Page 117 of Even Vampires Bleed
It looks like she’s doing everything in her power to keep her eyes open, to stay focused and have that conversation with me.
It makes me feel like she both loves my hand on her and doesn’t want it to happen.
My heart stumbles at that possibility.
“I can’t, Léandre. I can’t.” She sounds pained as she says that, and all I want is to know what is stopping her. All I want is to make things right and to make her feel better.
“Tell me what is wrong, Firefly,” I say, or more like softly demand. “What can I do to make you want this?”
I sound desperate—and maybe I am—but I don’t want to see her in pain. At the same time, I feel like an asshole for prying the information out of her.
“Nothing,” she answers, and I’m not sure which question she’s answering, but her mouth is contorting in what can only be pain.
I tuck my hand between her arm and her waist and tug her to me, but I’m stopped by both her hands on my chest and a hell of a resistance, so I don’t force her to me.
My heart breaks a bit this time.
“Stop,” she pleads, and I’m taken aback.
I thought that with what I had seen this afternoon, this conversation would go a lot better.
Hell, I didn’t even think there would be a conversation.
I thought it was easy. I like her, and she seems to like me, too, so why is it so difficult?
“Just let me hold you,” I tell her and once again I feel like I’m pleading with her for this.
Didn’t she want this, too?
I don’t know what to think anymore.
I’m lost.
My hand is still on her waist, and I have the feeling I should let her go and just turn on my side, but maybe I’m an asshole after all, because all I do is slip my hand under the hem of her tank top and hold her hip as my thumb moves on her skin with lazy strokes.
I don’t know what’s stopping her from giving in, but something must be at war inside of her because she doesn’t ask me to stop this time.
“Léandre.”
My name is like a prayer in her mouth, but I’m not sure I understand it.
I let my hand wander a bit higher and reach her waist under her tank top. The skin is so smooth, and I’m taking my time so she can make me stop if she wants.
“Tell me to stop, Firefly. Tell me, because I wish I was a better man, but I want you so much, and I’ll take whatever you’ll let me have.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, I reach the side of her breast and let my thumb stroke the underside of it.
It’s a mistake.
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Cassiopé
He wants me, but he doesn’t know.
My throat is tight, as if constricted by all the words that want to tumble out of my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Then where his hand is going starts registering in my mind.
