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Vincent kisses me back for a moment before he tugs his head away. I know the moment I see that satisfied look on his face that he’s about to say something that has me rolling my eyes again—and I’m right when he points out, “Technically, I’m not. Your mate, I mean.”

What the⁠—

“Why not?”

He grins. “Because we haven’t actually mated yet.”

Duh. Of course he would think that.

I stare at him in disbelief.

Bending his head, he rests his forehead against the top of my hairline. “Hey. Don’t look at me like that. You said you weren’t ready. That’s okay. I meant what I said. I’ll wait.” His smile turns softer. “I have all the time in the world now.”

“Yeah, but now that we’re not running out of time and I can decide it’s time…” I let my voice trail to a close, heavy on the innuendo. And then— “Vincent?”

“Yes, pumpkin?”

“It’s time.”

I watch as understanding slowly dawns on his face, smiling up at him with a dare to refuse me written on his face.

He doesn’t. Then again, he doesn’t do anything. For once, Vincent Morrow—the arrogant, cocky former cat, current warlock who has had an answer for absolutely everything since he appeared naked in my kitchen—doesn’t know how to react.

That’s okay.

I do.

Grabbing his hand, I yank gently on it until he gets the hint and starts shuffling his feet behind me. Leaving the living room behind us, I guide him toward my bedroom.

Our bedroom.

Only when I park him by the edge of the bed, kicking the door shut with my bare foot, then grin up at him does say anything at all.

He stumbles over my name. “Kate?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you⁠—”

I shut him up when I curve my hand around his neck, pulling him down so that I can kiss him again at the same time as I work my thigh between his closed legs, bumping his groin with my knee.

If I had any doubt that Vincent isn’t as interested in sleeping with me as I am screwing his brains out, they would’ve disappeared in an instant once I found that he’s already hard as a damn rock.

He’s also very sensitive, I think. That, or he’s shocked that I drew both of our attention to his hard-on in such an obvious way.

Vincent jerks back, his eyes wide in surprise as he steps back, putting some space between us.

Okay. Not the reaction I was expecting from the man who offered to show me his penis so that I could make sure he was intact, but I guess there’s a difference between trying to attract me when he believed he didn’t have a prayer and now, when I’m such a sure thing, I don’t know why I’m still wearing clothes. I’d changed out of my street clothes and the flour-dusted apron after we returned to the apartment. I’m wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, similar to what I had on last night. All of a sudden, though, it seems like way too much.

However, seeing that Vincent is still wearing the same black tee and jeans that he conjured last night after I freaked out, seeing him naked, I decide that he’s definitely overdressed, too. In fact, thinking about last night gives me an idea, but first…

Hoping that I’m not being too forward—and praying that his offer from last night translates to consent now—I ghost my fingers over the bulge in his jeans. Then, in my most alluring voice, I ask, “Can I touch it?”

His Adam’s apple bobs roughly as he takes a ragged swallow. “I’m yours, pumpkin. You pet me when I was a cat. You sure as hell have my permission to pet me now that I’m a man.”

That’s just what I wanted to hear.

“Good,” I tell him and take a good handful of his erect cock before releasing it just as quickly.