I was so preoccupied I didn’t realize Julian had fallen silent.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “It’s a lot to process.”
“You should eat. You’re beginning to smell like pure sugarcane,” he said softly. He tried to withdraw his hands, but I held one firmly in place.
“Why do you cover up your magic?” I asked, realizing that he might never be open to this topic again.
“So we don’t use it,” he said, surprising me. “Sometimes when we touch someone else…”
My eyes widened as I began to understand. “Is it dangerous?”
“No and yes.”
“That’s very helpful,” I said dryly.
“It can be used to hurt someone, but only in those of us born long ago. Most modern vampires couldn’t light a candle with their magic. But more importantly, it carries our life. Why do you think vampires feed on human blood?”
I shook my head. I suspected that everything I’d read or seen in movies was wrong. So far it all had been, anyway. He didn’t sleep in a coffin. I’d seen him in a mirror myself. And Jacqueline had worn a St. Michael’s charm.
“There’s a little magic in all creatures, even humans that have long forgotten or shunned it. It sustains our own lives. But the truth is that we cover our hands because vampires believe sharing our touch is one of the most intimate acts we can experience.”
My mouth went suddenly dry at the implication of his words. He had chosen to share it with me. I swallowed. “What are the other acts?”
He tilted his head, looking confused.
“The other acts?” I pressed. “You said it was one of the most intimate acts. What are the others.”
He nodded. Bending lower, he brought his lips to brush over mine before sweeping them across my jaw to my neck. “To feed, obviously. It’s one of the reasons we usually drink from a cup.”
“Usually?” I asked.
“No one is perfect,” he said lightly.
“Sex,” he answered next, and I felt myself flush with heat. “Naturally. Although, sometimes sex is just fucking.”
I nodded, even though I really couldn’t claim to know anything about it.
“And the other?”
“You’ll laugh,” he said, but I shook my head. Still, he answered with a bemused smile, “The most intimate act is to hold bare hands.”
A nervous giggle escaped me, but then I realized he was serious. “Holding hands? Really?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
But I wanted him to explain because I wanted to know…if someday he might hold my hand. My eyes found the floor, too embarrassed to ask.
“So, if you’re touching me now…” I trailed off, gathering up my courage to ask what I really wanted to know. “Does that mean you’ll take me to bed?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
THEA
By afternoon, I was still a virgin, and, despite Julian’s many attempts to show me all the interesting things he could do with his newly liberated fingers, nothing could change that fact.
Pressed next to him in the back seat of his Bentley, I couldn’t keep my thoughts from straying to all the close calls we had the night before. He looked almost as good in his cashmere coat and gray suit as he did naked. Almost.
After the hours we’d spent creatively christening his Parisian flat, I no longer doubted Julian wanted me as much as I wanted him. What I couldn’t quite figure out was why the hell he kept resisting? Every time we got close to crossing the line, he managed to pull us back to safety.
“Are you certain you don’t want me to come with you, pet?” Julian asked for the fiftieth time since we’d finally gotten up for the morning.
I shook my head and pasted a smile on my face. “I’ll be fine–as long as Jacqueline doesn’t bite.”
“She’ll have me to answer to if she does,” he promised darkly. He leaned over and stole a kiss. “If you change your mind…”
“I will call,” I said. “Make sure you actually have your ringer turned on, old man.”
“Don’t worry. I think I have the hang of this damned thing.” He held up his cell phone. His gloves were back on, but I couldn’t resist reaching over to brush a sliver of his bare wrist. “Careful, or I’ll take you right back to bed.”
“Promise?” I licked my lower lip, earning a frustrated groan from him. “Then what would I wear to all the events? I’d have to go naked.”
“Stop putting ideas in my head, pet,” he said grumpily. His hand flashed inside his coat’s breast pocket, and then he held up a thin, black card. “Speaking of, you’ll need this.”
I hesitated, staring at the credit card. It was weird to take his money. We’d only known each other a week, but he seemed utterly nonchalant about giving me access to his bank account. “I have a little saved up. I can use that–”
“I promise you that a little savings and shopping with Jacqueline are incompatible concepts,” he said dryly. “You’ll need this, trust me.”
“But…” The look he gave me ended the argument. I sighed and took it from him. “What’s my budget?”
