The gentle stroking stopped. “I thought we weren’t going to fight.”
“We aren’t.”
“If I answer you, we’ll fight.”
He couldn’t even ballpark it, then. Ouch. “Have you ever been in love?”
“No.”
What about with me? she wanted to ask, but didn’t. “How long do your relationships usually last?”
“Some longer than others,” he answered cautiously.
Which meant some hadn’t even been relationships? Just quick, easy conquests? “Did you break up with them or did they break up with you?”
He groaned. “You’re killing me here, you know that?”
She was killing herself. But maybe, just maybe, she was doing this, insisting on answers, so that leaving him—when the time came—would be easier. She’d be able to tell herself she’d been one in a group of thousands, meaningless, temporary. That would hurt her, destroy her, but eventually, she would heal. Right? She wouldn’t try to track him down and start something all over again. He would stay safe.
“Please answer.” His T-shirt ripped where she still fisted it. One by one, she forced her fingers to release the material.
He uttered another sigh. “Mostly…I did the breaking up.”
“I see. Why?”
“Different reasons.”
Like…he’d gotten tired of them? Bored? “I know you dated Lauren, and you told me before, when we first met, that you’d once dated a witch and she was the one who cursed you and your brothers, but that you died soon after and when you were revived, you were freed from that curse. You told me why things ended with Lauren, and I can guess why they ended with the witch.”
“Wait. I didn’t die soon after the curse. More like a few years. I was stabbed in the side and bled out. Victoria gave me some of her blood, and that helped bring me back. But anyway, I’d gotten a taste of the non-dating life in those years since no one wanted to date me. So I guess you could say I went a little crazy afterward, when girls started noticing me again.”
“Are you trying to tell me you became a slut, Riley?”
He choked out a laugh. “Maybe. Does that disappoint you?”
“No.” He was who he was, but she was worried. His answers weren’t convincing her of anything. She wasn’t distancing herself. “You’ve slept with a lot of girls, then?”
Every muscle in his body stiffened. Underneath her cheek, his heart sped out of control. “With some.”
“With Lauren?”
His hand left her completely and scrubbed down his face. “I won’t talk about that. Just like I would never talk with other people about what you and I do.”
So that was a yes. She was jealous, of course, and suddenly so self-conscious she wanted to scream. Lauren was gorgeous, perfect, strong. What was Mary Ann? Imperfect in every way, dangerous to his health, his well-being. “I’m your first human? To date, I mean.”
“Yes.”
Was she a novelty, then?
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, and rolled on top of her. His weight pinned her down, and she…liked it. “Your aura is a very sad, very depressing color. You think you mean less to me than all the others. That you are somehow less.”
His opinion shouldn’t matter. If they survived the curse—you will. She wouldn’t believe otherwise—she was going to break up with him, she reminded herself. “Let’s just say I’m not exactly sure what you see in me.”
“We’ve covered this before. I see your beauty…” He kissed the shell of her ear, softly, sweetly.
She shivered. “Beauty fades.”
“I see your intelligence.” Another kiss, this one on her chin.
Another shiver. “I could lose my mind.” And was probably close to doing so even now.
“I see your bravery.” Another kiss, once, twice, this one just under her bottom lip.
Shiver…shiver… “Lots of girls are brave.”
“I see a pair of hazel eyes that view the world with an enviable mix of innocence and optimism. Those same eyes, when turned on me, go soft and hot at the same time, the innocence blending with wickedness, and that does something to me.” He kissed her lips then, tongue sliding out for the briefest taste. “What do you see in me?”
His words…they were drugging, delicious, suddenly as necessary as breathing. No matter what the future held.
Their gazes locked, and he braced his hands beside her temples, caging her in, waiting.
Oxygen somehow trickled into her lungs, and she said, “I see the hottest boy alive,” and leaned up to kiss his jaw.
He shook his head. “Someone wise once told me that looks fade.”
So the tables had been turned, had they? She almost grinned. “I see the sharpest wit I’ve ever encountered.” She kissed his chin.
“Humor is subjective.”
“I see strength.” She kissed just below his lip.
“One snap of my spine, and I’m useless.”
“I see…a boy who would stand between me and my enemies a thousand times, dying a thousand times if it meant keeping me from the smallest of scratches.” Truth. “I see a boy who knows what I need before even I know, and then delights in giving it to me.” Again, truth.
She pressed a soft kiss into his lips.
He hadn’t lingered with his kisses, but she did with hers. She pressed again, then again, until he opened his mouth, and she opened hers, until their tongues were twining, exploring. He was heavy against her, but he didn’t crush her. Having him there actually felt good. Her hands had room to move, along his back, kneading, squeezing.
His, too. They roamed, and soon both their shirts were off and they were skin to heated skin. Nothing had ever felt that good. His taste was in her mouth, somehow in her blood, warming her up another degree. His hands were just as hot, soft and hard all at the same time.
Soon they were moaning, she was swallowing his breath, and he was swallowing hers. She was clutching at him, no longer content to knead and squeeze. If he’d been human, she would have feared she was hurting him, but he seemed to like everything she did, each new, inexperienced touch she gave, because he constantly growled his approval.
For a moment, his fingers played at the waist of her jeans. Her skin tickled there, and she found herself arching up, seeking more, but he stiffened, growled—and this time it wasn’t in approval, but in…pain?
“We have to stop,” he rasped.
He’d stopped them last time, too. This time, she wanted to scream. “Why?”
“This is your first time.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t want you to be with me because you’re afraid of dying.”
“I’m not.” She was, but that wasn’t the only reason she was with him, doing this.
His eyes were grave, haunted. “Mary Ann, only this morning you were done with me.”
“To save you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
His forehead pressed against hers. Both of them were sweating, shaking. “Oh, yes, you’re killing me tonight, and one day I’m going to get a medal for this. You have no idea how hard this is for me.” He snorted, as if he’d made a joke. “Listen, your first time should be about love. Only love.”
“Was yours?”
“No, and that’s how I know how important it is.”
He rolled off her, but didn’t sever all contact. He pulled her into his side, and once again she rested her head just above his heart. The organ pounded wildly, and that soothed her. He wanted her, and stopping had been difficult for him. But he’d done it. No other boy would have stopped. She knew that, and it was another reason she was falling so deeply in love with him.
Despite how upset her body currently was with him.
“I want you to be sure,” he said huskily. “Of me, of us. I don’t want you to ever look back and regret. I don’t want you to wish things had been different. I want the things we do to each other to be about nothing but us.”