“I will not hurt you, Sugar. I’d never—I—did I hurt you last night?” Oklahoma clutches the blanket he has around his waist, holding a giant cup of ice water for me.
I reach for him, then stop just as my fingers nearly graze his arm. “No, god. No, Oakley, last night, that was…that was amazing. It was one of the best nights of my life. I’m…” I gulp down the nerves, taking the water from him.
The cold condensation slips against my palms. “I’m afraid to touch you, not because I fear you. I’m…” I dip my head down and sip the rim of the glass, the ice-cold water coating the rawness of my throat.
He sniffs the air, and like always, I smile.
He’s always smelling me.
“You’re afraid the heat will kick in, and you’ll want me like you did last night.”
Oakley stands in front of me, bare-chested, that damn blanket clinging to him for dear life, and I’m jealous.
I know exactly what it’s like to cling to him and how good he feels.
Am I fucking jealous of a blanket?
I’m eating him alive with my stare. My gaze roams down the sculpted statue that is his body. Rock hard pecs, rolling valleys of abs, the defined cut of the Adonis belt dipping so low, the blanket might as well fall to the floor, so I can see the rest of him.
The outline of his cock presses against the blue and white quilt, reminding me of how big he is. I could outline theprotruding vein right now. I can see it through the quilt, tempting me yet again.
“Sugar, you’d better stop looking at me like that, or we won’t be able to shower or eat before the next wave hits. I already smell it. We don’t have long before I’m pressing you against the bed and fucking you within an inch of your damn life.”
The timer in the kitchen dings, saving me from another torturous second of having him so close to me.
No one should look so damn good.
“Saved by the bell,” he winks. “Good thing I have a gas stove, or I don’t know what we would do since the electricity is still out. I’ll be right back.”
I’m not sure if we are going to have enough time. Heat climbs up my body, scorching my cheeks. I gulp down my water, hoping the cold temperature sedates the heat.
I stare at the wall where everything first started last night. There are two dents with cracks across the entire surface. I follow the length of them, and they travel to the ceiling, the floor, and to the edge of where the wall ends.
Flashes of him pinning me down. His soft lips traveling down my neck…the dirty words he whispered through drags of blood as he fed from me. I’m ready for him to take me again, and the heat hasn’t reached its peak.
I press the cold glass against the back of my neck and sigh, needing to calm the hell down.
Oklahoma comes back with a big bowl of soup for both of us and sets it on the coffee table.
“What is this?” I ask, peeking into the liquid.
A pinch of worry swims in my chest, but it isn’t coming from me. It’s coming from him.
He rubs his hands on his thighs, clearly nervous. “I tried to make the zosui soup you made for me yesterday. It was delicious, warm, and filling.” He lifts his arm to scratch behindhis back. “I’m not sure how it came out. I’ve never made it before.”
I scoot closer to him, setting my half-empty glass on a coaster. “You made this for me?”
This time, it’s my sweet, moody vampire who blushes. “I want to do everything for you, and you have to keep your strength with this heat. I know it isn’t easy, and it changes everything”—he intertwines his fingers with mine—“and I’ve never been a big fan of change. Until you. I want to be with you through all the changes life brings us, and that means taking care of you, too.” His nostrils flare, and I press my thighs together, hoping we have a little more time. “Hurry up and eat, Sugar. We don’t have much time.”
“Why doesn’t it affect you like it does me?” I huff.
He cocks a brow at me, yanking the blanket off him to show me hisveryerect cock with precome leaking out of the slit.
“I’m barely keeping it together. My rut will hit when your heat hits. That’s how I know it’s close. I’m on the fucking edge already. Focusing on anything else but you has been the most challenging part of my existence so far. Hurry up and eat before I lose my damn control.” He scoops the spoon into the bowl with anger, lifting it out only for it to drip onto his thighs.
I’m tempted to bend down and lick him clean. He must sense my train of thought because he tosses the blanket over himself, pointing to the soup.
“I didn’t say eat me,” he growls, pointing to the bowl again. “Eat.” His eyes burn red, and he squeezes them shut, shakes his head, only for them to remain the most beautiful shade of ruby I’ve ever seen.
