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“You expect us to care about each other and function as actual mates?” I asked him, my heart still beating a little faster.
“I expect to flirt, spoil, and fuck my way into your life until neither of us has an ounce of desire to live apart again.”
Shit.
“What do you expect me to say to that?” I finally asked.
His lips curved upward slightly. “How about a good old, ‘go ahead and try,’ or ‘good luck with that’?”
I huffed out a laugh. “You’re obnoxious.”
“So I’ve been told.” He lifted my hand to his lips and brushed a kiss to my knuckles. The gesture was both soft and playful, and despite the red glow, his gaze was the same. “Are you going to let me use the vibrator on you again?”
I hadn’t even thought about it, but I answered quickly.
“No. After that last announcement, I’m thinking a little space would be best. You can feed from another room, right?”
“I can.” He answered easily.
Too easily.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m not here for half-truths, Rafael.”
“It will take longer to sate me if there’s more distance between us.”
“Alright, you can come to my room with me.” I paused for a heartbeat, imagining having him in my bed with me, and then corrected myself. “Maybe the couch would be safer, to keep things more appropriate.”
He chuckled. “There’s nothing appropriate about feeding on lust, Tater-tot.”
“I need a shitty name for you too,” I grumbled, as he stood.
Somehow, I’d already forgotten how he towered over me with all those gorgeous muscles.
My body warmed, and the damn smoke on my skin thickened.
“Call me whatever you want. You’ll be more comfortable in my bed, so we’ll keep the feedings there. Then, you don’t have to think about feeding me every time you curl up in yours.”
My face flushed. “How did you know I was thinking about that?”
“Your face gives everything away.” His fingertip brushed my nose, and then he towed me toward the stairs. “Do you know how difficult it is not to touch you when you walk around in nothing but your panties and my shirt, Tater-tot? I swear, you’re trying to kill me.” He looked back at me as we reached the steps, his eyes moving slowly down my figure.
I flushed hotter. “Donottry to distract me with lust. I should be trying to come up with a terrible nickname for you.”
He chuckled, and we headed up. “Go ahead.”
“Raffle. Raffy Taffy. Raft. Craft…” I trailed off, not coming up with anything for a minute as I wracked my brain for more words that had “raf” in them.
“Draft,” Rafael offered.
I gave him a look. “You’re helping me come up with a shitty nickname for you?”
He flashed me a grin. “I’m the one who refused to stop calling you by yours. Seems like due diligence at this point.”
True.
That was fair.
“Graffiti,” I threw out.
