A low whistle escapes me at the sheer opulence and luxury of the condo.
Damn.
I suppose living forever means you have a long ass time to amass a fortune. Maybe the shift will help Casey finally reach his money goals.
Although I’m not sure his goals will still be the same.
Casey.
Fuck.
It’s all my fault. And stewing in it won’t help him. I need to get my head clear, to do something. My eyes scan the room andland on fresh towels stacked on a built-in shelf, also covered in marble, beside a large tiled shower.
New plan. I’ll wash this vomit stink off me, then I’ll make my demands. Offering my blood as payment on an empty stomach seems like a spectacularly bad idea, so maybe food first. But after that, he’s going to listen.
I step into the huge shower stall, turning the water to hot and stepping under the steaming spray when it’s warm enough.
Best idea ever.
Stark really knows how to pamper himself.
Hold up. Do vampires shower? Or use the bathroom? Or even sleep?
Why does he even have a condo?
My eyes land on a small, empty vase on the vanity, perfectly placed for a single flower. And somehow, I know the answer.
It’s not for him. None of it is for him.
And that thought leaves a strange bitterness in my mouth.
I’m halfway through washing my hair when the shower stall door opens, and a bright-eyed Casey steps in, completely naked, looking a million times better.
“Casey!” I throw myself at him, relief so sharp it steals my breath. I don’t care that we’re both naked, and I’m covered in soap. He’s standing. He’s walking. He’s alive. The stupid boundaries I’d set for us crumble into dust. He’s the only thing that matters. My best friend, the one person who gets me like no one else.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, Case. I’ve been so worried.”
And I kiss him then, deeply, completely, and he lets me, his arms coming up to encircle me, bringing me closer, our wet naked skin molding into each other like it was always meant to.
A soft growl escapes him, his teeth biting my lower lip possessively and making me gasp.
Unlike last time, he takes charge, pushing me against the wall and devouring my mouth in a way that has me breathless and dizzy, but that sends delicious warmth down my core.
A moan escapes me as his lips move to my ear, down my neck, my throat.
He pauses, drawing a deep, shuddering breath, then another, a soft growl escaping him.
“God, Kallie, you smell so fucking delicious.”
He nips at my skin, making me yelp in surprise, then does it again, harder this time.
Le fucking ouch. That’s going to leave a bruise.
Internal alarm bells start ringing, and I push at his chest to create distance, wanting to see what has him so worked up suddenly.
This is so… un-Casey.
Stark’s words from the car echo in my head—that Casey would crave my blood, that he’d “have to get in line.”
