Gaze darting from one bold feature to another, she finally settled on a long, almost invisible scar down the side of his chin when she breathed, “What would that entail?”
Mr. Bounds pressed his thumb into the soft flesh beneath her jaw and slowly tilted her face up, forcing her to look him in the eye. His eyelids were lowered, his lips parted, and when he leaned in to breathe against her mouth, each exhalation was a quick, hot burst.
“Have dinner with me,” he murmured. “Let me take you out and spoil you. I’ll show you what being mine would mean, and you can ask as many questions as you want. There’s nothing I won’t tell you.”
And because her brain and mouth were at war even then, she found herself blurting out, “But you don’t eveneat.”
Was it her imagination, or did Mr. Bounds’s lips curve into a real, honest-to-goodness smile against her own?
“Not food, no.” Fangs slid over the cushion of her lower lip. There was a slight sting, not enough to draw blood but certainly enough to make her shiver, and then her lip was gently sucked into the hot well of his mouth.
It wasn’t quite a kiss, but it was a touch so erotic, it nearly unwound her.
Zia whimpered, her back arching as she sought more contact. Her eyes fluttered shut as she dared to press the tips of her fingers against the curve of his jaw.
A low sound rumbled out of his throat as those fangs pressed again, a little harder than before. There was a sharp sting, then a slow, velvety drag of his tongue. One swipe. A second swipe.
He made that sound again, harsher than before, and pressed his fangs in again. Zia tensed, waiting for a real bite —wantingone with every fiber of her being — but it never came. For a suspended moment, he simply held himself there, perfectly still, with his fangs hovering on the brink of piercing her flesh.
She felt the hand cupping her throat tense before Mr. Bounds slowly withdrew, letting her lip go with an obscenepop!
“Fuck patience,” he muttered, pressing his damp lips against her ear. His voice was low and hoarse. Gone was the man who couldn’t be read. This new person had desire etched in every ragged syllable. “Dinner. Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up. If you hate it, you’ll never have to see me again. Your rose garden will be yours and I’ll never bother you for more. It will be like I never even existed.”
She heard him swallow. It was a deep, painful sound, as if he struggled to make the muscles of his throat work.
In a voice that was almost soft, he finished, “But if you want more, I’ll give youeverything.”
“Dinner,” she breathed, eyes closing. “Dinner sounds— Yes.”
“Yes?”
Damp lips skimmed over her cheek until they found hers once more. Still, he didn’t quite kiss her. Instead, he hovered, mingling their rough breaths, until she belatedly answered, “Yes, I’ll go to dinner with you.”
Only then did he tighten his grip on her neck. He dragged her closer, bending her until her face was tilted up to his liking, and then gave her the best kiss of her life.
His tongue slid past her lips to caress her own. His lips moved, gentle but firm, and he tasted like something sharp and somewhat sweet — like cold river water, or the bite of fruit just beginning to ripen.
It only lasted a moment. Before Zia could dig her fingers into his hair and give back as good as she got, he ripped his mouth from hers and took three steps back.
She opened her eyes to find Mr. Bounds standing by the greenhouse, one hand braced on the glass wall, his expression—
Well, she’d never seen an expression quite like that before. It was almostravenous.
Color rode high in his cheeks. The look in his night-glow eyes was wild. His lush lips were slightly swollen and wet. Most affecting of all was the way his chest rose and fell with each hard pant, and how the muscles of his shoulders rounded, as if he were holding himself back from lunging at her.
Prey,his stance said.You’re my prey.
Zia pressed a hand to her chest, trying and failing to get her bearings. Unbelievably, her knees wobbled. It was just one kiss, but it felt like he did much, much more.
Fingers fluttering uselessly at her throat, she gasped, “Why did you stop?”
Mr. Bounds flashed his fangs at her in a snarl that was all harsh need. “Because if I didn’t, I’d end up fucking you in this greenhouse.”
Zia trembled. Working up the last of her frayed nerves, she whispered, “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”
He let out a huff of air, almost like she’d knocked the wind out of him. “Don’t do this to me, pet. I don’t want my first taste of you to be my last.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why…”
