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“I’m so sorry, dove. I... I don’t have the control I need to be with you like this. No matter how much I want to.”
Her gaze traveled my body until it rested on my aching shaft. “Can I at least help you take care ofthatproblem?”
God, but I wanted her to. She had no idea. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I said, “It’s best that I’m not within touching distance of you right now. I’ll fuck you silly and do something stupid like knock you up. Then you’d be stuck with me.”
She laughed. “Shifters and vampires don’t procreate.”
I cocked a brow. “Don’t they?”
Shaking her head, she bit her lower lip, and I had to fight a groan at the sight of the flush on her skin.
“Tell that to my uncle’s mate. She’s helped more than one shifter bring a hybrid into the world.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
This was a safer topic. One that helped me focus on the real reason we shouldn’t be together. And one that had the added benefit of helping me control my raging desire. “They used to be called abominations. Sometimes they still are. Hunted by humans and the vampire and shifter councils alike. No one talks about them to keep them safe.”
“I thought they couldn’t survive. That the shifter or the vampire side always killed off the other, and they ended up dying in the process.”
“Not always.”
I shouldn’t have told her this. It was a risk. But I trusted Sunday Fallon in a way I’d never trusted anyone else.
That wasn’t the only reason we shouldn’t be together, but I didn’t want to remind her of the fact that our union would likely lead to consequences that would result in war. She was already an outcast. Being with me like this would only make things worse for her.
“I have to go. Until I know how to control myself around you, we can’t do this again.”
She nodded, the disappointment so heavy in her eyes I could practically taste it. Or perhaps that was my own.
“Bye, Noah. Thank you for what you did earlier.”
“That was purely selfish, little wolf. I don’t want anyone seeing you naked but me. At least, not when it's against your will. But enough talk of unpleasant things. I have something I want you to do for me after I leave. Something that will make leaving you now more bearable.”
“Oh?”
“When you touch yourself, I want it to be my name on your lips as you shudder out your release.”
What I didn’t tell her as I fled before her desire-hooded gaze or the sweet ‘o’ of her lips could lure me back into her bed—and into all kinds of trouble I couldn’t afford—was that I would be doing the same for her.
