderful emotion and nothing bad had happened. If Ethan were here...I sighed. He would be happy for me, happy that I wouldn’t need to spend my life alone. Well, if Carlos ever came back.
I was just about to get up and wander around the apartment when a key slid into the lock. I stood quickly and watched as Carlos opened the door. His gaze immediately found mine.
The worry I’d harbored surged forward as he eased the door closed behind him and stood still, watching me.
“Are you mad?” I asked.
“Why would I be mad?”
I shrugged, unwilling to speak my doubts if there wasn’t a reason.
He inhaled deeply.