Damn her precision. She’d gone straight for the jugular, metaphorically at least.
He stared into her unwavering gaze, his mouth twisting. “To feel intimacy, to care for another sentient being is not something I can risk. What if I am unable to defend them, to save them? Or worse, what if I am the very thing they need saving from?”
She was silent. He hooked a finger and thumb under her jaw and raised her chin to his. Searching her face, all he saw was love, kindness—and longing. It inflamed his desire. “For all the therapy I’ve had, with you, that night, it all went to hell in a handbasket. I was back wanting what I cannot have.” He paused, his gaze taking in her bright eyes, her softly parted lips. “Even now, you see, as much as I long to kiss your lips, I also want to sink my teeth into your neck and suck your sweet blood. And I don’t know if I could stop when the time ca?—”
She moved fast, too fast, stealing the words from his mouth as she wound her fingers into his hair and brought his mouth down to meet her own.
CHAPTER 21
For a fleeting second, Clare sensed he tried to resist her kiss, and then with a groan he bruised her mouth with the intensity of his response.
Oh, and she was ready for everything he had to give.
Three years of waiting, wanting.
For them both. She knew the truth of that now.
The power of him, every pent-up corded muscle and nerve, surged through her, his strength as his arms bound her, crushing her to him—she welcomed it all, with a small mewl as their tongues dueled, the kiss deepening into something so desperate and needy that she was pressed against the wall, and already her hands were moving to tear off his shirt, rip at his belt, carnal need and desire and wantonness merging as she thrust one of her legs between his to feel the hard length of his shaft pressing into her lower belly.
His mouth explored hers with the wildest yet most tender precision, his tongue marking her as his, possessing her, the heat of his hand on her scalp, no questions, no words. She pressed against his desire, needing it, offering herself to him with so much more than her blood—with her life, her heart. Her soul. Everything.
How long they kissed like this, drenching, addictive kisses, she had no idea, because in Oliver’s embrace time lost all meaning. But she did know how feverishly she tore at his clothes, fumbled with the belt he’d just secured.
Finally, he dragged his lips from hers, put her away from him.
“This cannot happen right now.”
She slumped against the wall, letting it hold her up, her bones still liquid even when his touch had vanished.
Finally, she heard herself whine, “Then when? When will it be right for us?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, Clare. But I cannot allow either of our judgments to be clouded… by lust.”
“It’s more than lust.” She challenged him, emboldened by the kiss they’d shared. “You feel that too.”
He sighed. “Yes, I do. But feeling things has made me… unable to make good judgments. Look what happened tonight. I drank half a bottle of whiskey, I came here to check you were safe. And then… exposed both of us to a fucking stray grimaald.”
She straightened, rearranged her crumpled clothes. Tried to listen to his words, not respond to her body.
“Clare, do you understand what I’m saying here?”
Logic seeped into her cells slowly, reluctantly. She nodded.
His gaze searched her face. “Promise me something. When I leave here, you call up the department, get Trent to come fetch you. Don’t leave here on your own. Do you hear me?”
She sighed. “Yes, I hear you.”
He looked down and for a moment his eyes flared red. She saw her breasts almost exposed in her nightdress, nipples pointing sharply through the material.
His gaze was raw when she glanced up at him with a twisted little smile. “Whatever happens, I won’t regret giving you my blood,” she blushed a little, “or forcing you to kiss me.”
She heard his breath punch out of his lungs. “Ah, sweet Clare, there was no force. If only you knew how often I’ve wanted to do that…” He stroked her cheek, and she turned her head and took his finger into her mouth for a second, hoping maybe he would lose control, drag her back onto the bed and they would finally unleash what had been brewing for so many years.
But all he did was take one of her curls and gently place it around the shell of her ear with the sweetest, saddest smile.
Clare sighed. He was stronger than her. She knew that. He’d had a century to learn self-discipline.
She accompanied him out of her apartment and down the stairs to the front door, not wanting to lose the magic of what they’d shared. As she opened the door he looked up at the sky.
