I winced. “Ur, yeah, that is a bit gross, I suppose.”

Even he nodded.

Man, what is happening to me? “I’ve been hanging out with vampires too often, I think.”

He nodded again, his eyes widening for a second.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“Sorry.”

“Ara?”

“Sorry.” I laughed. “I mean...argh! Stop it.”

Strong arms encased me against his chest; they felt tight, like a ribbon of anguish and indecision. His chest shook with his gentle laugh and I breathed deep the orange-chocolate scent—faded with the absence of human blood in his veins, making the powdery cloud of soap stronger.

Without need for words, he whispered his desires, the air changing around us, his hands sliding down my back, each fingertip pressing my spine under the rim of my shirt. It felt as if our hips were swinging—a dance—but we stood so still. Both of us frozen with anticipation.

The ball in his throat shifted when he swallowed. “Ara?”

“Yes.” I dared not speak too loud.

“You’re right.”

“I am?”

He slid his fingers further under my shirt and touched my ribs, inching just under my bra. “Yes. We love each other—want each other. There’s no reason to deny what we both need.”

Slowly, stiffly, my hand rose, inching up his chest until I cupped the back of his neck, brave enough to raise my other hand only when he slid both his under my shirt, slipping his thumbs under the clasp of my bra—releasing it. The feeling of freedom made me draw a quick lungful of air, my skin exposed, cool, open.

“So soft,” he whispered, his breath hot and shaky against my hair.

I traced the top of his spine with my thumb, scratching from his hairline down to his collar, nervously, repeatedly, softly, then rigidly, becoming faster, digging deeper as his hands inched my shirt up my ribs, revealing my stomach, my shoulder blades and finally, as I lifted my arms, everything else I wanted to show him.

His stare lingered too long; I tucked my elbows into my waist to cover myself, taking a small step back from him.

“Don’t,” he said, pulling my hands gently away.

My skin tingled all over; nerves and desire filing me up with that pleasant heat again. The vampire stepped into me, reaching down to my jeans. I closed my eyes.

There are places he’ll go in just a few minutes—places no one has ever touched me. What if I’m not good enough, what if I can’t make him happy, what if—

“Shh.” He hooked his finger under my chin and tilted my face upward; I opened my eyes to the black pupils of the vampire-David. “You’ll be fine, Ara.”

“But I...I don’t know how to, I mean, or what to—”

His lip pulled sharply on one corner, his eyes sparkling. “It’s okay. I do.”

I nodded, crossing my arms over my bare chest.

He took my wrist and pulled me a step closer. “I’ll take care of you, okay?”

“I know,” I said into his skin, my breath coming back hot, mixed with an almost sickly-sweet scent.

“Just remember, you are beautiful. Don’t be afraid.”

“Okay.”

He slowly, so slowly untangled his hands from the hair at the base of my neck and slid them down my back, guiding his own descent to his knees. The heat sunk through my body, making me jump slightly when I felt a rush between my thighs. David tinkered with my button, releasing it with a small pop, then slowly, with one hand holding the base, slid my zipper down, stopping just where my thighs met.

My skin crawled all over my body, shifting in circles around my elbows, of all places. His cool, skilful fingertips traced a line for his lips to follow, winding from my navel to my ribs and down the midline of my lace undies.

Outside, headlights lit the room up; I caught a flash of the pale girl in the mirror, covering her chest with her wrists, a man kneeling in front of her, his dark, tousled hair becoming grey until the light disappeared and the room was cast in darkness once more.

And the darkness made me brave enough to take a breath, which only circulated the intoxicating rush of lust around my body again, intensifying when David slid his hands around my waist, between fabric and skin, then slowly pushed my underwear down, jeans and all, keeping his chest, his chin, his eyes right in line with my body. As my pants reached my ankles, David leaned down to help me out of them, his breath brushing the nakedness between my thighs as I lifted each leg, opening them at the knees.

I saw him rocket so slightly forward with a pulse of obvious desire, his eyes closing. And I wanted him to do what I knew was on his mind; I could see him looking at me, see his hands tremble as he had the same ideas. I wanted him to kiss me there, wanted it so badly my knees tightened.

Instead, I slipped my fingers through the collar of his shirt and he stood in front of me, his clothes scratchy against my completely bare skin. In one slice of his nail, David removed all the buttons on his shirt. It fell to the floor, his shoulders flexing as he released his wrists and came back to wrap me in his arms; skin on skin. My warmth, his tepid coolness, mixed with so much affection in that one embrace.

At some point, the playlist on my iPhone had progressed from John Mayer to Jeff Buckley; the haunting call of his melody adding only a surreal kind of charge to the room—making everything ghostly, as if we were in some ultra-hot film—nothing actually real. A script, a story, one that could not rightly happen, because no one could ever truly feel this way.

David’s golden muscles, warm and shadowed in the soft light, split the illusion, bringing me back, breathless. I either needed to fall down or start crying. Sweet, orange-chocolate filled the air as he kissed my cheek, his lips barely touching my skin, flowing gently over my neck, my collarbone. “Are you ready for this?” he asked in a deep whisper.

Each beat of my heart forced a small movement from me, making me jolt forward, the rhythm of the music my breath. “Yes.”

His hands slipped along my lower spine, a tickly, delicate touch, our chests, our hips, the skin on our stomachs finally touching as he pulled my body against his.

Everything tingled—alive with lust.

David Knight. My David, holding me the way I’ve dreamed of for so long. The boy with the sexy smile; the top student, musician, protector—my saviour. But a feeling surged in me, rising from someplace locked, barred away from the world. “I’m scared,” I whispered as our lips touched, softer, more terrifying than any kiss we’d ever had.