Winnie nods. Her golden hair in its tight, no-nonsense ponytail shifts against me, and I’m aware ofeverysingle detailof her.
Her hair tickling my chest through my thin silk shirt. Her fingers in mine, skin soft but her grip firm and determined. The way she sets her jaw when she concentrates on the pot, dedicating her whole self – body and heart and mind – to whatever task she’s trying to accomplish. The curve of her perfect plump arse between my thighs. The draw I feel to this woman is taking my breath away.
It takes me a moment to remember how to move my foot. I press lightly on the pedal, keeping the wheel moving at a fast but steady pace. Winnie pushes into the clay, and this time the clay complies, forming a tall cone.
“That’s good. You’re doing well.”
I wrap my arms around her, slipping my hands in hers and showing her how to level off the top and smooth the edges as she flattens the cone. The hunger is a living thing inside me. My mind fills with such depraved, delicious, distracting thoughts that she twists against me to get my attention.
“Earth to Alaric – what do I do next?”
I want you to stop wriggling your derrière against me unless you want me to bury myself in it.
“Dig your fingers into the centre,” I explain, biting my fangs into my lip.This was a bad, bad idea.“This will create a hole.”
Winnie laughs as she presses her thumbs into the clay and it opens up, creating the hole for her pot. I wallow in the strawberry scent of her, drowning in the feeling of her warm body against mine. I never thought I’d be allowed to be close to something so sweet and perfect andhuman.
“I can’t believe I did it!” After a few minutes, Winnie pulls her fingers – and mine – away. Her pot immediately implodes. “Oh, no— I didn’t do it.”
“That happens sometimes. The wall was a little thin. The clay could have been more centred on the bat, or you might like to bring your elbows together for more control. Would you like to try again?” I ask, shifting behind her in an attempt to hide my arousal. “Or perhaps you’d liketo return to work?”
Perhaps her idea about throwing all the pots against the wall would help burn off this need …
“I want to try again.” Winnie grabs a handful of clay. This time, she doesn’t make a face.
“Do you want to control the pedal?—”
“Please, stay with me.”
Winnie drops her clay cone on the bat. I pump the pedal as she shapes her pot and hollows it. This time, when she takes her hands away, it doesn’t fall.
“Alaric, look! I did it! I can’t believe it. You’re right, thisisfun?—”
Her scent shifts, strawberries ripening into something darker. She twists her neck to look at me, presenting me with the tantalising virgin skin of her neck and the pulsing liquid heat beneath. Her golden eyes are nearly black with pupil.
When she looks like that, I amgone, and I can no longer hold myself back from doing what I’ve dreamed about since the moment I first saw her in that pub.
I rock forward, pressing myself against her as my lips meet hers.
This kiss is nothing like the one we shared in the Rose & Wimple, when I sought only to protect her from Danny, when I had no idea how sweet the forbidden could taste.
This kiss is purehunger.
I taste the softness of her mouth, flooding my tangled senses with ripe strawberries and pulsing, warm blood.
My fangs are still lowered. At any moment she could feel them or nick herself on them, and then she would know my secret. The edge of danger only makes me pull her closer. Part of mewantsher to find them, to know me truly as I am and still to press her body to mine and moan her delicious little pleasures against my lips.
The dark, twisted part of me is ready to be vulnerable for her.
I brace myself for her to pull away, to run, to declare me the monster that I am, but then Winnie moans into my mouth, her whole body clenching with need, unfolding against me as if she’s been waiting centuries for someone worthy to draw those sinfulsounds from her body.
I think of her alone in the dark, facing her nightmares with the same grim determination that she brings to everything she does, and I don’t recognise myself through my rage.
I will find who hurt her and I willdevour them.
I may be a monster, but if she would be mine, I would behermonster?—
“Alaric,” Winnie breathes. “Please …”
