She does a slow spin, the skirt flaring slightly. “What’s the verdict?”
“The color suits you.” I reach out, adjusting the strap that’s fallen slightly off her shoulder. My fingertips linger against her collarbone.
She meets my gaze. “What’s next, then?”
“The green.”
The emerald gown is my personal favorite, though I haven’t admitted this to Rose. When she emerges from behind the screen, I know immediately that I was right. The deep, rich green sets off her pale skin and dark hair to perfection. The cut is both classic and daring, a fitted bodice with a sweetheart neckline, the fabric draping in elegant folds across her chest before cascading to the floor in a fluid line that accentuates every luscious curve.
“Oh,” she says softly, looking down at herself.
I circle her slowly, taking in every detail. “Indeed.”
The back of the gown dips low, almost indecently so. The color seems to change as she moves, shifting from deep emerald to forest green to something darker, more mysterious. It reminds me of the woods at twilight, of things hidden in shadow.
“The neckline needs adjusting,” I say.
I move closer, my hands going to the bodice, and I adjust the draping, allowing my fingers to brush against the swell of her breast.
“There,” I murmur, though I don’t move away.
Rose looks up at me, her pupils dilated.
But her scent fills my head, floral and sweet, underlaid with arousal. My control, cultivated over centuries, frays at the edges.
“This one,” I say. “This is the one.”
She nods, but neither of us is thinking about the dress anymore. Her heart beats faster, the sound filling my sensitive ears like a drum. I can hear the rush of blood beneath her skin, see the pulse at the base of her throat. Vampire instincts rise unbidden, but it’s not her blood I crave.
“Lucien.” It’s an unmistakable invitation.
When my mouth finds hers, she yields immediately, lips parting on a sigh that I take greedily.
The kiss deepens, turns hungry. Her hands grab at my shoulders, fingers digging in, and I walk her backward until she hits the wall, pinning her there with my body. She gasps into my mouth when I press against her, and I feel her hips tilt forward.
“I thought we were just picking out a dress,” she manages to say when I move to her neck, placing open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat.
“We were.” My hands find the zipper of the gown, slowly lowering it. “We are.”
“This wasn’t part of the plan.” Her voice breaks when my hand slips inside the loosened bodice to cup her breast.
“Consider it a complimentary part of the service.”
The gown pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a pair of simple black lace panties. The contrast of the lace against her skin makes my mouth water. I’ve seen her like this before, touched her, tasted her, but the hunger never abates. If anything, it grows stronger with each encounter.
I lift her and carry her to my bed. She weighs nothing in my arms, a small, precious thing, a fleeting human life that I could break without effort. The thought makes me gentler as I lay her down on the sheets.
Rose reaches for me, impatient, but I catch her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. “Not so fast,” I murmur against her ear. “We have time.”
She quivers as my fingers slide beneath the waistband of her underwear, finding her already wet. I tease her clit slowly, watching her face as pleasure overtakes her. There’s something uniquely satisfying about seeing Rose Smith, stubborn, defiant Rose, come apart under my touch.
“Please,” she breathes, hips moving against my hand. “Lucien, please.”
I release her wrists to remove my own clothing without taking my eyes off her. She watches me hungrily, her gaze trailing over my chest, down to where I’m hard and ready for her. When I kneel between her legs, her hands immediately go to my shoulders, pulling me down.
“Patience,” I chide, though my own is wearing thin.
I drag her panties down her legs, baring her beautiful cunt. I part her thighs, admiring the soft pink flush of her sex, the slickness already gleaming. My hunger sharpens, all the more exquisite for how long I deny it, how many centuries I have spent mastering want.
