Tightening her hold on him, she resumed what he ha
d stopped, tracing up and down his sex, stroking. “I am glad you feel this way.”
And wasn’t that true on a lot of levels: His erection was delicious, so hard and blunt at the tip. She wanted to explore him as he had her . . . with her fingers . . . her mouth . . . her tongue. . . .
Manuel’s eyes briefly rolled back into his head as he gritted his teeth. “But . . . your brother’s still right.”
“Is he . . .” She leaned in and licked at his lips. “Are you sure?”
When she drew back, there was a sizzling moment as their eyes met . . . and then, with a growl, he spun her around and pushed her into the wall.
“Be careful,” he growled.
“Why.” She dipped her lips to his neck and slowly, inexorably dragged one fang up over his jugular.
“Oh . . . fuck . . .” With a desperate curse, he locked his hand on hers, holding her palm in place at his hips, obviously trying to refocus. “Listen to me. As good as this is between us . . .” He swallowed hard. “As good . . . Shit, look, your brother knows what’s doing—I can’t take care of you properly and—”
“I can take care of myself.” She pressed her mouth to his, and she knew she had him when his pelvis began to push forward and ease back again: He may have halted her hand, but his body was more than making up the slack on the friction front.
“Fucking hell,” he groaned, “do you want me to come right here?”
“Yes, I do. I want to know what it is like.”
More kissing. And even though he was the one gripping her and pinning her against the wall, she was the aggressor.
Manuel pulled back, but only, it seemed, upon a great struggle within himself. After taking a number of deep breaths, he said, “You asked me whether I would stay if I could? In a heartbeat. You are beautiful and sexy and I don’t know what the hell your mother or anyone else is doing comparing you to anything or anybody. Nothing comes close to you . . . on any level.”
As he spoke, he was lethally serious and abidingly sincere . . . and the acceptance he offered was as generous as it was unique: She had never gotten it from anyone. Even her own brother wanted to deny her her choice of mate.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“It’s not a compliment. That’s just the way it is.” Manuel kissed her mouth softly, and lingered with the contact. “But the Goateed Hater is still right, Payne.”
“Goateed . . . Hater?”
“Sorry. Little nickname I dreamed up for your twin.” He shrugged. “But even still, I really think he does have your best interests at heart, and you do need someone other than me long-term—whether I can stay here or not is just part of the problem.”
“Not in my eyes.”
“Then you need to see more clearly. I’m going to be dead in another four decades. If I’m lucky. Do you really want to watch me age? Die?”
She had to close her eyes and turn her head away at the thought of him passing away. “Fates . . . no.”
In the quiet that followed, the energy between them changed, shifting from everything sexual . . . to a different kind of yearning. And as if he felt as she did, he tucked her in against his body, holding her tightly within his strong arms.
“If there’s one thing that I’ve learned as a doctor,” he said, “it’s that biology prevails. You and I can do all the deciding we want, but the biological differences are nothing that we can change. My life expectancy is a fraction of yours—at most, we’d get a ten-year window before I’m in Cialis land.”
“What’s that?”
“A very, very flat, gelded place,” he said drily.
“Well . . . I would go there with you, Manuel.” She pulled back so she could look into his beautiful brown eyes. “Wherever it is.”
There was a beat of silence. And then he smiled sadly. “I love the way you say my name.”
Sighing, she put her head on his shoulder. “And I love saying it.”
As they stood there, one against the other, she wondered whether it was for the very last time. And that made her think of her brother. She was worried about Vishous and needed to talk with him, but he had chosen to leave her with no way of finding him.