“I’m curious, too.”
His eyes snapped to mine. “What?”
Operating on pure nerve, I clarified. “I’ve never kissed a vampire before.” I didn’t have to admit that I’d wondered what it would be like to kiss him specifically, right? “So I’m curious about what it’s like.” At the thunderstruck look on his face I added, “Purely from an intellectual standpoint.”
A beat. “Of course.”
“For science, honestly.”
“Science.”
“Comparison purposes.”
“What other purpose could there be?”
We stood there in the kitchen for what felt like entire minutes, just staring at each other. The soup was still bubbling on the stove. It sort of smelled like it was burning at this point. I didn’t care.
I took another step closer, until we were near enough to one another that I could see all the variations of color within his dark eyes. They weren’t a monochromatic brown, like they appeared from a distance. His irises contained very subtle pinpricks of hazel as well, combining with the brown to create the richest, most beautiful eye color I’d ever seen.
I licked my lips. His eyes fell directly to my mouth.
“What do you think about us showing each other what it’s like?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “For science. And comparison purposes.”
I nodded. “I’m hardly an expert, but I’m probably at least as knowledgeable about modern kissing trends as that article.”
His jaw tightened. “Probably.”
“And given that I am your point person for lessons on living in the modern era—”
“It only makes sense that it should be you,” he agreed. “Likewise, I do not claim to be an expert at vampire kissing, but . . .”
He trailed off. His eyes were still focused on my mouth.
The offer was out there, now—for both of us. There was no taking it back now.
Before I could remind myself that kissing this gorgeous, undead man who wanted to make me chicken soup and said he liked my art might end up being the worst decision I’d made in a lifetime full of not-great decisions, I placed my hand on his chest, right over the place where his heart would be beating if he were human.
He closed his eyes, taking several very deep breaths. He inclined his head a little towards me, again making me wonder if he could hear, or even smell, my heartbeat.
He covered my hand on his chest with one of his own. His palm was so cool against my heated skin. He squeezed my hand gently, making me shiver, and shifted even closer to me.
And then he kissed me, just a gentle, barely there press of his lips to mine. He pulled back a half moment later, ending the kiss as soon as it began. To give me an out if this wasn’t what I wanted.
“I—we—kiss like this,” he whispered. I traced his plush bottom lip with the tip of my index finger, thrilling at the way his eyes fluttered closed at my touch. Slowly, as though moving through a dream, I cupped his cheek in my hand, tilting his face a fraction so he had to look me in the eyes.
His eyes were heavy-lidded, unfocused.
He needed no further encouragement.
The second brush of our lips was chaste and unhurried, his free hand coming up to cup my face in a mirror image of how I was now touching him. His mouth was as soft as it looked, in sharp contrast with the rasp of his stubble against my palm and the hard lines of his body as it pressed against mine. From a distance I could hear the grandfather clock down the hall marking time, but it felt like time had stopped—Frederick’s arms slowly coming around my body to pull me closer, the steady beat of my heart an indelible reminder of just how long I’d wanted this to happen.
My fingers soon wound their way into his hair, carding through his impossibly soft locks. The tug of my hands seemed to unlock something inside him. He pulled me closer, allowing me to feel every cool, unyielding inch of him against the front of my body. His breath hitched as he tilted his head again and kissed my mouth with intentionality and considerably more pressure than he’d used before. I opened to him instinctively, his quiet, needful intensity parting my lips before I even realized it had happened.
And then it was over. He pulled back abruptly, resting his forehead against mine, breathing very hard for someone who didn’t technically need oxygen to survive. He shook his head minutely and then squeezed his eyes tightly shut, like he was trying to regain control over a situation that was rapidly slipping through his fingers.
“That,” he breathed, “is what it is like to kiss a vampire.”
From a technical standpoint it turned out to be not much different from kissing anyone else. And yet I’d never experienced anything like it. He still held on to me, his arms wound just as tightly around my body as they’d been while we were kissing—which was a good thing, as my knees felt moments away from buckling under my weight. As he worked to calm his breathing I detected the faint but unmistakable metallic scent of blood on his breath. I wondered if self-consciousness over a recent meal was why he’d ended our kiss so abruptly.
When he opened his eyes, his expression was so guarded I knew both that the mutual kissing lessons were over, and that whatever the reason for it was, I shouldn’t pry.
“You did well, too,” I said, trying to sound—feel—detached about the whole thing. The reality, of course, was that I felt anything but detached. I wanted to kiss him again. Right then. With a reserve of will I didn’t know I possessed I stepped back, but not before I registered the flash of disappointment that crossed his face when I moved away. “You’ve got the modern trends down, I’d say. You’re a quick learner.”
Frederick straightened, then gave me a self-possessed smile that stole the breath from my lungs.
“So I’ve been told,” he said.
FOURTEEN
Lord and Lady James Jameson XXIII
and Mrs. Edwina Fitzwilliam
Do Hereby Request the Honor of Your Presence at the Wedding of Their Children
miss esmeralda jameson
and
mr. frederick j. fitzwilliam
~ Date and Time to Be Determined ~
The Ballroom, Castle Jameson
New York, New York
Light refreshments and bloodletting will be provided
~ The couple is registered at Crate & Feral ~
“Answer me this,” I said, staring at Frederick. “For someone who claims to be clueless about modern society, how did you pick up on how to dress so well from one measly little trip to Nordstrom?”