going to kiss her. She whimpered, startled by both the occurrence and how wonderful his lips felt pressed to hers, cool like his fingers but leaving fire in their wake as they moved, carefully, gently sampling her.
The kiss wasn't one of domination or uncontrollable passion. It was slow and gentle, even a little uncertain. But that didn't temper her response. If anything, his tentative caresses fired her desire far more than the wildest kiss. His mouth worshipped her as if he were touching something fragile and precious. She imagined him lavishing that same considerate attention on her whole body. Her toes curled in her sneakers.
She moaned, the sound vibrating between their lips. Then his mouth was gone. In fact, he broke all contact, his hand moving away from her cheek, his fingers releasing hers.
No, her body cried out. She didn't want to stop. Never had anything felt that perfect, that right. But instead of voicing her protest, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
Christian stood a few inches from her, his gaze not on her, but on the ground. His artfully messy hair shielded his face, making it impossible to see his reaction. Was he upset? Did he regret kissing her? Or was he as shaken by the perfection of the touch as she was?
"Christian?"
He stared at the ground a second more, and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed as though he was forcibly calming himself. Finally he raised his head. His eyes looked even more intense than usual and a little wild. The pallor of his skin was deathly pale, and his cheekbones and jawline appeared more pronounced.
"Are you all right?" she asked, taking a step toward him.
He looked away again.
"I have to go," he said. His voice sounded rough and deep, all his smoothly accented words gone.
"What's wrong?" She started to reach for him, but he jerked back as if her slightest touch would burn him.
"I can't talk now." He stumbled backward toward his trailer, all his usual grace gone.
"I will see you tomorrow," he added, almost as an afterthought.
She nodded, although she wanted to follow him and demand to know what was wrong. Really wrong. How could he go from kissing her so gently to looking like a half-crazed maniac?
He spun and bounded up his stairs, closing the door with a sharp bang behind him. She stayed in the middle of the road, dazed. What had just happened? She considered his paleness, his wild eyes, his sudden anxiety. She'd seen all those behaviors before.
No, she didn't want to go there. Especially not after he'd just given her the best kiss of her life. Not after she'd just reacted to him like she had no other man. But she'd known right along something had to be wrong with Christian. Very wrong for him to be here in Shady Fork. And she did know what those kinds of symptoms— paleness, acting crazy, and anxiety— meant. Vance had looked just the same way the other night.
She'd been stupid to forget. He might be beautiful. And often quite gallant. And very possibly the best kisser in the world. She also knew she'd been right about him. He had a problem. She just hadn't known exactly what the problem was. Her chest tightened and her throat felt like she couldn't pull in enough air as the truth hit her. And she absolutely knew what a drug problem looked like.
* * *
Christian paced back and forth in front of the window, his agitated movements hidden from her by the darkness of his trailer and sheer curtains. She remained in the road, staring at his trailer, bewilderment clear in her dark eyes. He continued to pace, trying to calm the need raging in him. Willing her to go into her trailer and take temptation out of his sight.
She finally climbed her steps and disappeared inside. But her absence didn't lessen his yearning. He ached with it, every muscle in him tense and throbbing. Why had he kissed her? He hadn't even realized his own purpose until his mouth was pressed to her lush, wide lips.
Since crossing over, he'd never had the inclination to kiss a mortal.
The kiss wasn't one of domination or uncontrollable passion. It was slow and gentle, even a little uncertain. But that didn't temper her response. If anything, his tentative caresses fired her desire far more than the wildest kiss. His mouth worshipped her as if he were touching something fragile and precious. She imagined him lavishing that same considerate attention on her whole body. Her toes curled in her sneakers.
She moaned, the sound vibrating between their lips. Then his mouth was gone. In fact, he broke all contact, his hand moving away from her cheek, his fingers releasing hers.
No, her body cried out. She didn't want to stop. Never had anything felt that perfect, that right. But instead of voicing her protest, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
Christian stood a few inches from her, his gaze not on her, but on the ground. His artfully messy hair shielded his face, making it impossible to see his reaction. Was he upset? Did he regret kissing her? Or was he as shaken by the perfection of the touch as she was?
"Christian?"
He stared at the ground a second more, and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed as though he was forcibly calming himself. Finally he raised his head. His eyes looked even more intense than usual and a little wild. The pallor of his skin was deathly pale, and his cheekbones and jawline appeared more pronounced.
"Are you all right?" she asked, taking a step toward him.
He looked away again.
"I have to go," he said. His voice sounded rough and deep, all his smoothly accented words gone.
"What's wrong?" She started to reach for him, but he jerked back as if her slightest touch would burn him.
"I can't talk now." He stumbled backward toward his trailer, all his usual grace gone.
"I will see you tomorrow," he added, almost as an afterthought.
She nodded, although she wanted to follow him and demand to know what was wrong. Really wrong. How could he go from kissing her so gently to looking like a half-crazed maniac?
He spun and bounded up his stairs, closing the door with a sharp bang behind him. She stayed in the middle of the road, dazed. What had just happened? She considered his paleness, his wild eyes, his sudden anxiety. She'd seen all those behaviors before.
No, she didn't want to go there. Especially not after he'd just given her the best kiss of her life. Not after she'd just reacted to him like she had no other man. But she'd known right along something had to be wrong with Christian. Very wrong for him to be here in Shady Fork. And she did know what those kinds of symptoms— paleness, acting crazy, and anxiety— meant. Vance had looked just the same way the other night.
She'd been stupid to forget. He might be beautiful. And often quite gallant. And very possibly the best kisser in the world. She also knew she'd been right about him. He had a problem. She just hadn't known exactly what the problem was. Her chest tightened and her throat felt like she couldn't pull in enough air as the truth hit her. And she absolutely knew what a drug problem looked like.
* * *
Christian paced back and forth in front of the window, his agitated movements hidden from her by the darkness of his trailer and sheer curtains. She remained in the road, staring at his trailer, bewilderment clear in her dark eyes. He continued to pace, trying to calm the need raging in him. Willing her to go into her trailer and take temptation out of his sight.
She finally climbed her steps and disappeared inside. But her absence didn't lessen his yearning. He ached with it, every muscle in him tense and throbbing. Why had he kissed her? He hadn't even realized his own purpose until his mouth was pressed to her lush, wide lips.
Since crossing over, he'd never had the inclination to kiss a mortal.
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