As the silence stuck around, she cleared her throat. Shifted her weight back and forth. Filled the time looking at the messy bed. The black clothes draped over the chaise longue. The shoes that had been kicked off over by the closet. The towel hanging off the top of the open door into the marble bathroom.
“So…” She cleared her throat. “That is what I came here to say.”
Dearest Virgin Scribe, was this it between them?
“How long?” he asked roughly.
“I’m sorry?”
“How long do you have? Until the next … whatever it is. When was the last one?”
Two weeks … or actually thirteen days. “A month ago. Maybe longer.”
His shoulders eased up. “I meant to ask that before.”
Again he went quiet.
“Trez, I really am sorry—”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. You’re just where you’re at. I’m not offended, and I’m not going to try to change your mind about how you feel.”
“You seem offended.”
“I’m not.”
“Trez—”
“How are you doing?”
“Fine,” she snapped. And then reeled in her temper. “I’m sorry. I just … it’s like you’re freezing me out.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not talking to me.”
“Then why are my lips moving.”
“How is this happening again,” she muttered as she mirrored his pose, crossing her arms over her own chest. “I just want things to be … normal between us.”
“They are.”
“Bullshit! You’re standing over there like a statue—that’s my job, okay? I’m the one who’s supposed to be frozen. Why can’t you be real, and tell me to screw off, or that I was a bitch, or—”
“You want me to be honest?”
“Yes! Damn it.” God, she was sounding less and less like a Chosen. Cursing, using vernacular. Then again, she was feeling less and less like a Chosen. “Hello? You going to say something?”
“You sure?”
“For the love … look, do you just want me to go—”
“No. I want you on your back, in my bed, with your legs spread and my mouth all over you.”
Selena stopped talking. Breathing. Thinking.
He cocked an eyebrow. “That honest enough for you? Or do you want me to go back to pretending I’m not thinking about sex right now. With you.”
Okay, now she was the one being quiet. And he laughed harshly.
“Not what you had in mind, huh. I don’t blame you.” He turned the knob on the door and opened things up, repeating his “after you” gesture. “If you want to keep talking now, I suggest that you let me get dressed and meet up with you on neutral territory.”
Selena looked down at his hips. She had known his body fully only once, when he had taken her virginity, and she was well aware that he was phearsom.
Was he hard now?
“Selena?” A flash of annoyance tightened his face. “Let me meet you downstairs. In the kitchen.”
Without conscious thought, she brought her aching hands to the tie on her robe.
His eyes instantly tracked the movement.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
She pulled the knot free and let the length of silk fall loose. With every breath she took, the robe parted a little further, until a path of flesh running from her throat to her sex was exposed. Trez’s stare, that dark stare, dipped low, and all at once, the scent of him surged, filling the room with an erotic spice.
Selena eased the robe from her shoulders, letting the soft fabric drift to the floor. “Close the door, would you. I’d like some privacy.”
TWENTY-ONE
Trez’s cock had its own heartbeat. And that was before Selena went full-frontal at him. After that reveal? The damn thing had its own conscious thought pattern.
Mine.
When he heard the door shut, he wasn’t sure whether some hand of his had reclosed it, or whether he’d simply willed the thing back into place.
“You sure about this?” he growled, already taking a step toward her. “Because I won’t be able to stop.”
“Yes.” Her eyes did not rise to meet his. They stayed locked at his hips. “Oh, yes. Let me see you.”
As he came to stand right in front of her, he said, “What about all those humans I was with.”
“You’re going to bring them up now?” She took the tie to his own robe with one of her hands. “Really?”
He stopped her from getting him naked. “Nothing has changed about me.”
“That’s your hang-up, not mine.”
“In my tradition—”