Just months before I start medical school in Boston, I decide to let loose for one night. A dark club, a loud band, strong drinks--and the attention of a dangerous-looking man who says he's in the city for only a week.
I know exactly what he is: a...
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Why am I kissing Matteo?
Why did I throw myself at him not a half hour after arriving?
Why do I crave the feel of his lips against mine?
We kiss for several long seconds, slow and languid, as the flames nearby crackle and flare. He slides his hand over the side of my neck and jaw, and his touch leaves a trail of heat. He digs his fingers into my flesh. Yes. Yes. Yes. This is what I want. This, I could become addicted to.
Perhaps I already am.
His tongue finds mine, swiping and teasing. I gently bite his bottom lip. He bites mine in response and I suck in a breath, anticipating the other bites to come.
"Did you like that?" he whispers against my mouth.
"I did."
"Do you like it rough?"
I don't exactly know what to respond. Whenever I've made out with a guy, I've enjoyed some mild hair pulling and the occasional pinning of my wrists. Mostly I've loved the visual of a man's bigger hands trapping mine.
But this man, this vampire, likely has a whole other definition of rough.
"I think I do," I finally say.
"That's good to hear." His response is barely audible, strained, even.
Then he stops, and puts his forehead against mine, and sighs.
"So this is why you came over? To fuck?" he murmurs.
I sit back, needing space, needing to collect myself. My heart's thrashing wildly, and not just because of the kiss. Something about being here, in this library, with that fire, in a beautiful Beacon Hill townhouse makes everything seem so much more intimate.
Can I admit that I would fuck him here and now? It seems so out of character for me. But I don't want just sex...
I lick my lips. "I don't know. I came here because you invited me, remember? And I was intrigued. And because I wanted to see you."
Needed to see you.
He traces my kneecap with his index finger. "Interesting. Can you tell me more?"
I huff out a little laugh. "What is this, therapy? That's something my mother would say."
His right eyebrow lifts. "Oh?"
"Yeah, she's a therapist." I pause. "It's a pain in the ass because she's always asking me to get in touch with my feelings."
"So you don't like to talk about feelings?" He takes a sip of his coffee and scoots next to me, so we're both sitting side-by-side. His instant, friend zone voice, makes me wonder if I've killed the mood.
I lift a shoulder. "It's not that. I guess I'm feeling something different around you and..."
My voice trails off. It's never a good idea to tell a guy that you're into them this early. God, we've only seen each other twice. What the hell am I doing? My cheeks flare with heat, and not because of the nearby fireplace.
The whispers of my mother's advice when I went off to college — don't be too interested in a man, you have to play hard to get — echo in my brain.
"And?" Matteo asks.
"Why do you care so much about what I'm feeling? Most guys don't."
He lets out a genuine laugh. "I think you'll find that I'm not like most men, Evangeline."
Well, duh, I want to say. But don't. Because it's quite important that I don't let on about the obvious. That he's a vampire, and I want him to turn me into a vampire. The sex is just a bonus, not the end game.
We sip coffee in awkward silence.
I didn't think it would be this difficult to persuade a seemingly horny vampire guy to bite me. Thoughts race through my mind, all centered around the refrain of what's wrong with me, and do I smell or taste bad? Why the hell isn't he jumping my bones? Isn't the scent of my blood enticing enough? Shame, shame, shame.
I set the coffee back down.
"I'm attracted to you," I blurt. Sometimes I do that when I'm nervous. Kerri calls it word vomiting. "That's the truth. I know that probably makes me less alluring or something, but whatever."
In a flash, he wraps his hand around the back of my neck and tugs me toward him. The move is so sudden, so quick, that I don't have time to gasp. Our faces are an inch apart, and I can feel my heartbeat in my throat.
"Evangeline." His voice is both a low growl, and a command, and in that moment I realize that I'll do anything this man asks. "Never apologize for your desires."
