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“You are,” he agreed. “I’m proud of you.”
It shouldn’t have felt so good. God, I knew it shouldn’t. But his praise sank down between my legs, igniting a throb of need.
As it had countless times before.
I’d been sparring with Vinny for months now, and though I knew it was wrong, that it went against everything I believed in—and a very clear and concise law of the treaty—by the end of each training session, it took everything in me not to crawl up his body and fuck him senseless.
Glancing down, Vinny frowned at the stain of blood, then reached behind his head to grab his shirt. In one quick motion, his shirt was off and tossed aside.
I gasped and his gaze flicked to mine, but then I dropped my eyes to his bare chest. The wound had already healed, but that wasn’t what caught my breath. Muscles, distinct and hard beneath smooth, taut skin. Washboard abs. Eight of them.
A defined Adonis belt.
My mouth watered as my mind wandered.
That V was dangerous, had led me astray too many times, into thoughts I shouldn’t have about a man I shouldn’t want.
“Jacqueline,” Vinny warned.
And it was a warning.
I should heed it.
His nostrils flared. His eyes went dark, crimson sneaking in around his brown irises.
Shit.
“Jacqueline,” he said again
And oh, how delicious those three syllables sounded on his lips.
Come on, Jack, focus.
I closed my eyes and willed the sordid thoughts away as I breathed deeply and fought to calm myself. He’d hear my pulse. Smell my arousal.
Nope. Don’t think about arousal.
I strained to concentrate on anything but Vinny standing a few yards away from me, his black track pants sitting low on his perfect hips—
No, no. Focus.
To help myself, I began listing items that grossed me out or made me sad. Either would be better than lusting after a monster.
Cottage cheese.
Green olives. Bleagh.
My ex.
Black olives. What even are olives? A fruit? A nut? You can’t even eat them off the tree. How weird is that?
My sister-in-law.
My dead dog.
All dead things.
Vampires are dead.
