Page 232 of Sorrow & Strangers

“No, it isn’t. You refuse to kiss me, and kissing isn’t sex.”

He slams his hand against the door just beside my head, leaning close to crowd me. “Or is it even more intimate? The taste of each other, the vulnerability . . .”

I watch him for a long moment, and I surprise myself by agreeing with him. It’s the reason I didn’t want to kiss him with his glamoured lips.

“Fine. No kissing either. With anyone.”

He scans my eyes, and some of his anger dissipates. “Why?”

I exhale heavily. “To make it fair. Because I . . .” He watches me as I try to find the words. “Because I need to stand on my own before I can stand with someone else.” I keep my eyes on him. I want the ground to swallow me, to hide from what I’m about to say, but I can’t hold it in. “And I like you.”

He watches me for a long moment, and then he leans in, burying his face in my neck. I hesitate for just a moment before I tilt my head for him, opening to him. His arms snake around my waist, and he pulls me to him. I twine my arms around his neck, and he wastes no time in picking me up and pulling me close. He nuzzles my throat, inhaling deeply.

“You can’t smell me,” I say, barely above a whisper.

He inhales again. “I remember it as well as if I were smelling you now.” He brushes his nose along my throat. “Peonies. The sweet-smelling black ones that grow on the banks of . . .” His words trail off, and I shiver when he bites my neck. “It’s addicting to inhale. Perfectly alluring. Perfectly poisonous.”

“Stranger . . .” I moan softly. He always leaves me peonies, reminiscent of them.

“There were these flowers that grew in Faerie once, fragile at first look, but a single inhale would fell the strongest of beings. Some would pay for a lethal kiss of those petals. I know I’d pay the same, if not more.”

I close my eyes. “I . . .”

“I know,” he says, pulling back. I pant, watching him, that bone-deep need an aching throb in my core.

“You can’t look at me like that.”

“Then put me down,” I whisper, though it’s through a soft moan. He slowly lowers me to my feet, my body sliding down his.

“This is hard for me, to see you even near others,” he says, cupping my cheeks.

I nod, and he leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. “It’s hard when you’re not mine. Not yet, anyway.” I look up at him and place my hands on his chest, wishing I could feel his steady heartbeat, and still my stomach flutters and my core ignites. I move past him and walk to sit on my bed. He tracks my movement and hesitates only for a moment before he comes and sits next to me. I exhale heavily, and he takes my hand, sandwiching it between his much larger ones.

I don’t look at him. I can’t because every time I do, something inside me sparks, and it’s fucking terrifying. But when he brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles, I can’t stop myself from looking at him. He cups my cheek, staring at me with such intensity I swear I can see his eyes sparkle.

“No kissing anyone,” I say, leaning my cheek into his palm. “I promise.”

“And I assume that goes for me too?” he says, his lips twitching.

“You’ve already said it’s a hard boundary,” I say, scowling up at him.

He chuckles. “I mean, you don’t want me to kiss others?”

Jealousy claws down my spine. What is this feeling? I’ve never cared before. He kisses my palm, but anger surges through me.

“You can do whatever you want,” I practically snarl, yanking my hand out of his.

“Is that right?” he asks smugly, moving closer and catching my hand again.

“Yes,” I say, bristling.

He brings my hand back to his lips and kisses my knuckles again. “You’d be fine knowing I kissed someone else?” he asks.

“Do what you want.” I strangle a snarl, trying to shove down the jealousy. It is such an unreasonable emotion, and right now it has its claws embedded in me.

One moment he is beside me and then, in the blink of an eye, I’m beneath him, and he’s pinning me to the bed. “Is that what you really want to say?”

I glare up at him, trying not to enjoy how his weight feels on top of me.