Desire.
Really? We've just been through hell, almost lost each other, and now we want to be all sexy? Really?
I push the door open slowly, hoping he's not going to tackle me or something equally crazy and also kind of hoping he will.
There he is, waiting for me. My own version of the perfect man. The thing is that Peter isn't perfect. He's far from it, but I love him anyway. I love him from the tips of his wings, to his mismatched eyes to his hair that's always in his face. I even love his dirty feet. I love him even though I thought he was going to kill me last night.
He looks at me as if he doesn't know what to say. The steam from the shower pours out of the bathroom, and my hair drips down my back. Neither of us can move.
“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on. In my human life or in this one.” Peter finally steps forward, putting one hand on my face. He leans in, kissing my shoulder. “I adore the way you smell.” I should tell him to stop, that we have more important things to worry about, but I can't seem to find the air to even breathe, let alone speak.
His nose brushes back and forth, as if he's savoring me. I stay still, shaking just a little because I want to kiss him so badly. Yeah, he adores me now that I'm clean. He always smells good. I don't know how that is, must be a noctalis thing. I swallow as his tongue licks moisture from my skin. It doesn’t escape my notice that it would be really easy for the towel just to slip off. My hands are inches away from the button on his jeans. I could just...
“Ava. You are making this difficult for me. You should put some clothes on,” Peter says, a tiny growl in his voice. Oh, hell.
He pushes away from me, and it's almost like being slapped. I know he has to, I know he should, but still. I want him so much that it hurts anyway.
“How can you want me so badly? You make it nearly impossible to stop,” he says, putting his hands behind his back and stepping away. I've left a damp patch on the floor, but I don't care.
“Close your eyes while I get dressed if it bothers you.” I don't mean to snap, but I'm getting irritable with this Peter. The Peter who says no. I just want him to say yes, even if it's wrong. Even if this is the worst possible time ever to make out and do other things.
I know it's dangerous, being physical with him. I worry every moment that he's going to crumble to ash in my arms, because he will if he starts loving me, but what if he never does? What if I live my whole life as his Claimed and nothing ever happens? Wouldn't we always wonder?
Maybe the bind is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe Peter can't love me like that while he loves Di. It's a different kind of love he has for her. Maybe he's not capable of the romantic kind. If we knew for sure, then I wouldn't worry so much. It seems insane that he's been with me this long and it hasn't happened. I wish Di had been more specific in her binding promises. I'm not sure if I can control myself much longer from jumping his bones. They're such sexy bones.
“I will take a shower while you get dressed,” he says, walking past me and shutting the bathroom door.
I get a flash of anger from him and hope he doesn't break anything. I wait for a second, just in case. The water turns on and his energy calms. Phew. I don't want to be around angry Peter unless that anger is directed at Di.
I put on my most comfortable jeans and a soft t-shirt. It's warm enough to wear sandals, so I put my flip-flops on.
“You might want to turn your back as well, Ava. I am not dressed,” Peter says behind me. Crap, I forgot all about his clothes, too. They're buried in the bottom of my dresser in the back so Mom doesn't find them if she goes to put laundry away.
“Okay, they're closed,” I say.
He spots my lie right away. “Are they?”
No, they aren't. I sigh and close them. He's too good. I hear him walk across the carpet and lean down to pick out clothes. The towel drops and my breath catches in my throat. Sweet Jesus. I've never seen Peter naked, but not because I don't want to. He just seems oddly modest for someone who's immortal. The rest of them don’t seem to have the same qualms, especially Cal. I shiver when I think of his name.
His boxers slide over his skin with the most delicious sound. I'm only able to hear it because of the increased senses I acquired when he Claimed me. I was usually glad for the increased hearing, but this is sweet torture, and I have to bite my lip and try really hard not to open my eyes.
“Are you all modest? I really don't feel like you are, seeing as how little value you put on clothes. Well, all of you except Cal.” The bastard.
“I am not modest with anyone but you, Ava,” he says as he pulls his pants on. “It is only self-preservation. You make me want to do so many things that I do not think you are ready for. That I do not think I am ready for.”
“You mean sex?” There, I said it. We need to get that out in the open. “Is it because of the bind?”
“Partially,” he says, putting his shirt over his head. “I do not think it is a good idea to be involved... that way when there are so many complications.”
“But there will always be complications. This whole relationship is a complication.” My eyes are still closed, but I know he's dressed so I open them. Even without the wings, he's a magnificent specimen.
“I know. I just don't think now is the right time.”
“You don't think it's ever the right time for anything,” I say, trying not to pout. I'm whining, but I can't seem to help myself. If he wasn't so damn good-looking things would be so much easier.
“I know,” he says, walking over and kissing my forehead. “That's why I'm the one who has to say no.”
I sigh heavily and cross my eyes at him. I hope he's going to smile and kiss my lips, but he doesn't.
“Your mother is about to come up. I will be on the roof,” he says, and without further ado, is out the window. Seconds later my mother pokes her head in the door. She's sans wig today, just a scarf on her head. She must be gardening, seeing as how her knees are covered in dirt.
“Hey, ma fleur, you're sleeping late again. You feel okay?”
“Yeah, I'm good,” I say, keeping my head turned away from her so she can't see the bite on my neck. Peter was good enough to do it low, almost where my neck meets my shoulder. Still, I'm going to have to find a way to hide it. Or grow a pair and tell her, but that's going to require a long explanation I'm not sure I'm ready to give.
“You want some pancakes?”
“Thanks, but Tex and I are going out. Is that okay?” I feel horrible for turning down her pancakes, but I have to talk to Tex. She's the only one who will give the play-by-play of last night that I need. I also need to talk to Viktor.