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His gaze met mine, green eyes holding touches of amusement and something else. Something that had my pulse skipping. Not lust. Something deeper. Stronger.
"It's a rotten thing," he said softly, "being lonely at Christmas. "
I didn't bite. I wanted to, but I didn't. I stepped away from the fire to avoid burning my butt, and picked up a plate of cake instead.
"How are we going to catch this vampire before he kills again?" I spooned some cake into my mouth and felt my knees go weak. Damn, this was good chocolate cake.
"The team is still working on possible locations given everything we've seen and I've scented at the crime scenes. If they find something, they'll contact us. "
He leaned forward to pick up the other plate of cake, and my fingers suddenly itched with the need to run through his thick, dark hair. I gripped the spoon harder.
"Other than that," he continued, "we just have to hope the bait plan works. "
"It's difficult to catch someone when they can up and fly away. "
"If it was that easy for him to shift shape, he would have flown the coop earlier. Are you going to sit down?"
"Are you going to make any moves on me?"
Again that sexy smile teased his mouth. "Do you want me to?"
Yes, yes, yes. "No. "
"Why not?"
I just about choked on my cake. "Why do you think why not?"
"Because I'm a rat?"
"That would be a good start. "
"Because I forgot to call you for Christmas?"
"And my birthday. And Valentine's. "
"That's true. I did, however, buy you presents for both. Does that count?"
Yes. No. "Damn it, Brodie, stop. This isn't fair. " I shoved the half-eaten cake on the table and thrust my hands into my pockets so he couldn't see they were suddenly shaking.
Because it wasn't fear. It was the need to reach out and touch him, caress him, love him. Just like we used to. Just like I dreamed of on so many of those long nights I'd spent alone.
He placed his plate back down then rose. Only the coffee table separated us. Only the coffee table stopped me from stepping into the sweet strength of his arms.
"I know it's not fair," he said softly. "But I never intended it to be. "
"But why?"
The question was practically torn out of me, and he grimaced. "Because for the last month I've been trying to talk to you, and you've barely given me the time of day. "
"And that surprises you?"
"No. It's highly frustrating, though. "
"Damn it, Brodie, this has to stop. I can't . . . " My voice broke a little. I stopped and took a deep, quivering breath. "I can't go through another Christmas waiting for you to call but knowing you never will. "
He raised a hand and gently brushed my cheek with his fingertips. His fingers were so warm and felt so good against my skin that desire surged, making me tremble. And it was tempting, so tempting, to press into his touch. To ask for more than just that light caress.
But that way lay heartache.
