Forcing myself to relax a little since it was obvious he wasn’t going to pounce on me like I imagined this happening, I said, “It smells delicious. What are you cooking?”

He dropped my hand and ambled over to the stove where he had a chopping board and some purple onions partially diced, the knife set aside. The thought of him doing something simple and domestic when I knocked on the door—rather than him ravishing some nameless woman in his bedroom—had me breathing easier.

“It’s called dabeli. One of my favorites.” He flashed a smile over his shoulder as he continued chopping. “Have a seat.”

He gestured toward the island where two barstools stood. Setting my handbag down on his kitchen table, I took a seat at the island behind him.

“What’s that there?” I asked, pointing to the mixing bowl next to a variety of ingredients.

“This is the dabeli masala and sweet chutney,” he said, setting the mixture aside as his nonstick pan heated. He poured some oil in the pan. “I’m making the stuffing now.”

He continued to add some mashed potatoes and diced onions to the sizzling pan, then the mixture from the bowl. His back was to me, which only drew my eyes to the broad expanse as his hands moved lithely, stirring the ingredients into the pan. I couldn’t help but watch his muscles flex and move under his T-shirt that stretched a little too tight. I’d only seen him in dress shirts before.

He removed the pan from the flame and transferred the mixture to a plate where he pressed it with the flat of a wooden spoon. Finally, he sprinkled it with coriander, coconut, and pomegranate.

“Here. Taste.” He turned with a small spoonful of the stuffing and held it up to my mouth, a smile ticking up on one side.

I let him feed it to me. He watched my mouth as I chewed. The flavor was delicious.

“And do you eat it just like that?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t come here solely for sex and this was perfectly normal.

“No. They go into the pavs.” He pointed to what looked like sweet rolls, cut down the middle. “I’ll make you a few right now if you want.”

This man had an unfairly sensual voice. Deep, dark, and rich. A timbre that normally rolled with sweet promises and soft seduction. But right now? It had morphed into some kind of entity all its own. A superpower he was using to lure me closer. The thing was, he didn’t have to seduce me. I was here of my own accord for just one thing. And even so, his voice, his beauty, his alluring mannerisms and yes, dammit, his irresistible charm, had me completely trapped. Entranced. Wanting.

I licked my lips but couldn’t seem to find any words.

“You are hungry, aren’t you, Isadora?”

Those dark eyes rolled with silver.

I nodded.

“For food?” he asked. “Or something else?”

“Something else. I already told you.”

And I wasn’t going to repeat myself because once was all I could bear.

He set the spoon aside without removing his gaze from mine, then planted his hands on the island countertop on either side of my hips, trapping me within his embrace.

“One night?” he asked, raising his brow in question.

“Not a whole night,” I clarified. “I have to be home by ten o’clock.”

His mouth—wow, he had lovely lips—quirked up on one side, finding this amusing for some reason.

“Then we better get started,” he whispered, leaning in.

He was going to kiss me. Of course, he was going to kiss me. What was I thinking? Then why was my heart trying to leap out of my chest at this sudden revelation?

I don’t know what I expected. Something tender? Or fierce and ravishing? I wasn’t sure. But what I didn’t expect was the unbelievably slow descent of his mouth, barely open as it swept feather-soft against mine.

My eyes slid closed automatically as he continued his gentle sweep, not once landing. When he traced the seam of my lips with the tip of his tongue, I gasped. He glided one hand around my nape, holding me still, firm and possessive. He skated his thumb up my jaw in a tender caress, pausing at the tip of my chin, all the while seducing my mouth with whispery brushes of his lips. It was maddening.

Then he pulled his mouth away, making me groan in frustration. My pulse pounded a million miles a minute. I was sure he could hear it. I dared to open my eyes, knowing I’d find that smirky smile of his as he watched me come undone from a not-quite kiss.

But he wasn’t smiling. No. Quite the opposite. His dark eyes shimmered with the silver of his vampire. And the lust pouring off him licked me like flame. From his open lips, I caught the glint of his tongue piercing as well as two slivers of canine teeth. Though I thought it impossible, my heart battered even harder, knocking on my ribcage with a potent mixture—mostly of excitement, but also with a touch of fear.

“Are you going to bite me?” I whispered, my voice husky.

“Do you want me to?” He trailed his thumb down my throat then back up to my chin, effectively holding me in place.

For a split second, I actually had to think about that question, which was ridiculous. No witch wants to be bitten by a vampire. It’s said that a vampire bite, though pleasurable, renders a person helpless, enthralled. That sort of thing would require an inordinate amount of trust. This was only one-time sex.

“No,” I finally answered. Pretty sure that was the right answer.

His expression didn’t change at all, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes I couldn’t decipher.

“Then no biting,” he agreed.

Lightning-swift, he pressed down on my chin with his thumb, opening my mouth and tilting my head before his mouth crushed against mine. He swept in with his tongue, consuming me, the combination of softness and his steel stud melting me onto the barstool.

I whimpered, only then realizing I had both hands clenched in his T-shirt, his rock-hard chest pressing closer. My feet were propped on the rung of the stool with his body slightly wedged between. He skated a hand up my calf to my knee where he squeezed then spread my leg wider so he could press his pelvis into mine.

All the while his mouth worked me into a frenzy of need, his large hand inching upward to wrap around my lower thigh, just holding me still while he kissed me into oblivion.

I’d been kissed a lot. But whatever Devraj was doing with his tongue, his mouth, the tips of his teeth, nibbling my lower lip one second, coaxing me gently, then diving deep the next, was nothing I’d experienced before. It was like he was exploring his newly conquered territory. No hesitancy since he owned it, but definite mapping of every inch with his mouth. Then that glorious mouth trailed down my jaw to my neck.

I grabbed hold of one of his shoulders—damn, but they were tight with flexed muscle—and combed the other into that thick mass of hair. He groaned against a tender spot at the base of my throat.

“I was going to ask you”—he scraped his sharpened canines along my shoulder, pulling aside the strap of my sleeveless dress—“if you wanted me to fuck you hard or nice and slow.” Another scrape of his sharp teeth then a soothing sweep of his tongue. “But I’ve figured out what you want. What you need.”

“Oh, yeah?” I asked, shocked to hear myself panting in his quiet kitchen. “What do I need?”

He stilled with his mouth above my collarbone, tracing the delicate line with his tongue, the smooth piercing a tantalizing caress.

“Everything,” he whispered against my skin. “And I’m going to give it to you.”

That’s when I realized he’d somehow managed to unfasten the entire line of buttons of my chambray dress without me knowing. Right before he eased it open. He stood back, exposing all of me in nothing but my white cotton panties and bra. He’d inched back enough to take a long leisurely look, his hands skating up and down my sides. His thumbs pressed low on my hips, heated desire pouring off him in waves.

I’d settled my hands on his arms below his biceps, waiting for some pretty words or a few seductive ones. But he said nothing, just stared, drinking me in.

“Devraj,” I interrupted, starting to feel self-conscious.

He startled, his gaze meeting mine, a calculating intensity behind mahogany eyes.

“What?” I pushed, needing to know what he was thinking.

His grip on my waist tightened and he lifted me onto the narrow end of the island. The action shocked me so much I yipped and grabbed hold of his forearms. Now he was standing between my legs and easing my dress off my arms to drape across the countertop behind me.

“I apologize,” he whispered, his hands coasting under my arms and behind my back to unhook my bra. “I was planning…”

“Planning?”

He pulled off my bra, then grazed his palm between my breasts, his hand spanning across my collarbone.

“All the things I plan to do to you within the next four hours.” He pushed me gently, easing me back onto the island lengthwise. “You might want to hold on,” he suggested, placing my hands on the edges of the granite before he hooked his fingers under my panties and swiftly pulled them down my legs.

Oh, boy. I was fully naked, lying on the island with the evening light shining through his window. Thankfully, it was a high window so no one could see in from the road, but the idea of being so exposed, and in broad daylight, was completely terrifying. And exciting.

I’d always had sex in a bedroom and usually in the dark. This was entirely new. Devraj had me splayed out naked in his kitchen, about to be the main course.

He gripped the flaps of my dress hanging over the island and slid my body till my bum was at the edge. He trailed his hands along the backs of my calves to my knees, bending his body and anchoring my thighs against his broad shoulders.

Oh, boy, oh, boy.

I caught the flash of his fanged smile as he held my gaze, lowering closer, and that was just too much for me. I dropped my head and stared at the kitchen ceiling. He glided a finger through my slickness and groaned his approval.

“Isadora,” he whispered with a kind of intense adoration that had me arching my neck, the heat of his breath at my core, the scruff on his jaw scratching my inner thigh.