Page 37 of Forever Midnight

“I don’t know why or how, Tru, but I do believe our paths crossed for a reason. I want to understand why. Don’t you?”

I nod, biting my bottom lip. This close, Midnight is hypnotic, his voice soothing some chaotic mess inside me. His eyes see through to my soul, to who I really am beyond who I’ve been told to be. His lips, full and lush, tempt me to taste them. I find myself swaying closer to him, like I’ve had too much to drink.

“So pretty,” Midnight whispers, sliding his hand up my neck and into my hair. “So…familiar. Do you feel that too?”

“Familiar?”

He nods. “I’m thinking crazy thoughts. I do find you appealing though.”

“Appealing?”

He chuckles. “You’re gorgeous, Tru.”

I can sense the heat moving up my neck and onto my cheeks. It’s not like no one’s ever told me I’m hot before, but something about it coming from Midnight just feels different. Better. Special.

“You’re hot too, Midnight.”

His smile grows. “Thank you.”

As he moves closer, I close my eyes and part my lips, more than ready for him to kiss me, but as his lips land on my forehead, I frown, opening my eyes.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Midnight teases. “I’m not taking advantage of you.”

“Uh, I didn’t think you were. You didn’t want to kiss me?”

Midnight’s expression softens, practically melting into something so sensual and inviting my stomach actually fucking flutters.

“I do want to kiss you, Tru. Very much so.”

“So do it.”

His hand grips the back of my neck, holding me steady as his gaze roams across my face. “Mon petit chaton féroce. Accepting my kiss is not for the faint of heart. My affection is not casual. I don’t fuck and move on.”

Searching his eyes, I draw closer to him. “Say that again.”

“Which part?”

“The French part.”

“Mon petit chaton féroce?”

Rubbing my knuckles over my sternum, I nod. “I really like that. I wouldn’t like being called a little kitten in English.”

Midnight chuckles. “Fierce little kitten. It’s fitting. What you lack in stature, you make up for in character.”

I laugh, still rubbing my chest. “I feel funny inside when you speak French to me. Maybe because it’s just hot.”

“Perhaps,” Midnight says, lifting my hand and kissing my knuckles.

His warning a few minutes ago knocks around in my head, but in spite of it, I push forward, slamming my lips against his. Midnight stiffens, pulling back abruptly, and I think I know why. If he felt what I did, it was like an electric shock.

I touch my lips. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Midnight whispers, but his eyes are filled with concern. “I think we should—”

A hard knock on the door interrupts him. He rises, moving so quickly I barely register it. I hear muffled voices in the foyer, then Midnight returns.

“I’ll be right back,” he says. “Quick business meeting.”

---