He looks almost sad, though not like he’s about to cry. His eyes are wider, sparkling with something different than flirtation and desire. Even with this look, he is stunning, more attractive than any man I’ve ever seen or met before. This soft side he’s giving me a peek of makes my heart ache for him.
“As you can imagine, my parents didn’t take it too well when I was turned. The times were different back then compared to now, so I don’t hold it against them,” Emris reveals.
Without thinking, I reach across the table, palm up and open for him to take. His eyes dart between my hand and face, his shoulders straightening as he drops his fork to slip his hand into mine.
His touch is cool, yet the same heat as before rushes through me as we make contact. I give a slight squeeze while his thumb traces circles on the side. His hands are soft, and much larger than mine. I wonder what else they can do.
“Are you done with your meal?” he asks, and I look down at my plate.
There’s barely anything left, just a few brussels sprouts that didn’t make the cut. It was just the right amount of food, and so delicious I thought I might be in heaven. I give him a nod.
“Would you like dessert?” He leans slightly forward, making my heart pound.
I angle toward him, my face only a foot away from his, trying to sound as seductive as I can when I whisper, “I was going to ask you that question.”
His eyes burn with something as he stares back at me, gaze darting from my eyes to my lips to my neck, then back up. He knows exactly what I’m offering, and I can tell it caught him off guard.
The desire within me, the need to feel him, touch him, it’s enough to make me throw out my own rules. Leaning closer, lifting myself out of my seat, I tease him by getting within kissing distance, but not making the final move.
He smiles, a small chuckle escaping him. It sends tingles throughout my body, and I have to fight every urge inside of me that wants to just plaster myself on those full lips of his. Instead, I wait, hovering there to see what he’ll do.
Slowly, he closes the remaining distance between us, his lips gently grazing mine, their touch cool. He presses his mouth to mine, kissing me softly, something I wouldn’t have expected from a man like him. From a vampire. His taste is sweet and makes me want more.
I lean into it, kissing him more intensely. He matches my energy, his soft kiss becoming more commanding, more demanding, like he’s been thirsty and deprived of water for centuries.
My stomach presses against the edge of the table as I sink into the kiss, my heart pounding, a fluttering beginning between my legs. The once cool air around us now feels hot, as if steam is forming around us.
My body moves on its own, rising from my chair while keeping my lips pressed to his, devouring each kiss. I find my way to his lap, sliding into it and wrapping my arms around his neck, my hands travelling up into his hair.
He grips my waist, squeezing but staying put. Respectful, even through the hunger of his kisses and lustful gaze, he doesn’t risk anything.
The problem is, I want him to risk everything.
I reach down, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand away from my waist. As soon as I give him the green light, his hand moves up to my breast, squeezing and massaging it with a gentle intensity.
His other hand travels downward, gripping at my hip and pulling me closer. Our kisses become faster, his tongue begging for entrance to my mouth. I tease for a moment, denying him entry.
The sound he lets out sets me on fire, heat growing between my legs. His growl is practically a whimper. I part my lips more, allowing his tongue into my mouth. His sweetness turns savory, his tongue chasing mine.
Much to my dismay, his hand leaves my breast. There’s a crashing sound behind me, and before I can register what it is, both his hands are on my waist, hoisting me from his lap to sit on the edge of the table.
The gasp that leaves my lips gives him the opening he must’ve been hoping for. His lips move to my neck, sucking gently as he travels downward. My fingers intertwine in his hair.
His fingertips trace the straps on my dress, slowly pushing them off of my shoulders. I tilt my head back as his lips graze the skin on my collarbone, each touch sending chills through my bones.
I lace my fingers tighter, a silent plea for him to continue, but he pulls away, his hands firm on my hips. His eyes burn with desire, with an unquenchable fire, as he stares into me.
Slowly, he brings his lips to my ear, whispering in a husky voice, “You never rush a man when he’s having dessert.”
He nips at my earlobe, his fangs grazing my skin tenderly. Chills run through me again, a wave of excitement following closely. His kisses trail down the side of my neck once more, this time, each one with a slight nibble from his fangs.
Each pinch gives me a rush like nothing I’ve felt before, the danger yet security of being in his grasp giving me a high. I want him, and I want him to want me. Every tingle from his lips making me squirm more and more.
His cool hands pull at my dress, finding their way into my bra. He caresses me gently, his fingertips playing with my nipples, twisting and turning them, his touch soft yet eager and controlling, driving me crazy.
There’s a prick at my neck, his fangs ever so slightly pressing into my skin. I move back slightly, shaking my head at him and dropping my eyes down to my chest. He doesn’t hesitate, his lips leaving tiny kisses as they make their way to my nipple.
He sucks hard, his fingers matching pace on my other breast, and my head tips back as the sensation begins to overtake me. His tongue makes circles around my nipple, his fangs poking at me as he takes a nibble.
