So I do.
17
Chapter 17
Marcus
I’mstillwatchingherwhen her eyes flutter open. Watching as she draws in a startled little breath as she blinks at me in alarm. She’s beautiful as she wakes, her skin like porcelain, flawless aside from the tiny smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
“What are you doing here?” Auburn brows pull together above eyes like the depths of the ocean. “Did you come back?”
“I never left.” I brush a stray curl from her cheek. It’s silky.
“But…” Her eyes dart to the firmly drawn drapes. “I thought you people couldn’t be out during the day.”
“Wepeople,” I pause, settling back into the cushions and pulling her with me, “can do whatever we want during the day. As long as it doesn’t involve sunlight.”
“So I’m guessing kite-surfing is out.”
I chuckle. “That and sunbathing.”
“Figures,” she says, running a fingertip over my chest. “That’s probably why you look so good for your age.”
I slide a hand behind my head and stretch. It’s been a long time since I felt this comfortable in my own skin. “Yep. That’s what the honeys always tell me.”
“The honeys?” she snorts, then pinches my nipple. Hard. I flinch, though it doesn’t hurt. In fact, I feel a stirring down below. “You’re arrogant, you know that?”
“Is that meant to be an insult?” I like the way she’s pressed against me. Something is definitely stirring. Stiffening.
“Oh, my God,” she laughs. “You think that just because you’re pretty—”
“You think I’m pretty?” I bat my lashes at her.
“Marcus Nightshade! You are a…a…”
“Knuckle-dragging vampire twatwaffle?” I raise an eyebrow.
She makes a choking sound. “Oh, my God, you remembered that.”
“How could I forget?” I trace her jaw with my fingertip. “But then, I remember everything about you, Kara.”
“You do?” Her eyes are wide. I lean in and brush my lips over hers, marveling at how soft and plump they are. How warm.
“Yes, I do,” I say against her mouth.
“I’m flattered,” she whispers back a moment before I cover her lips.
I kiss her deeply, savoring the taste of her lips, the way she responds with a soft moan. My hand finds her shoulder, cupping it before sliding lower, fingertips trailing over her silken skin. Each touch ignites something within me, something I’ve never felt before in all my centuries.
She presses closer, her palm sliding down my chest. The warmth of her touch sets a trail of fire down my skin. I can feelher heart racing, her breath catching as my hand moves lower, tracing the delicate curve of her shoulder blade.
“Marcus,” she breathes against my mouth.
I capture her lips again, harder this time. Her tongue meets mine, and the taste of her – sweet, intoxicating honey – makes my head spin. My fingers ghost over her flesh, mapping every inch, memorizing the way she trembles at my touch.
Her hand continues its exploration of my chest, nails scraping lightly across my skin. The sensation sends jolts of pleasure through my body. I deepen the kiss, drowning in the feel of her, the scent of her, the way her magic throbs in harmony with mine. I fight to maintain control as she traces each ridge of muscle, exploring with a deliberate slowness that’s pure torture.
My breath catches as her hand dips lower, trailing over my abs. They twitch reflexively under her touch. My skin feels hypersensitive to every brush of her fingertips.
