Page 34 of Lair

I know what’s next.

But the moment passes; he makes no move. He studies me with a strange, reserved expression that’s somehow pained, as if I’m a torment to him. What was I thinking?

You’ll never do better than me, Josh’s voice taunts.

“Well,” I blurt shakily, lifting my flats, and his face changes. “Thanks for a special night.” I turn hurriedly away—

And then his hand is gripping my arm, whirling me back to him, and our teeth click as our lips come together.

It’s so sudden it takes me a moment to process what’s happened. Our eyes are wide open, and we regard each other warily as always. There’s a faint bite, his teeth pull at my bottom lip and let go, and chills spread. My nipples perk. My toes curl into the carpet. My tongue checks for blood, but he was too soft, too careful for that. His lashes lower, and he leans in again. My mind reels, desperate for answers, and it’s only when his mouth slides against mine, gently, intoxicatingly urging it open, that it hits me.

He’s kissing me. Adrian Voper. Adrian. Kissing me.

My flats drop from nerveless fingers to the floor. I’m frozen, entranced. For a moment, I’m at a loss as to what to do. But Adrian isn’t; far from it. His lips teach me. This is what it’s really like to be kissed, they say. This is what it’s like to be kissed by a man who wants you.

Let it happen. Drink me in. Let me lick you, bite you, possess you.

Okay.

I grip the lapels of his suit, pulling him close as I arc into him, filling myself with his scent. He smells of dead flowers, tastes like the cold, sweet air in a well, sharp and clean. God, I’ve never been kissed like this before. This is nothing like the clumsy declarations of need from the farm boys in Oregon. Nothing like Josh. This—this is decadent. It’s as if I’m some dessert melting in the sun that he’s licking up, and he doesn’t want to waste a drop. I’m a rarity. I’m being discovered. I have become his world.

How could I ever want this to end?

But it does. When he pulls away to look in my eyes I sway after him, drunk with sensation, lips still parted. I let out a little indignant sound of frustration and loss, and his eyes glint with amusement. He dips his head, lips grazing my ear, down my neck, breathing me in, and I shiver. Pale fingers glide down me, tracing quivering arteries, the hollow of my throat, the swell of my breasts in my dress, and he sighs. His body is pressed against mine, and everywhere we touch I grow warm. I wait, breath held, aching for what’s next. I am overcome with a rush of helplessness, a sinking yielding that leaves me limp. What has he done to me?

Then he’s gone. His fine fingers curl away, as if restraining themselves. He draws back, his dark eyes returning to their normal, vivid blue, cleared of a fervent hunger. He smiles a sharp smile. “I didn’t want you to think I was uninterested.”

“Oh,” I wheeze, struggling in vain to regain the ability of speech. “Yeah. That was, uh... yeah. Mission accomplished.”

His eyes crinkle. “Good night, Aurora,” he says, and flows like liquid shadow down the passageway. Gone.

When I shut the cabin door and lean against it, I can’t help it—I jump up and down in a little dance of glee, pumping my fists in the air like a crazy woman.

So this is life. Crackling with possibility, bursting at the seams with happiness.

I could get used to this.

There’s a polite rap on the door, and I instantly default to ground-based normalcy. Clearing my throat and finger-combing my hair, I open the door, expecting to see an amused Adrian Voper, eyes bright with a change in plans.

But I don’t. It’s Jason, looking jumpy, unsure, concerned. “Hey,” he says.

“Hellooo,” I caution. “What’s up?”

He glances in the direction of Adrian’s suite. “I, uh, wanted to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

I’ve never seen him like this. He looks pale, almost frightened. He runs a hand through his sandy hair. “Look, it isn’t easy to tell you this. But I wanted to warn you—”

“Warn me?”

“Yeah. Voper, he—you shouldn’t see him—”

I place a hand on my hip, brow arched. “I think I can make that decision for myself, thanks.”

He huffs out a breath, nods, a guilty, dorky grin spreading across his face. “Right. Of course. I just think you should know everything before making that decision.”

I try to sense what’s behind all this, this aggressive, presumptuous persistence—and it clicks. “Look, Jason,” I sigh. “I like you, okay? But you had your chance—”

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