Next, he pulled a T-shirt out of the bottom drawer. Pity.
“Your lip is poking out,” he said in a deep, warm tone.
She sucked that lip back in and tried to look innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“This shirt isn’t for me,” he told her.
She frowned as he approached, but when he handed her the garment, her brain clicked. The sweater wasn’t her pajamas tonight. His T-shirt was.
She moved to pull at the hem of the sweater, but he stilled her hands and squared up to her. Pitch-black eyes on hers, he leaned forward. His lips brushed her earlobe. Just the touch of his lips there, and she leaned into him without telling her body to do so. A soft rumbling sound emanated from him as he straightened up and pulled the shirt off her. She lifted her arms to help, and when he dropped it to the floor, she let off a shuddering breath of anticipation.
He removed her black cotton shirt next, which left her in her bra and leggings.
Evan seemed to caress every inch of her collar bones and shoulders with his eyes before he ran his knuckle down her chin, to her throat, to her cleavage, under the curve of her bra and around to the back. The snick of her unfastened bra filled the silence of the room. Evan hooked a finger in the front of her loose bra and pulled it slowly from her arms, dragging chills across her skin with the scratch of the straps. Her lingerie joined the discarded clothes on the floor.
A tremble worked its way up her spine, and he hooked his finger under her chin, lifted her gaze to his. “You’re safe.”
“I know.” She didn’t have a guess at what made her whisper that with such certainty. She shouldn’t feel safe with a vampire, not after what had happened to her, but despite his inhuman eyes, Evan wasn’t a monster. He just wasn’t.
He left her leggings on but pulled her close. He took her hands and guided them behind his back. When she pressed her palms to his smooth, cold skin, he ran his fingertips down her back softly as he swayed them side to side.
This was the most intimate thing she’d ever done with a man. She memorized every curve of his back with her hands and reveled in the power of drawing a soft moan from his lips when she scratched it gently. And all the while, he memorized her body with his touch. Her nipples were drawn up hard against his stone chest and felt so right there.
He traced the curve of her shoulder to the tip of her collar bone, drew along that as well. Up her neck to her cheek, to her scar.
“I can fix this,” he whispered. “I can re-open it and seal it closed, and it’ll heal fast. I can do the same with bites. But a part of me doesn’t want to change your scar.”
“Why?” she asked on a breath, afraid to break the quiet magic of this moment.
“Because you earned it, warrior. You can go two ways. You can look in the mirror and know sadness when you see the mark. You can know fear. Or…” He dragged his fingertip so softly back up the length of it. “You can be proud of yourself for fighting. For surviving.”
His words stirred something inside of her, a pride she hadn’t expected, because over the last few days, she’d been picking apart what had happened. How could she have handled it better? How could she have changed the pain she’d put Tanya through? But Evan was telling her she did okay. That she was okay. That the scar didn’t define her. It enhanced her life experience.
She liked it.
Feeling bold, she pushed up and pressed her lips to his and then lowered back down to earth. It had been a fast peck, and his lips had been hard and cold. He searched her eyes as the slightest smile took the corners of his mouth. His sharp canines were longer now, poking out just a little. Stunning, complicated beast.
He cupped the side of her face and leaned down, hesitated an inch from her lips, and then kissed her. Really kissed her. His other hand on the small of her back dragged her tight against him, and she clutched onto his strong shoulders, desperate to keep this moment just as it was.
Nothing else existed when he touched her. No troubles, no fear, no overthinking.
She could just…exist.
His teeth gently scraped her lips as they went on kissing, always gently. He angled his head to the other side and drove his tongue past her lips, kissed her deeper as he eased her backward against the wall. Intertwining his finger with hers, he held her hands above her head, but even this, holding her hands in such a dominating way, was gentle. It spread flutters of anticipation through her middle. She loved the contrast of his cold skin against hers.
Nicole was pinned, trapped, but it didn’t feel scary. It felt safe, like a heavy comfort blanket draped across her lap.
His kiss grew
