Page 63 of Bite Me

“Why is that?”

“For someone who wants to bite me so badly, I’d expect you to seduce me or something to get it.”

By her tone, I know she’s joking. But it’s the way her arousal springs forward into the air and takes all my sanity with it.

“Seduce you? You think I want you?”

“I think you want my blood.”

“Nothing else?”

Her heart races when I don’t so much as move an inch away from her.

She’s testing me, so I’ll test her. I run a finger along the crown of her head and down to her ear.

“If I’d known seducing you was on the table . . .”

“W-what are you doing?” Her heart is racing.

“Seducing you.”

There’s no attempt to step back. Not even a brief tensing of muscle as I trace her jaw. It’s all I could think about after last night. Tasting her skin once was never going to be enough for me.

“You’re the one who told me to forget about the contract.”

“So you would have done it . . . Let me drink from you?”

She shakes her head, not looking at me. “I don’t know. I mean, yes, when I thought it would get me what I want.”

“And now?”

I can’t stop touching this woman. Why can’t I stop? Why can’t I just do what’s asked of me?

I thought it was her scent, and it is. That’s an impossible, maddening factor in this equation. But now, it’s just her. The way she’s looking at me. The way I need to explore that curiosity in her eyes.

I tug at her chin. Does it feel the same way it does for me? As if she’s the only person who exists? The only thing that matters and will ever matter again? As if her scent is holding my head underwater, and I can’t resurface until I give in? Till I’m fully in her space, and she’s in mine?

“Why are you doing this?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I want to taste your blood.” I rub over the skin of her neck. “Since, according to you, I’m so obsessed.”

I trace the veins on her neck. “Will you let me?”

Her breath comes faster as I lean in closer. I won’t kiss her, but I think about it. Her lips are forbidden, tempting and wet.

“Where is all that fight, thief?”

She huffs, backing against the counter when I move my finger up her arm. It’s still not a retreat. There’s no indication she wants me to stop as her arousal slowly creeps into my head, and I forget where we are or why I needed to stay away from her in the first place.

“When are you going to stop calling me that?”

“When will you stop stealing my things?”

She watches me as I drag a finger down her sternum toward the hem of her shirt.

Say something, Emma. Come on.

“Stop teasing me and just do it.”