Sweet Temptation (The Sweet Trilogy #4)(33)

I’ve moved across the room until I’m just behind her, and I swear she’s so focused and lost in thought she doesn’t notice. Even after meeting her father and knowing fully what dangers are out there, she is still too trusting. It’s a damn good thing it’s only me creeping up behind her, and not some dangerous bloke.

And then I remember I am a dangerous bloke where Anna is concerned. I still plan to keep her safe from my father by taking her virginity at the first possible opportunity. It’s for her own good. The fact that I’ll enjoy the hell out of it is inconsequential. The thought of being that close to her sends a stream of heated adrenaline and need through my blood.

Before I can advise myself otherwise, I’m reaching for her waist. She startles at my touch, and I pull the back of her closer into me.

“Just me, luv,” I say. I shouldn’t let myself get this close, because I can hear the lust in my own voice. I wonder if she can hear it, as well. I wonder if she’s feeling the same. There is barely any space between us now, and I’m breathing in her scent from behind like a fiend who can’t get enough. Why must she smell so lovely?

“Kai . . . you shouldn’t . . .”

No, I really, really should.

I feel her tremble in my hands. “Unless you’re going to be my boyfriend, you shouldn’t touch me like this.”

Boyfriend. I go still, and for a heartbeat I want to smile. Would she want to be attached to me in such a way? Never once in all my life has the word boyfriend had a smiling effect on me. Boyfriend and girlfriend are the most useless, flimsy labels out there, yet people put such stock in them. They trust those labels to mean so much more.

But hearing Anna say it is rather charming and ironic. Like a lethal poison in a candy shell. She has no idea. None at all.

“The Neph are not permitted to be in relationships,” I say against her hair. “Especially not with one another.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Nobody has to know. Just us.”

I am a maelstrom of emotion, spinning too quickly. I want to embrace this moment, have something all to myself, hide her away where she can remain as she is and say these sweet things to me all she wants. I’m filled with a longing far stronger and deeper than lust, and it makes my heart race. I’m out of bounds. Out of my territory. In a perilous place where I cannot afford to be. Ever.

“It can never happen,” I say. And I wonder if I’m saying it to her or myself.

Her body stiffens and her chin rises as she gently pries my hands from around her waist. I want to thank her for doing the thing I couldn’t do myself. I’m glad one of us is strong enough.

I leave her, taking deep breaths the entire way to the hotel room, attempting to shake off the odd sensations. This has gotten out of hand. I’ve allowed myself too much leniency where Anna is concerned. It began with harmless fun, but now it’s got to stop. Both our lives are at stake, and it’s time for me to control the reins.

Tonight, I will take things one step further and show Anna how good it tastes to live on the wild side. I’ll buy some alcohol. She’s such a lightweight—she’d be seeing the world differently after one wine cooler. I need for her to embrace her fate.

I’m primed and poised when Anna returns. I go for casual, lying on the bed with my feet crossed and a hand behind my head, pretending to watch the telly. She puts the clothes away and rummages through her bags, finally plopping a large book onto the opposite bed. I ignore her scowl.

“What are you getting into?” I ask.

She shoots me a suspicious and rather annoyed glance before saying, “English.”

Brilliant. Father made me study the great “romantics.” While Anna was memorizing Bible verses in Sunday school, I was memorizing Shakespeare and Byron, and any other rubbish that might get me into girls’ knickers.

I flick off the television and go to Anna’s bed, opening her book as I lie down. I wonder if she’ll be impressed with my skills. I am English, after all. I flick through the pages, and Anna sits as far away as possible. Hm. I’ll need to remedy that. I land on the sonnets but am quickly distracted when Anna begins to unbraid her hair. With each wavy strand that is freed from its binding, the book and all of our surroundings disappear.

Anna Whitt’s hair is bloody amazing. It’s a sin she keeps it held back all the time. It’s like heavy, golden silk falling around her, and her face is in absolute bliss as she runs her hands through it.

Must touch it . . .

Hot, raging longing fills my every cell. Blood pumps so fiercely in my ears that I cannot hear the beast pawing the ground, but I know it is, because I’m salivating. When she glances at me I quickly look down. I think she might’ve caught me.

She flicks through some pages and I can’t make out what she’s muttered.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

I’m afraid she’s about to order me off her bed, but instead she goes on about the summer poetry assignment. Passion is spouting from her pores and I sit up. I can’t wait to throw my poetic genius at her.

She goes on and on, oblivious of her own beauty as she waves her fists and purses her lips in indignation. “The beauty of poetry is that it can mean different things to different people at different times. . . . It’s wrong to dissect poetry like this!”

She throws down her paper, breathing hard, and I suddenly cannot recall a single line of poetry I’ve memorized. All I can think about is touching her. Taking a chance that she might slap the shit out of me, I cup her face, surprised how hot her soft cheek is in my hand.