Page 57 of Even Vampires Bleed (Even Ever After #2)

Cassiopé

I ’m a fool.

I’m also burning.

And I can only blame myself for my idiocy and maybe also for my neediness.

I can hear that Léandre is still asleep.

Yes, “still” asleep, because I was supposed to stay awake and leave, and I waited. I waited, and all I could hear was Léandre’s heart beating wildly. He wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t sleeping at all. And I tried to stay awake as long as I could, but sleep won.

The past nights filled with wild dreams that made me exhausted, won.

And I fell asleep before him.

It would be okay if it stopped there.

I wouldn’t be happy my plan failed, but I could get over it.

But it’s worse. I’m worse.

Because the long pillow between us? It all but disappeared.

And me? I’m plastered against Léandre, one leg between his, an arm around his torso, holding onto his side, and half of my upper body is sprawled on top of him.

I try to wriggle out of my position, but Léandre’s arm tightens around my hip.

Because I might not be the only one clutching the other like some plushie that would help sleeping better.

Léandre’s hand is burning against my skin and…

Wait.

Against my skin?

I went to sleep in my sleeping shorts and a large shirt. Léandre’s hand shouldn’t be against my skin, especially not the skin of my hip.

And now it feels like I’m trapped against him.

I wriggle again and try to slip under his hand.

The goal is to get closer to him, to be able to get out of his embrace.

A shame .

Some part of me would very much like to stay in his arms for hours, but he probably doesn’t know what he is doing. Things done in our sleep cannot always be explained.

I definitely can explain how I ended up sprawled on Léandre, though. I miss him. I miss touching him. I miss kissing him.

So, it’s not surprising that in my sleep I would clutch him like I’m a barnacle.

I have no idea why he would tuck me to him, though.

I manage to move a bit on the side, and Léandre moans as his arm follows my movement.

Shoot! I stuck myself closer to him.

Wait.

Why did he moan?

That’s when I feel it—his hard cock pressing against the inside of my thigh.

In my haste to get out of his embrace, I didn’t think about what could be on the way.

And that was a terrible mistake, because it’s now all I can feel.

Well, this and the grip of his fingers around my hip.

It feels as if he is daring me to get away now .

I take a silent breath and listen to his heart.

It’s loud but calm.

He’s still sleeping, and yet I feel like he doesn’t want to let go of whoever he is dreaming about.

There’s a pinch in my heart at the thought that he is dreaming about someone else. If I was the one he dreamed about, surely he would have tried something with me by now.

The Léandre I used to know had no trouble showing whoever he wanted—me—that he wanted them.

It’s making me sad even if I know I shouldn’t feel that way. He isn’t the same man I knew. I should know that.

That doesn’t prevent my heart from breaking a little.

But what am I supposed to do now?

I’m stuck against Léandre, and I’m torn between relaxing in his embrace and bolting as far as I can.

My stupid heart likes the situation way too much, and I can’t let that happen.

But I can’t help but wonder what would it feel to just bask in Léandre’s warmth.

If I let my hand wander on his chest. If I slipped my hand under my thigh and stroked his hard on.

If I decided to fully straddle him and worked myself on his hard cock until I came.

I start rocking against Léandre.

No, no, no.

I can’t do that to him. He’s not even awake.

And I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want that if he was awake.

What the hell am I doing?

I’m ashamed of myself.

I know I should blame it on my hormones that have been going wild lately, but it wouldn’t be right, either.

It isn’t just that, and I know better.

I might still want Léandre.

I might like this new version of him, too.

But it doesn’t give me the right to rub myself against him while he isn’t conscious.

I brace myself—and my hand against his torso—and use my bat speed to slip out.

It’s not discreet, and I have no doubt Léandre feels it, but I run away to the kitchen before taking the time to double check if he woke up.

By the time I’m in front of the cooler, my heart is beating wildly.

What am I going to do with myself?