“What?” he said, poised and waiting.

The hell with it. “Never mind,” I said, playing with the hair about his ear.

His soft hand under my halter top went still. “You want me to stop?”

A second stab of feeling struck through me. I felt my eyes close. “No,” I breathed, hearing a hundred well-thought-out convictions die in that word. Heart pounding, I slipped my amulets from me and dropped them to the carpet—I wanted to feel everything—but it wasn’t until I reached for his belt buckle that he understood.

A low guttural sound escaped him, and he dropped his head to mine. His weight was a welcomed warmth pressing on me as his lips found my demon scar and gently mouthed it.

Fire spilled like molten stone through me to my groin, and I gasped as the sensation rebounded and multiplied. The dull aches from my recent demon attack mutated into pleasure, courtesy of the old vampire saliva he was playing upon. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. My hands jerked out from where I had been trying to undo his pants, and I clutched his shoulder. “Kisten,” I breathed when I was able to take a shuddering breath.

But he didn’t let up, pushing me down until my head was on the arm of the couch. My fingers dug into him as gentle teeth replaced his lips. A groan escaped me, and he worked the scar, his teeth soft and his breath harsh. I wanted him. I wanted all of him.

“Kisten …” I pushed at him. I had to ask first. I had to know.

“What?” he said flatly as he pushed my shirt and halter out of the way and his fingers found my breast and began moving, promising more.

In the gap between us, I finally got his belt undone. I gave a tug, and I heard a rivet snap through. His head dropped back to me, and before he could find my neck again and send me into an unaware ecstasy, I undid his zipper and sent my hands searching. God save me, I thought as I found him, the smooth skin tight under my questing fingers. “You’ve had sex with a witch before?” I whispered, pushing his jeans down and running my hand across his backside.

“I know what I’m getting into,” he said breathily.

I felt myself melt into the couch as my thoughts and shoulders eased. My hands found him again, and he exhaled long and slow. “I didn’t want to assume—” I said, then gasped as he dropped his weight lower and pulled my shirt up. “I didn’t want you to be surprised… . Oh God. Kisten,” I panted, almost frantic with need as his lips moved from under my jaw to my collarbone and then to my breast. Waves of promise rose high, and I arched my back as he pulled, his hands warm against my skin. Where was he? I couldn’t reach that far.

He silenced my whisper as he lifted his face and kissed me. Now I could reach, and my breath slipped from me in bliss as I grasped him and sent my fingers moving lower. “Kisten …”