Page 101 of Bleed

“I did last night.”

The words hit like a slap, my mouth falling open before I can stop it. “You… did?”

He dips his chin, gaze never leaving mine.

“Do you regret it?” I ask, my voice coming out strained.

Something dark flickers across his face. “In a sense.”

My expression falters, and of course he notices immediately. I try to turn away, but he reaches across the space between us, capturing my chin in a hand and forcing me to meet his eyes again.

“Only because it made me want more, Beatrix,” he adds. “When it comes to certain indulgences, my hunger knows no bounds.” His gaze slips briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “ And for you…” His thumb shifts against my jaw. “I’m starved.”

My stomach flips, liquid heat unfurling between my legs.

“It’s Bex,” I whisper.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Bex.”

Hearing my name in that low, gravelly voice sends another wave of heat rushing through me. His nostrils flare, tongue sweeping slowly across his lower lip as he regards me.

Damn vampire senses.

He probably catches every tiny shift in my breathing, every hitch in my pulse, every involuntary reaction betraying exactly what he does to me. Elliott Faulkner doesn’t miss a damn thing.

The air between us hums with tension, but neither of us moves. Neither of us looks away.

Finally, he clears his throat.

“Are there any other points you’d like to discuss regarding the addendum?” he asks, voice noticeably rougher than before.

I shake my head. “I think we’re good,” I mumble, the leather beneath me creaking as I shift my weight on the cushion. “I’m… pretty adventurous.”

“Good.”

I scroll down on my phone to the signature line, but before I can tap it, he plucks the device from my hand.

“You can sign tomorrow,” he says, switching off the screen and setting it on the coffee table. “When you’re sober.”

I frown, feeling weirdly called out. “What makes you think I’m not?”

One dark brow lifts. “Other than the fact you admitted to having a margarita buzz?” He pauses, gaze sweeping over me clinically. “Your pupils are dilated, and I can smell tequila on your breath. You don’t appear to be intoxicated, but you’re not completely sober.”

“I’m sober enough to know what I want,” I say with a smirk, sliding a little closer.

He raises a hand to stop me, giving a little shake of his head. “Provision 4B.”

I wrinkle my nose in confusion, and then it hits me.

Of course he’d have the addendum sections memorized by number.

4B must be the one about agreeing to let him take the lead, set the pace, and call the shots.

Fine by me.

I nod in assent, staying exactly where I am, and the corner of his mouth twitches with satisfaction. Then he slowly rises to his feet, turning toward me and extending a hand.

“Come with me.”