I crossed my arms behind his neck, and his heartbeat quickened against the inside of my forearms. He planted several soft kisses along my jaw, his fingers playing across my collarbone. Anticipation robbed me of my breath, and my heart leapt to my throat.
He tipped his forehead to mine, his face too close now to make out anything more than his teal eyes and dark, tangled lashes. My heart went wild in my chest. I quickly realized I was holding my breath, and it took a conscious effort to release it slowly.
“Charles?” I whispered, my lips brushing his as I spoke.
His mouth closed over mine, and I kissed him, tasting him with a hunger that belied my outward calm. He wound his hand in my hair, his lips pressed firmly on my own. A wave of heat traveled over my skin as desire pulsed through my body like wildfire on a hot Colorado day, consuming me the way those fires consumed whole stretches of forest.
Charles’ warm hands untangled from my hair and slid down my back, his fingertips tracing small circles across my skin, just under my shirt. Swimming through the haze, I fought to control the swirl of emotions and relax away my doubts as his hands slowly moved up to caress my breasts through the lace of my bra. His thumbs grazed my nipples through the material, and my breath quickened.
“Sophia,” he said softly, pulling away. “We should stop.”
But when I kissed him again, he didn’t resist. Our breathing shifted into deeper, heady breaths, the air surrounding us growing thicker and effused with passion. A growl rumbled in his chest as I slid my arms around him. I leaned back on the bed, pulling him on top of me, his body flush with mine, his mouth moving to my neck, dropping kisses across my chest, down to where the plunging neckline of my blouse came to a halt.
His body shifted between my knees, his interest pressing the inside of my thigh as his lips returned to mine and his hand caressed over my hips, up toward my navel. His fingers played along the waistline of my jeans, skimming the skin beneath the top of my underwear, and I sighed. He paused, kissed me once more gently, then flopped back on the bed to stare at the ceiling.
Moonlight shone through the window and gleamed off his fangs. My heart sped, but desire replaced my usual fear. I didn’t care about his fangs. I only wanted to give in to the steady pool of warmth in my stomach.
I sat up and cupped my hands around his face, strands of his hair feathering against the pillow. “We can’t stop every time.”
He pointed toward the movie. “Look. Your favorite part.”
“Your fangs bother you that much?” When he didn’t answer, I straddled over him, blocking his view of the television. I leaned forward, my hair spilling over my shoulder onto the pillow beside him, and pressed a kiss against his neck and another along his jaw. I ran my hands over his shoulders and whispered in his ear, “They don’t bother me.”
Charles grabbed my wrists, and, in one swift movement, pinned me to the mattress. He didn’t need his strength to hold me there—the suddenness of his actions were enough to leave me frozen. Heat radiated from his body, warming against my thighs, stomach, and breasts. His scent of vanilla and sandalwood and his close proximity sent my body into a state of arousal, and my nipples hardened beneath my bra. I peered up at him, unsure what to make of the situation. His body suggested passion, but his eyes were cold and hard.
“You are the most aggravating woman I’ve ever met,” he said. The muscle in his jaw twitched. “You expect far more self-control from me than any man could have.”
“I’m not asking for your self-control,” I said firmly.
He released my wrists and climbed off me. “You’re not ready for this.”
“I am.”
“You’ve never done it before,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking to the wall across the room.
I swallowed past the tight lump in my throat. “You don’t know that.”
He turned, raising an eyebrow. “Tell me otherwise.”
I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze, and I pressed my lips together, for once unable to conjure a lie.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “There may be many things I cannot give you, Sophia, but I can give you the time to learn yourself. To be certain—”
“I am certain.”
“—of our future,” he finished.
How could either of us be certain of that? “I’m not asking for any promises. I understand why you can’t—won’t—change, and I’ve decided to accept that.”
“You decide a lot of things.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You allow your mind to silence your heart.”
“What do you want?” I asked, both defeated and determined to figure him out. “You don’t want to be with me, but you don’t want me to leave. You don’t want to grow old with me, but you don’t want me to be with you so long as you’re immortal. Tell me, what is it I’m missing here?”
“You should expect more.”
“You don’t want me to!”