My mind fills in everything underneath it without permission. I imagine peeling it off her. The sounds she would make. The way her skin would feel under my mouth.
Desire crawls up my throat.
When I look up, she’s staring at me.
“Dorian,” she says, husky. Just my name, but it lands like an invitation.
My fingers slide to her throat, resting over her pulse. It jumps under my touch. “Do you remember,” I murmur, “how good it felt when I bit you right here?”
Her breath catches. I feel it against my skin.
Something restless coils in me. A low hum under my ribs. There’s a buzzing in her skin, too. I can smell it, that sweet spike that makes my head spin.
She moves first.
She flips me onto my back and climbs into my lap in one smooth motion, knees on either side of my hips, hands braced on my chest. Her mouth crashes into mine before I can say a word.
The kiss is everything. Soft and frantic and familiar all at once. Her lips move against mine like they remember exactly what to do.
I groan into her mouth, fingers digging into her hips. She rocks forward without thinking, and I feel it everywhere.
I kiss her deeper, slower, tasting her, breathing her in. She makes a small sound that wrecks me completely.
Then my phone alarm starts buzzing somewhere in the room.
Reality crashes in.
We pull apart, breathing hard, foreheads touching. Her eyes are dark with want. Mine probably are, too.
“I know you want to move on,” I say, forcing the words out, “and I’m trying to respect that. I just… I’m struggling.”
She lifts a hand and traces my lips, my nose, my jaw. It’s slow and tender and fucking torture. “I know.”
Her scent spikes again, and it hits me like a punch.
This is part of why I feel like I am spiraling. Being this close to her does something to my control.
She leans in and kisses my neck, nuzzling my ear, brushing her nose along my jaw.
“Fuck,” I growl. The word slips out before I can stop it.
My hands tighten on her waist. My head spins.
“I know I have no right to ask this,” I say, voice strained, “but are you going into heat?”
She freezes. That snaps her right out of it.
She pulls back, climbs off my lap, and sits on the edge of the bed, arms crossed. “No. I’m on meds. I’m due to see Miss Thea, but no. I don’t think so.”
The hurt in her voice hits me immediately. “Norah, I didn’t mean?—”
“I know what you meant,” she says quietly.
I swing my legs off the bed and stand, giving her space. My head clears just enough to realize she is wearing tiny shorts.
Her freckled legs go on forever. She looks unreal in the morning light.
She hands me my pair of jeans without looking at me. Then her eyes drop anyway.
