Page 12 of Vampires and Violas (A Vampire’s Guide to Gardening #2)

11

On the drive home from Noah’s parents’ house, we talk about his family, the cake, birthdays past, and absolutely nothing. However, we don’t talk about our confession.

But as we pull up to the house, I sense the conversation is coming.

It’s five minutes to eleven. After we left the swing, everyone wanted to play cards inside, so we stayed until the kids were half asleep and even the adults were yawning.

I should be tired, but I’m not, and I don’t think Noah’s dad’s coffee is the only thing to blame.

“Do you want to open your gift now or in the morning?” I ask Noah when we walk inside the empty house.

I expect him to make a joke about our private party, but he merely heads into the kitchen and says, “Now.”

The gift bag sits on the counter, waiting. I’m suddenly second-guessing myself. The present is too expensive, too personal. Noah will read too much into it.

Or worse, he’ll read exactly the right amount.

He picks it up. “May I?”

I brush my hair behind my ear. “Go ahead.”

He pulls the smooth, black leather jacket from the bag. When he realizes what it is, his eyes widen.

I hold my breath as he takes it by the shoulders and lets it unfold.

“I hope it’s okay,” I say awkwardly. “I thought about asking Cassian what size you wear, but then I decided it would be weird if he knew.”

Noah chuckles and then tries it on. “It fits. How does it look?”

Once my tongue unties itself, I might be able to answer him.

I clear my throat. “Good.”

Correctly reading my expression, he smirks, walking forward. “You like it?”

“You look nice.”

He edges closer. “How nice?”

Stupidly flustered, I say, “You look hot, all right?”

Noah makes a low noise in the back of his throat.

Quickly forging ahead, I ask, “Do you like it?”

His hand flirts with the curve of my waist. “I like it very much.”

“Good. Well.” I back up, away from his touch and the risk of bad decisions. “Happy birthday.”

“Piper.”

The way he says my name makes my stomach clench. He’s tempting. So tempting.

Noah steps forward, pressing his palm to the small of my back. Then he leans down, smooth and confident, and kisses me. “Thank you.”

I let out a ragged breath. When I make the mistake of meeting his eyes, I nearly drown in molten honey.

“You’re welcome.” And because I’ve lost my mind, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him again. Briefly.

“I like the color, too,” he murmurs.

Our mouths meet again. This time, he lingers a little longer.

Oh, heck. What are we doing?

“Black looks good on you.”

And yes, I kiss him yet again. But this time when I start to pull back, Noah tightens his grip on me, holding me in place. We stay like this, hearts racing, our lips a mere inch apart.

He’s a monster , a part of my brain screams at me.

But you’re a monster, too , another part argues.

And not to sound dramatic, but the monster that lives inside me desperately wants the monster that lives inside him.

Ignoring my inhibitions, I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and drag his mouth to mine.

Noah growls, his hands on me in an instant. Softly possessive, he clutches my waist, his fingers digging into the thin cotton of my T-shirt.

I gasp as he backs me into the counter, yanking him closer.

The kiss is hot and reckless. I run my fingers through his hair, weaving them through the short strands, enjoying the way his hands move over my back in response.

He breaks away, feathering kisses along my jaw.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against my skin.

I swallow, emotions claiming me. “I missed you, too.”

When our mouths meet again, the spark between us fans into a flame. I gasp when Noah draws my bottom lip between his teeth. In response, he makes a deep, dark noise, and his hands tighten on my back, dragging me against him.

We’ve lost control and are racing toward dangerous territory.

Suddenly, Noah pulls back, hanging his head between us and breathing hard, holding me like he doesn’t want me to move. “Fangs, sorry,” he manages. “Just a minute.”

I hold my breath and then slowly exhale. I’m two bites away from being a final-stage creature of the night, and Noah carries the key to the darkness.

This is such a bad idea.

And I don’t care.

When he looks up, his eyes are cautious. More, they’re worried.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, bringing my hand to his jaw and running my thumb over his cheek.

He sighs, leaning into my touch. “It bothers you, though.”

“Does it seem like it bothers me?” I raise my eyebrows, needing to make a point.

Laughing softly, he backs up to look at me better. “It used to. Vampires are ‘gross,’ remember?”

“I had a limited pool from which to draw my conclusion,” I laugh. “Besides, you can sense my heartbeat. You know it’s not bothering me right now.”

Noah runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Maybe it’s racing because you’re terrified.”

“Not of you.”

“Of something, though?”

“Me, mostly. I’m worried I might make a bad decision.”

His eyes darken. “What kind of decision?”

“The kind where I beg you to bite me.”

His hand tightens against me, but he gives me a lazy grin like he’s unaffected. “This conversation just got a little scandalous.”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” I joke softly, stealing Olivia’s line.

“I’m not going to bite you, Piper,” he swears, suddenly solemn.

“What if I ask you to?”

“I won’t.”

I run my fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “What if I genuinely want it?”

He groans, tipping his head back, away from temptation. “First rule of living life outside the friend-zone paddock—no biting.”

I grin despite myself. “Who said I’m letting you out?”

“Oh, you have to let me out, Piper, otherwise I just might die.”

“We wouldn’t want that.”

“We really wouldn’t.”

My phone buzzes with a text.

“Don’t answer that,” he commands lazily, his tone easy and relaxed. “We’re in the middle of something.”

“It’s almost midnight,” I say. “It might be important.”

Olivia: I’m home, and I’m not a vampire.

Piper: Good to know. I’m also home, and I’m not a second-stage vampire, but only because of my amazing willpower.

She sends a string of excited emojis, making me laugh.

Olivia: Tell me everything.

Piper: Tomorrow. It’s late.

Olivia: You’re wicked.

“Well?” Noah asks as I set the phone aside.

“It was just Olivia. She’s home, and Cassian didn’t bite her.”

“Good.” He wraps his arms around my back. “Now, where were we?”

Not trusting myself, I push away from the counter, ducking out of his arms. “It’s late. We were going to bed.”

Noah grabs my hand as I try to walk away, pulling me back. “You’re not going to cut our party short, are you?”

I grin. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist bringing that up.”

“Be my girlfriend.” He smiles, irresistible. “I love the jacket, but you’re all I really want for my birthday.”

My defenses wobble. I can feel them cracking, their foundations getting shaky.

Noah must sense it, too. Taking pity on me, he adds, “Come on, Pip.”

“Ew, no.” I laugh, pulling away and heading for the stairs. “Try again tomorrow. That was horrible.”

Before I get very far, he says, “Did you remember to take your blood before we left for my parents’ place?”

I stop, sighing dramatically, and march back into the kitchen. “No.”

“What would you do without me?” He leans against the counter, arms crossed, the picture of smug hotness.

“I have no idea.”

And the problem is I mean that. Now that Noah’s back in my life, the idea of losing him again is unbearable.