celiabreslin

We came watching each other pleasure ourselves. The thought sent more tremors tumbling through me. Alexander’s expression, the hungry heat in his eyes, told me he shared my satisfaction.

[…]

“So,” I began, unable to keep the satisfied grin off my face.

“So,” he echoed, licking his lower lip.

“That was fun.”

“Fun,” he parroted me again.

I straightened my spine and rolled my neck and shoulders, breathing deep to ground myself in a non-sexual reality. I hadn’t yet mentioned Dixon’s return or the unusual gift the evil bastard had sent me.

[…]

I opened my mouth to start the “Dixon is back” conversation and chickened out. “We should do that every night,” I blurted instead. “Come to think of it, why haven’t we? That was so much better than doing it alone.”

Heat crept over my cheeks. Had I just said that out loud?

[…]

He chuckled, a sexy rumble that twitched my insides. “I love it when you blush for me.”

“I don’t.” I covered my cheeks with my palms.

Two months of dating and our fated status as soul mates slash bonded vampire mates, and still he possessed the power to make me react like a giddy teenager. I loved and hated that blushing schoolgirl reaction, but he made every moment with him -—online or offline -— feel like that first exciting moment when our eyes met across a crowded room, or in our case, across a crowded hallway in a museum. Or like our first touch on the dance floor in my club. Electric. All-consuming. Inevitable.

I used to laugh at my psychic pal Faith whenever she’d talk of destiny and fate, then one look at Alexander and voilà -— game over.