I get comfortable on my bed, enjoying the way she stares at me when she doesn’t think I’m paying attention, and how easy it is to make her nervous when I play with my blade.

After some uncomfortable chitchat, in which I talk about my childhood and Father’s horrible parenting—all true—I proceed to make her jealous with the texts I’m receiving from other girls, which is adorable. So far she’s playing directly into my hand, but her questions and need for knowledge eventually sidetrack my efforts. She seems fascinated that I’m always using my supernatural abilities. Her hatred of her Neph senses is baffling. She needs to be proud of her heritage, to understand the benefit of her extended senses. I go over and sit next to where she’s lying on her bed, and she gets skittish, trying to scoot away.

“No, stay lying down,” I say, touching her arm. “I want to show you something.”

I want to show her a lot of things, and I daresay she knows this by now. She narrows those little brown eyes at me, and I have to laugh.

“Calm down, luv.” I find that I say “luv” a lot more since I moved to the States. American girls go crazy for it. Not sure it’s working on Anna yet, but it’s worth a try.

“What are you going to do?” Her sweet voice and light Southern accent go straight to my crotch, and I’m glad she’s at an angle where she can’t see.

“Nothing that will compromise your virtue and have Patti hunting me down. Now close your eyes.” I’d promised Patti I’d bring Anna home safely, with her virtue intact. I plan to keep only the first part of that promise, even though I quite like Patti. What neither of them realize is that Anna’s virtue is the very thing that will put her in danger.

What I’m planning is a simple exercise to build her trust, to show her I’m more than a sex fiend. I want her to see that her senses can be pleasant. And maybe I want to touch her, just a small bit.

At first I don’t think she’s going to play along. Then she lets out a huff and lies back.

Good girl.

But God, she’s stiff as a board.

“Now, I want you to relax and concentrate on your sense of touch. I’ll be a good boy. I promise.”

I am planning to be good.

I watch as she exhales and relaxes. I can imagine the tingling she feels as she opens her nerve endings to full exposure. And I remember something cool that my Neph friend Marna once showed me when we were younger. Without touching any other part of her, I press my fingertip into the palm of her nearest hand.

I smile when she gasps. “I can sense your fingerprint!”

Wicked. Wait until she feels what’s next. I scoot down and take her foot into my hand. I watch Anna’s face soften with bliss as I knead and press my fingers against her sole. Then I move up to her ankle, and suddenly her eyes pop open as she wrenches her knees to her chest.

What’d I do?

“Wait,” she says. “Not my legs. They’re . . .”

What is she going on about? “They’re lovely.” In fact, they’re killer.

“No, please. I didn’t have time to shave this morning.”

I throw my head back and laugh. Call me sick and twisted, but it takes a hell of a lot more than a little hair to bother me. Her paranoia is adorable, though.

“All right, fine, no legs. But you’re missing out. I’m not through with you. Roll onto your stomach and relax again.”

She obeys immediately, and I’m so relaxed I forget to mentally prepare myself for the sight of . . .

“Mmm.” I don’t mean to moan. It just sort of slips out. But her arse . . . blimey, it’s fucking perfect. I bite down hard on my knuckle.

“What?” she mutters into the pillow.

“Oh, nothing.” Except I can’t think straight. “It’s just that you’ve got quite a nice little—”

Damn, she moves quick. She’s glaring sharply and I hold up my hands. Little Ann can be feisty when she wants.

“Sorry! A guy can’t help but notice. Truly—best behavior—starting now.” I want her to hurry and lie back down so I can stare at that arse again. This is far too fun.

She rolls back over, slowly and warily, and then—hello, perfect bum. Would it be okay if I touch it? Just once?

No. This is Anna Whitt. It would decidedly not be okay to touch the bum. I recognize that my self-control is unwinding bit by bit. I’m unaccustomed to looking and not touching. Sampling and not devouring. This moment is pushing my limits. I must stay calm, moving us to the next level. My voice comes out low and husky when I talk.

“I need you to trust me and stay relaxed. I’m just going to raise your shirt a bit so I can get to your back.”

Is she buying this? She doesn’t move, so I take that as permission to gently pull her shirt upward and expose her soft, creamy back. My breathing goes a bit wonky. Angel girl is letting me see her skin. She’s going to let me touch her. She’s trusting me.

My fingers sink into the soft skin and muscle on her lower back, working slow circles.

Holy Mary, I’m all but panting. Get it together, Rowe! This is the least sexual thing I’ve done in ages, and it’s turning me on more than a bloody van full of naked girls.

I run my fingers across her back until she’s covered in goose flesh. She is reacting to me, and I need to touch her with more than just my fingers. My hands press down, massaging harder, gripping her waist in my hands. I need more.

I try to shake the rising fog from my head, but it’s no use. My own sense of touch begins to open itself, my skin buzzing with neediness. She feels like silk.

I need more.

My hands go farther, past her satin bra, up to her shoulders. I might rip her shirt, and I don’t bloody care. I am nearly beyond thinking. Her pheromones and red aura encircle me, grip me.

I am need.

I am greed.

And I take what I want.

Her skin calls to me, and I’m above her, moving her hair aside and breathing in the warmth of her neck. I have to taste her or I think I will die—implode—explode—something terrible will happen.

I home in on the spot under her ear, and my desperate lips finally touch her . . . this is my heaven. Her neck is heated, and she lifts her chin, allowing me to kiss further. Her body slightly twists, angling toward me. I open my mouth, dragging my tongue along the silk and salt and sweetness of her. Up to her jaw. And then she’s turning, her hands are in my hair, and she’s leading my mouth to hers.

I am overwhelmed by this kiss. She must be using angel voodoo on me because I can’t think. I can’t. I’m trying, but all I can feel is her lips. I’m more lost to the world than I’ve ever been. I want to let go and never come back. Lose myself in her for eternity.

I need more. I need all of her. Her stomach is so smooth. The satin of her bra is filled with a mouthful of flesh that’s sure to be the most succulent—

Abruptly, Anna shoves me away and I feel as if I’ve been doused by fire.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

Bloody hell, my heart is pounding like an amateur’s. I cannot let her know how freaked out I am.

She’s panting. “You promised to be on your best behavior.” Her aura is a mix of grays and red. I’m suddenly furious we’re not still kissing. Why would anyone put a halt to such epicness?

“You kissed me, Anna,” I remind her.

“Well, you started it by kissing my neck.”

Mmm, her neck. It’d been so warm and inviting. “True. I hadn’t planned that.”

She paces the room, attempting to fix her hair, but she’s too angry and lustful. She’s shaking.

“Why did you stop?” I ask.

“Because you were moving on to other things.”

What other things? Oh . . . I suppose my hand did wander a bit, didn’t it? “Hmm, moved too quickly. Rookie mistake.”

Judging by the way she crosses her arms, it probably would have been best to keep that thought inside my head. I’m still not quite thinking straight. Why is she having this effect on me? And for the love of all things holy, why aren’t we still snogging?