Page 108 of Even Vampires Bleed
The Léandre I used to know had no trouble showing whoever he wanted—me—that he wanted them.
It’s making me sad even if I know I shouldn’t feel that way. He isn’t the same man I knew. I should know that.
That doesn’t prevent my heart from breaking a little.
But what am I supposed to do now?
I’m stuck against Léandre, and I’m torn between relaxing in his embrace and bolting as far as I can.
My stupid heart likes the situation way too much, and I can’t let that happen.
But I can’t help but wonder what would it feel to just bask in Léandre’s warmth.
If I let my hand wander on his chest. If I slipped my hand under my thigh and stroked his hard on.
If I decided to fully straddle him and worked myself on his hard cock until I came.
I start rocking against Léandre.
No, no, no.
I can’t do that to him. He’s not even awake.
And I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want that if he was awake.
What the hell am I doing?
I’m ashamed of myself.
I know I should blame it on my hormones that have been going wild lately, but it wouldn’t be right, either.
It isn’t just that, and I know better.
I might still want Léandre.
I might like this new version of him, too.
But it doesn’t give me the right to rub myself against him while he isn’t conscious.
I brace myself—and my hand against his torso—and use my bat speed to slip out.
It’s not discreet, and I have no doubt Léandre feels it, but I run away to the kitchen before taking the time to double check if he woke up.
By the time I’m in front of the cooler, my heart is beating wildly.
What am I going to do with myself?
57
Léandre
I’m jolted awake by pressure on top of my chest and immediately feel the loss of the warmth that was cocooning me.
Wrapped in the smell of Cassiopé, I was having vivid dreams of her rubbing herself against me in bed, and right when I thought I was going to get lucky, she ran away.
I rub the palm of my hands against my eyes to wake me up a bit.
It smells like her.
