Would she have slept with him? Ursula studied his handsome features, his stubborn chin, his large nose, and strong eyebrows. She tried not to look at his lips, but they were hard to avoid. Yes, had they met on a university campus or been introduced at a party, she would have dated him, taken him back to her dorm room and stripped him naked. But this was not how it had happened.

She shook her head. “No!”

“Liar,” he whispered without malice. “My pretty little liar. How much I wish right now to still be human.”

Frozen in place, she watched his lips approach. When they touched hers, it seemed without haste, almost as if he was giving her time to pull back. Yet she couldn’t escape the growing need inside her, even though she didn’t want to admit it to herself. She wanted to feel his lips again.

When his mouth pressed more firmly against hers, she tilted her head and parted her lips. A low groan came from Oliver’s throat and bounced against her. Then his tongue stroked over her lips before dipping inside her.

She’d never felt anything so soft and . . . gentle, almost as if he was afraid of scaring or hurting her. But the only thing that scared her more than his kiss was her reaction to it. If he asked her now whether she would have slept with him, her answer would be a resounding yes. Luckily, he was too busy kissing her to ask any more questions.

14

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he was kissing Ursula. But this time, he enjoyed it even more than the first time. Taking his time, Oliver coaxed her into the kiss with gentle, teasing strokes. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare her off. It would be challenging enough to get her to trust him and look past the fact that he was the very creature she hated. Therefore, he would play against type: be gentle instead of demanding, tender instead of aggressive, and soft instead hard.

Well, maybe not the latter: it was physically impossible as he could already feel. Because he was hard, rock hard. The moment he’d seen her contemplate his question whether she would sleep with him if he were human, blood had shot into his cock and made it swell.

Despite his resolution not to come across as demanding and aggressive, Oliver ground his hips against her belly, pressing her harder against the wall. Everything male in him wanted to make her aware of his need. When she acknowledged the fact that she felt his erection with a low moan, he wanted to howl. But instead of intensifying his kiss, he held onto his control with every fiber of his being.

Easy, he cautioned himself.

His hand combed through her silken hair, the texture of it soft yet strong and perfectly straight. As he continued to delve into the warm cavern of her mouth and dance seductively with her, his thumb stroked along the plump vein on her neck. It pulsed under his caress, calling to him. He ignored that particular need, knowing that he couldn’t go there: if he bit her, she would never sleep with him, and right now, his need to feel his body joined with hers was stronger than his craving for blood. Much stronger.

In fact, his desire to have sex with her nearly completely drowned out his need for blood. Nothing had ever managed to do that. Ever since he’d become a vampire two months earlier, he hadn’t even felt the need for sex, because his craving for blood had overshadowed everything. His few trips to Vera’s brothel had—common to contrary belief—not been for the purpose of sex. Rather he’d gone there for the company.

When he felt Ursula shove one hand into his hair and caress his nape with the other, a shiver raced down his spine. He ripped his lips from hers, taking a much needed breath of air.

“Oh God, baby!”

Then he sank his lips onto her neck and planted open-mouthed kisses onto her hot skin.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, and slid one hand down her torso.

When he encountered her braless breast and cupped it, Ursula let out a sigh. Then a breathless word came from her lips. “Yes.”

Both man and vampire in him howled triumphantly. He nibbled his way to her earlobe, while continuing to tease her breast, his fingers capturing her hardened nipple through the fabric. With every moment, her breathing became more erratic, her heartbeat faster. Her scent changed: the sweet smell of arousal now teased his nostrils, awakening the vampire inside him. But he couldn’t allow the beast to come to the surface. Too much depended on how she perceived him, and unleashing his untamed side would only destroy what progress he’d made so far.

After all, Ursula was responding to him, clearly forgetting that she was kissing a vampire and allowing him to touch her intimately. Allowing him to arouse her. Just like she aroused him. He didn’t want to destroy this feeling by reminding her of what he was: a predator.