Maeve considered his words—the thought he’d put into his answer, and the conviction in his voice—and decided she agreed with him. She blew out a relieved breath, but couldn’t rid herself of the unwelcome truth. Sotiris didn’t have to catch up with them. He could simply pick up a phone and hire someone locally.
But for tonight, at least, they were safe, and she was feeling warm and happy when they arrived back at their room. Dragan had taken her hand as soon as they’d left the restaurant, and the night had been cloudless and mild, with no sign of vampires or any other danger. It had felt almost like a date. The best one she’d ever had. Maybe the best she’d ever have in the future.
Because she knew this couldn’t last, no matter how much she might want it to. She’d never even known a man like Dragan, much less spent time with him, laughing, holding hands. She swallowed her sigh, so he wouldn’t hear. As soon as they met up with Nicodemus—which she hoped would be soon, no matter what it might mean for her time with Dragan—he’d forget about her and go off with his old friends. Oh, sure, he’d kiss her cheek and make sure she was safe, but they wouldn’t be staying together. There was no way a man like Dragan could look at her bookish self and see a woman he wanted to keep around. She sighed again, and forgot to conceal it, catching his attention as he pushed the door shut and slid the various locks into place.
“Are you well, sweet?” he asked, turning to study her.
A blush heated her cheeks at the endearment, despite her earlier thoughts. “I’m okay,” she lied. “Just thinking about the next few days.”
He hummed wordlessly as he sat on the bed to unlace his boots.
Not wanting to deal with any awkward conversation about what might happen after they reached Florida—and especially not wanting to hear any platitudes from Dragan, who was far too kind to simply come out and tell her the inevitable truth—she dropped her purse on the table, her jacket on a chair, and grabbing her night clothes, headed for the bathroom.
When she emerged some time later—having done all the brushing and washing she could think of to delay the inevitable—the room was barely lit, with only the single, small lamp between the beds still on. Dragan was stretched out on his bed as usual, wearing nothing but sweatpants, arms behind his head, and covers shoved to the bottom of the bed. She doubted the pose was intentional, but it served to highlight the breadth of that fabulous chest, the ripped leanness of his abdomen, and his powerfully muscled arms. She would have stared, but his eyes were open, following her movements as she hung up her clothes and the jacket she’d tossed aside earlier. As usual, she was covered practically neck to ankle in loose-fitting sweats, which seemed like overkill since they’d actually slept in the same bed last night. But even though she was completely relaxed when they spent hours together in the car and ate all their meals together, somehow the presence of a bed brought out all her insecurities. Because well, he was Dragan, while she was a fucking virgin.
Hah! A fucking virgin. She’d made a pun. Terrific.
“We can sleep together again, if you’d like,” his deep voice said from behind her. “I’m good at chasing away nightmares for the people I love.”
Maeve sucked in a shocked breath. Love? Did he mean. . . . No, of course not. He meant brotherly love, sisterly . . . whatever. After all, they’d held hands earlier, and friends did that. And they’d been through a lot together. That alone made them friends.
“You sure?” she asked, turning to face him. “I mean, you don’t—”
“Come on, I won’t hurt you.”
“I know that,” she assured quickly. Bad enough that she was totally crushing on him. It would be so much worse if he thought she was worried he’d attack her. How insulting would that be? And with them committed to remaining together for at least the next several days, they’d both be miserable.
He lifted one powerful arm in invitation. “You can pull up the sheet if you’re cold.” There was laughter in his voice when he said it, and that, more than anything, got her moving. They were friends, and both wearing clothes, for God’s sake. Hell, she was swathed up like a nun. And besides, they’d slept side by side the previous night and nothing had happened. Damn it.
“Okay.” She moved quickly, before she could change her mind, covering the short distance between their beds in a single step, and slipping under the sheet he’d pulled up, as promised. His outstretched arm curled around her, pulling her into the heat of his body, tugging her head against his shoulder. Maeve had never slept with anyone except him, and wasn’t sure where to put her limbs. But Dragan did the work for her, pulling her free arm across his chest, while the other was curled between them. Her legs kept wanting to slide over his, but that seemed too intimate. She kept them straight as a soldier’s, but couldn’t avoid their close contact from shoulder to knee. And ultimately, she decided she didn’t want to. He was so big and warm, so beautifully built, so . . . Dragan.
She wanted to touch him. He was all the excitement and adventure of the last few days, but at the same time, so much more than that—smart, kind, and so very caring of her. She didn’t just want to touch him, she wanted him in a way she’d never wanted anyone else. Even knowing she was opening herself up for a hurt that dwarfed her stupid college boyfriend, she didn’t want to stop. Because she couldn’t imagine ever finding those feelings again. When they parted ways—which they would, of course—she’d miss him so fiercely. He was in her heart, and when he left, he’d take a piece of that fragile organ with him. A piece she’d never grow back.
“Dragan,” she said softly. So softly that she wasn’t absolutely sure she wanted him to hear.
“Mae.” He hugged her tightly, before running his hand down the length of her arm and up again.
She swallowed nervously, but forced herself to forge ahead. They’d be in Florida tomorrow, and maybe even find Nicodemus the next day. This, tonight, might be her only chance. And if she didn’t take it, she’d regret it forever. “Can I kiss you?” she whispered.
He stiffened against her. She immediately regretted asking, and opened her mouth to apologize. But in the next instant, he’d pulled her halfway over his chest, putting them face to face, so he could meet her gaze.
“Come here,” he crooned. And then he was kissing her. With one arm around her back holding her against him, the other curled around the nape of her neck, his hand so big that his thumb was caressing her jaw, he positioned her just as he wanted when their mouths met.
Maeve was in heaven. She’d never known a kiss could be like this. His lips were firm, but ever so gentle as they moved over hers, as he coaxed her lips apart and slid his tongue between them to glide over her teeth, twisting gently around her tongue, urging her to dance with his. She followed his lead, not knowing what else to do, wanting to get closer to feel more of what he was doing.