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She shivers when I say her name, and the way her body trembles gives me a sense of sick satisfaction, like I may be under her skin like she’s under mine.
“Tell me why you’re holding back.”
She pulls at her bottom lip with her teeth, and I can’t stop a groan. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to go without having a taste. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself once I do.
“I’m not looking to put any roots in this freaking town,” she admits.
I grin. “Good thing I’m passing by, then.”
“But…”
“Esmeralda,” I purr, and that shuts her up.
Her hand flies to her mouth to silence a moan but I’m quicker, grabbing her wrist and holding it against the wall.
“Tell me you don’t feel how electric we are.” I wish that could be a lie.
She shakes her head. “I think you might destroy me.”
How close to the truth she is. I let my face drop centimeters from her mouth. “But what a way to go that would be.”
Her eyes dart from my own to my lips a few times, but I don’t need to push her any further. She lifts on her tiptoes so her mouth grazes mine. The flavor of her lips is what I expect her desire would taste like straight from her throat, so I drink it in as deep as I can. I let her wrist go to dig my fingers in her hip. Esmeralda moans low against my mouth, and her hand finds the back of my neck, pulling me closer to her.
I’m all too happy to oblige, letting my tongue dart out to taste the inside of her mouth. She finds it with hers and then it’s like we’re battling for power. I feel the warmth of her core through her clothes. And fuck, but it’s making me hard.
We’re desperate for each other, all tongues and teeth. She lets her brown bag fall to the ground to twist her fingers in my hair. I let my hand snake from her hip to outside her thigh to raise it to my waist.
She pulls her lips away to throw her head back in a moan. I’m too hungry for her though, so I keep my mouth against her skin, traveling down her jaw, to her neck. Her pulse begs me to tap into her life source, have the best feeding of my life. Denying my urges is getting damn near impossible.
Esmeralda moans my name. “Right there.”
“No,” I say, stilling my movements. “Not here and not like this.”
I let her leg go to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “That was a tiny taste. Go out with me if you want more.”
Her arms are around my neck, and she tries to pull my mouth back to hers, but her strength is no match for mine, and I don’t budge an inch. She groans. “Please.”
“A date, Esmeralda.” So I may start to peel back your layers, get to the center of your desires. So I may use it against you.
She bites her lips again, which are now red and swollen and sloppily glistening. Finally, she nods, and I feel like I’m a thousand feet tall. “Yes, okay, fine. A date.”
I let her leg slide down my body until both feet are on the ground and lean down for one last chaste peck to her lips, before stepping back and picking up her food. When I hand it to her, she grabs it in a daze. I hate admitting that I like her like that, mindless for me.
A long time ago, I swore I’d never trick a competitor into playing by seducing them, because offering myself as the prize was a bargain I couldn’t fulfill. But with Esmeralda, I don’t feel as though I’m seducing her for the curse. In fact, for a moment while our bodies were pressed against each other, I forgot about all of it.
A lapse in judgment I can’t afford.
Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I unlock it and hand it to her, making sure her grip on it is secure before letting go. “Your number.”
She watches it numbly for a moment, then starts typing. A grin spreads on my lips. She hands it to me, and after checking it, I return the phone to my pocket. Then I raise the drink carrier still gripped in my right hand. “Come on, I’ll help you take this to the bookstore.”
We walk the rest of the way — which is to the end of the alleyway and two buildings to the right — in silence. When I drop her off at the door, her eyebrows are furrowed.
“So…”
I smile. “So I will pick you up on Friday. I’ll text you, and you can give me your address.”
She seems to mull that over. “Pick me up at the bookstore,” she says, and I’m willing to award her that small victory, for now. Sooner or later she’ll open up for me. “But you can still text me?”
