Page 78 of Forbidden Magic
My throat is too tight for air to flow into my lungs. “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll meet you outside.” I kiss Trent for good measure before heading toward the back.
My heels clack against the polished hardwood.
Over the squeaky-clean sinks, I let the cold water run down my wrists. I don’t have to go out there and let Trent bite me. I don’t have to lose my virginity, in any sense of the word. I can just tell him I’m tired.
Only… I’m not tired. He stuck his neck out for me when nobody else would, and I get all the rightfeelswhen we kiss.
I don’t know why I’m hesitating. Is it an unconscious fear of being bitten? Is it the sex? I feel like I’m holding out for something, but the thought is so ludicrous that I won’t allow my brain to form it.
My breaths are steady when I finally meet my gaze in the mirror. I’m going to march out there and let that sexy vampire bite me. We’ll see where that leads.
A burst of icy wind breezes between my bare legs as I exit the dining hall, and a white puff of air rises into the darkness. It’s at least ten degrees colder than when we arrived, and I tighten my jacket around my frame. There’s only one set of footsteps in the thin blanket of snow, and it’s heading toward the cliff, so I follow the trail.
I search for Trent beyond the veil of thick, silent snowflakes, but my eyes settle on a very different, disturbingly familiar pair of shoulders.
Cole is standing there in the cold, looking out at the sea, his hands shoved in his pockets. His black tuxedo blurs with the shadowy sky at his back, his polished shoes clashing against the white snow.
We’re only a few feet apart, and I stop abruptly, my legs like lead below me. My gaze searches the night, and I almost expect his friends to pop out from the sides and beat me up, but we’re alone.
The look he gives me is one of fury and rancor, as though he hates me so much it interrupted his evening, hates me enough to shove me over that cliff. He doesn’t say a word and leaps forward so fast I can’t process.
Utter shock prevents me from fleeing or attacking.
With the darkest frown twisting his face, Cole grips the sides of my head and crushes his lips to mine.
One kiss.
No preamble. No restraint.
Just lips and tongues and desire wrapped into one twisted confession.
My hands snake around his forearms, my nails digging into the expensive fabric of his jacket to push him away, but I open my mouth instead. The rush of adrenaline bashes my fears to fucking smithereens.
The soft swipes are sweeter than Fae fruit, but the harsh hand at the back of my head sings a very different tune. My palms end up flush against his chest and slip below the satin lapels of his tuxedo, searching for his heat. A hint of absinthe lingers on his breath, his spicy, natural scent playing with the strings in my belly.
He draws back, staring deep into my eyes with pride before angling my face for a deeper taste. He snakes an arm around my waist, crushing me to him. The outline of his torso sets my nerves ablaze, my breasts pushed hard against him.
There’s rage and fury in every brush, his lips cursing me in a language that’s both thrilling and foreign, his tongue claiming my mouth with a dark possessiveness that scares me to my core. The kiss sparks a white-hot trail of fire from my mouth to my navel. The desperate clutch of his hands at my sides howls for my complete and total submission.
The steel grasp doesn’t relent, and I find myself tugging on his dark curls, pulling him closer, not away.
He growls and nips my bottom lip.
I rake my nails across his neck.
We spur each other on until we’re out of breath, his tux wrinkled, my jacket half-torn from my shoulders.
It’s rough and messy and fucking unbelievable.
So impossible, so wrong, so forbidden.
But oh-so-good.
My mind rears its head in the chaos.
We vowed to tear each other down.
Why am I still kissing him?
