Page 107 of Blood and Buttercups

He presses his chest to my back and rests his chin on my shoulder. As soon as the blender shuts off, he says, “I’m not a bunny like you, and therefore, I need real food in the morning. You know—bacon, eggs, sausage.Protein.”

“There’s yogurt in here,” I argue, enjoying our position.

“Yogurt isn’t meat,” he chuckles.

I turn my head, and my cheek accidentally brushes against his. “Yogurt has protein in it.”

“So you say.”

I swallow when he turns his head so we’re looking at each other. His lips are right there, and his breath smells like fresh peppermint.

Before I realize what my traitorous body is doing, I press a soft kiss to his lips.

Noah goes perfectly still, his arms tightening around me.

“Is this okay?” I whisper, my lips brushing over his.

“No.” But then his mouth moves against mine, kissing me back. Once. Just briefly.

Feeling my pulse race, I meet his eyes.

His gaze locks on mine as I slowly turn in his arms. Once I’m facing him, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him again. My nosebrushes his, and I angle to the side, focusing on his bottom lip. It’s slightly fuller than his top lip, warm and soft.

He groans, a low noise of reluctant pleasure.

Surprised at my daring, I pull back again and whisper, “That’s probably not okay either?”

Noah swallows, his chest pressing against me as he takes a deep breath. “It’s not.”

I kiss his jaw, just to the side of his chin. “And this?”

“Not okay,” he breathes, tightening his grip on me.

I’m locked in his arms, crushed against him. His muscles are tense with restraint, solid like bands of steel. I sense the thrum of his heart, the way it pounds for me. It’s a new sense, foreign. I can’t hear or feel it, but I know its rhythm.

Enthralled, I feather kisses across his jaw, moving down, my own heart racing as I kiss his neck, pausing over his pulse point.

“Careful, baby vampire,” he grits out.

“I thought I wasn’t contagious?” I kiss him again, darting my tongue out to taste his skin. Then, unable to resist, I graze my teeth over him—softly, gently.

Noah’s welcome groan turns into a growl, and he roughly grabs my shoulders and pushes me back.

The pressure of his hands doesn’t hurt, but the sudden movement is startling. One minute, he’s crushing me against his chest, and the next, he’s holding me at arm’s length.

“I’m sorry.” I blink at him. “I thought you were playing—I didn’t realize you actually wanted me to stop.”

“Piper.” He says my name like he’s in pain.

“What?” I whisper.

He softens his grip on me, rubbing gently instead of gripping. “We just need to quit, okay?”

I nod numbly. “Okay.”

Noah drops his hands.

And though it makes me feel like a child, I whisper, “Are you angry with me?”

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