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She couldn’t think of anything he wouldn’t instantly shoot down. Then it came to her. “No more feeding me without my consent.”
His head lifted, all playfulness replaced by serious concern. “Will you feed on your own?”
“I’ll eat.”
“Feeding is different from eating. Blood serves a different purpose than food.”
“Has a vampire ever starved from not drinking blood?”
“Immortal. And it can become very painful. The body begins to atrophy over time. Flesh rots and bone crumbles—”
“All right, all right. I get the picture.” She felt sick just picturing that. “I don’t want you doing that bedazzle thing on me again. I want you to respect my choices and trust that I know my body best.”
“Fine, on one condition.”
“Of course, you have a condition.”
“When you decide you’ve had enough pain and you need to feed, it will be from my vein alone. Your lips will never touch another living thing.”
“Not a problem.”
“I believe we’ve negotiated enough for one night.” He stood and held out a hand. “I’d like to put our agreement into practice.”
Her stomach bottomed out as several emotions stirred. Worry. Anticipation. Lust. Frustration. Stress. The need to abate said stress.
Visions of what might happen upstairs filled her head. She agreed to this. He was going to touch her. Put his hands on her body. Kiss her. Push inside of her. And she agreed to let him. As much and as often as he wanted.
As understanding dawned and she truly understood how much he could actually demand of her now, the scent of his arousal filled the kitchen. She looked up at him with big eyes. “Now?”
“Now.” He waited for her to take his hand.
She agreed. They negotiated. She wasn’t repulsed or regretting her choice, but there was no mistaking the fear coursing through her veins. This was going to change things.
Her hand slowly lifted. Her heart pounding like a battle drum. He watched her with dark hunger, as if set to devour her. She swallowed tightly and closed her eyes, putting her hand in his.
CHAPTER 16
There was no such thing as a quickie on an Amish farm. Christian insisted on drawing her a bath, which turned out to be a thirty-minute process of heating kettles and transporting water. She adapted her regency theory to a more gothic pace, one where bicycles were considered too modern and shampoo came in oddly shaped blocks of soap.
He’d bathed her before, but at that time she’d been in shock. Now, she was fully alert and prepared for what came next, even if it took a decade for them to get to that step.
“What are the rules on visiting a Walgreens?” She was pretty sure he just washed her hair in tree ash and rendered fats.
“What is a Walgreens?”
“It’s a store. Well, a pharmacy. They sell makeup and birthday cards and hair products. You can also get pictures developed there while you wait for your prescription to be filled, but who does that anymore? You guys totally missed that era, I guess.”
He gently poured a pitcher of warm water over her hair and down her back. “You mean an apothecary?”
“Yeah. The old pillory, good for blood-letting and medicinal herbs. There’s usually one located on every corner, somewhere between the hatter and the blacksmith.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“A little.”
They formed a delicate truce since their fight in the kitchen. Arguing allowed them both to get some frustrations off their chests, and the negotiations made each of them feel heard and acknowledged.
She was doing okay with the no-cursing rule, for the most part, but it had only been an hour. She’d assumed they’d come upstairs and get right to the fuc—intimacy, but Christian insisted on seeing to her needs first. According to him, she had a lot of needs.
“If there’s something you need from town, I’ll send for it.”
Of course, he would, because she wasn’t allowed off the farm. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
“There are always exceptions.”
Interesting. “I’ll make a list.”
“Head back.”
She tipped her head and warm water cascaded over her hair and shoulders. No one had ever washed her hair outside of a hair salon. She supposed her mother did when she was young, but she had no memory of that. It was nice.
Christian’s hands were strong but gentle, and he took great care to work out any tangles, massaging and stroking her long strands with his strong hands. Considering the guys she knew, this kind of stuff never happened. And she couldn’t call it torture. On the contrary, he had her eyes rolling back in pleasure.
She relaxed and sighed. “That feels nice.”
“Your hair will grow faster now. It’s already thicker and healthier than it was a few days ago. A female’s hair is her glory, pintura, and I find yours to be a radiant beauty I hadn’t considered admiring so reverently. I believe it looks best coiled around my hands.” He gave her hair a firm tug that tipped her head back, and water trickled from the damp strands.
