I wished I could be as sure as he was.

But my body was certain of what it wanted. No matter what had transpired between us, I needed him on a primal, visceral level. His blood was in me, making me a part of him. I couldn't seem to touch him enough, even as his mouth covered mine again and again, even as his hands found their way to my back, pulling me tight against him. I rose on my knees before him, and he mimicked my action, pulling his shirt off in the process. I actually moaned at just the sight of him, his pale skin pulled taut over hard muscle. The scars from the Soul Eater's spell still marred his chest and arms, and I wondered briefly at the power of a magic that could leave permanent marks on a vampire. But rational thought fled when he reached for me. Like always, Nathan could make the complications of the world disappear for me when I was in his arms. Not because I was an affected flower prone to swooning, but because everything about him—his body, his mind, his scent, his touch, his problems—everything was larger than life.

And you always get caught up in it, and you always fall, and he's never there to catch you.

I ignored that warning voice, ignored every thought in my self-righteous brain, because Nathan was touching me, so everything was all right.

He slipped my T-shirt over my head and bent his face to my neck. It was nearly impossible to stay upright with his skin rubbing on mine, his mouth burning a trail across my collarbones. It was too much sensation after being apart too long, and when I moaned, felt an echoing shudder in his body.

"I've missed this," he rasped, lifting my breasts in his hands to kiss the tops of them. "God, I've missed this. I've missed you."

I clutched his hair in my fingers and held his face close. He smelled wonderful, like the sandalwood of his soap and the heavy opiate smell of the incense he burned in the shop. I almost screamed in need when his hands slid to my back and curved over my buttocks, pulling my vulnerable, naked flesh forward to make contact with the rough denim of his jeans. I reached between us and fumbled with the button at his waistband, and he pushed my hands away. "Wait, wait. Slow down. We've got all day."

"I don't want to take all day," I panted, punctuating my statement with a firm tug at his jeans.

His eyes darkened and he stared down at me for a long, silent moment. "I'm so glad you said that."