The rest of his body was concealed by the rich material, which stretched to highlight his muscles as he moved with his usual stalking grace. He wore sand-colored pants and a white silk shirt, an open button at the neck showing only the cleft at the base of his throat. Vlad’s hair was brushed back in smooth waves and he’d shaved the excess growth on his jaw until it was that enticing, stubbled shadow again. With how he reacted to betrayal, this might be the last time I saw him. I did, a desperate part of me trying to memorize how he looked. “You can do both,” he said, beckoning me to follow as he left the room. I am hungry, but I want to talk more than I want to eat.” Then I must have stunk up the place since he’d rescued me. “You always smell of guilt when you lie to me.” His half smile remained although his gaze narrowed. “No,” I said, steeling myself for what I had to do.
Or the rest of my life, which was what I really wanted to do. I was, but I was also afraid that if I put off admitting my guilt any longer, I’d chicken out for the rest of tonight. “Hungry?” Vlad asked in that faux casual tone when everyone cleared out of the villa half an hour later.
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