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“Sorrel.” He gripped my hand like a vise and gazed deeply into my eyes. “Tell me your deepest secrets.”
A jolt of electricity shot through me, making me shiver. An unspeakable peace overcame me. I stared at his lips that were pressed tightly together and smiled. I wanted him to know everything about me, even the embarrassing things. “Well . . . from the moment I met you, all I’ve wanted to do is kiss you,” I confessed before throwing my hand over my mouth. I couldn’t believe I’d admitted that.
Eric let out a sigh of relief before he chuckled. His reaction was odd and embarrassing.
I pulled away from him and began to stand. “Maybe we should go.”
Eric reached for me and pulled me right back toward him, making me land in his lap. “Sorrel.” He gathered me in his arms. There were no words to describe the pleasure coursing through me, despite my embarrassment. It was so overwhelming. I gripped his shirt, not caring about the consequences of my actions.
“Do you want to know my secret?” he whispered in my ear before nuzzling it, driving me wild.
I nodded, unable to speak.
“I want to kiss you too.” He kissed my bare shoulder, escalating the sexual tension strung between us so tight it was like it had a pulse of its own. When he trailed kisses slow and steady up my neck, my entire body erupted in goose bumps. His lips eventually found their way to the corner of my mouth. His warm lips excited my own while they lingered and teased. He ran his strong hands up my arms and cupped my face. “I must apologize.”
He caught me completely off guard. “For what?”
“For this.” His lips came crashing into mine, capturing them as if we were running out of time. His urgency bled into my lips, making them part.
I didn’t have time to think about why he’d apologized. I was only sorry he hadn’t kissed me sooner. My hands released his shirt and wound their way around his neck, pulling him closer to me. My body applauded my actions and begged that I leave no distance between us. Eric’s tongue seemed to be of the same mind as it plunged deeper, tasting every part of me that it could. His hands moved up and through my hair, undoing my updo. He groaned in pleasure as my hair cascaded around us.
This was better than any of my dreams. My imagination had been doing me a great injustice. I savored the way he tasted like strawberries and balsamic vinegar and the way his strong hands ran down my silky legs only to slowly creep back up. When his hand skirted just under my dress, I gasped.
Eric immediately pulled away. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”
“Don’t apologize.” I had to take a deep breath. “I wanted you to, it’s just . . . I don’t know how to say this, but I lack experience. I’m saving myself.” That’s something I’d heard mortals say. Unfortunately, I was saving myself for death, but to say that out loud would have really killed the mood.
Eric smiled before resting his forehead on mine. “I’m not surprised.”
“Really? Most people are.”
“I love your innocence, Sorrel. The world needs more of it. More of you.”
“Thank you.” I brushed his lips, hoping to pick up where we left off, but he leaned away. “Are you afraid of me now that you know my secrets?”
“You have no idea.” He wrapped me in his arms.
My head landed on his chest. I could hear the beat to my favorite song. This time the rhythm was faster and jagged.
“Eric, do I really scare you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He stroked my hair. “Very rarely in life does one get to hold something as pure as you. It’s both an honor and a burden.”
“You think I’m a burden?”
“The weight of protecting your innocence is.”
My finger drew circles on his chest. “You don’t need to protect me. I’m a big girl who is quite capable of keeping herself pure, as you put it.” I giggled.
“I’m sure you are.” His fingers glided down my arm. “But I’ll do my part, as hard as it may be.”
“I’ll do my best to make it easy on you,” I teased.
He remained silent, other than kissing my head.
“Eric, tell me something about you.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Everything.”
“Could you be more specific?” He chuckled.
I thought for a moment. There was so much I wanted to know about him. “Did you always want to be an investigative reporter?”
“No.”
“What did you want to be?”
“An artist.”
My head popped up. “Really? What kind?”
He tapped my nose. “A painter.”
“Can you show me some of your work?”
“I haven’t painted anything in years.”
“You make yourself sound so old.” I rested my head back against his chest.
He went back to stroking my hair. “I feel older than I should.”
