Page 35 of Bite Me

“No.”

She likes to hang out with her friends and drink, but she almost never gets drunk. Every night after drinking, she goes to Luxxia’s kitchen and drinks her water and recovery potions before sleeping, telling her friends she’s got to go because she has to get up early. Emma is too busy to wake up with a hangover; she’s always up early to study and volunteer and takes more classes than most students I know.

Something in her scent catches my attention. It’s better today. So much so that I understand why I was fantasizing about licking her back earlier because I’m doing it again. She must be close to ovulating.

“I know why you’re here . . . And I know it’s not for the party because you hate parties and you have no friends.” She smiles, so self-assured.

I think she’s trying to get under my skin with that very well-known fact, but it doesn’t land.

“Do tell.”

“All of this . . . You pretending to take care of me. The proposal. All of it is just because you really want to bite me, but you don’t want to admit it.”

“The words of a drunk.” I scoff.

She shakes her head playfully. “It’s true. It’s all you think about. I see you staring at me all the time. You want something from me.”

Can she read minds now? What the fuck?

“Yeah? You like that, huh? What exactly do you think I think about, Em?”

She smiles. “I like that more . . . when you call me by my nickname.”

“I’ll be sure not to use it then, thief.”

Her eyes brim with fire. “You know what I think . . . I think you think about me all the time. Getting me alone . . . to taste my blood. That’s your master plan.”

“I’ve already had you alone. Many times.”

“But not like you want it . . . right?”

Emma flutters her lashes at me, pushing out her chest. She’s fucking with me. Teasing me as if I were some feral dog, and I hate that it’s working. I hate that I’m falling into her hands like soft, squishy dough. But she’s falling into me, too. Her scent is growing stronger with arousal.

I don’t dare touch her. That would be a betrayal of everything I’ve established, a crack in the wall I’ve built so this wouldn’t happen.

The truth still stands. There’s this deep ache in my gut from the knowledge that Emma being in my life will lead to ruin.

“What is the best way to taste blood?” She moves her hair from her neck and moves in till she’s below me, looking up through her lashes. I can see down her shirt.

Our height difference is not that extreme, so I’m staring at her neck.

“Go on. Tell me. Is it the neck . . . or the wrist?”

I swallow, all the while fighting the urge to tug at the back of her hair and lick her neck. She’s flirting. At least she’s drunk and has a good excuse; I’m just the definition of pathetic.

I test brushing my fingers over her neck, right where her pulse drums, and she arches. So much for my no touching rule.

Her scent tells me she’s into this. Emma likes me touching her. A simple fact that seems to rearrange the stars all at once.

“Like this?” She angles down her dress strap so I have an unrestricted view of her collarbone and the top of her breast. We’re making a scene. There are probably pictures being taken, but stars above, I want to rest my lips on her skin. My dick is throbbing against my zipper.

When I don’t say anything, she smiles.

“This is embarrassing for you.”

“Yeah? Is that why your heart is pounding and your eyes are dilating when I touch you?”

She blushes as my touch runs along her collarbone. I’m in a fucking trance. My dignity is nowhere to be found, but as the seconds tick by, I care less and less. How can something so complicated become so simple? She wants me to touch her, so I do.