me.” His voice roughened. He cupped the nape of her neck, slipped his fingers into her hair and tilted her face to his. “I heat your blood, agapimeni. As you heat mine.”
He bent his head and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, the soft whisper of his lips over hers, but it made him groan.
“Maria,” he said softly, and he felt her tremble. “Maria,” he said again, and her arms rose, wound around his neck; she lifted herself to him, sighed his name and when he kissed her again he went deep. Deeper, letting the taste of her fill his senses, the feel of her feed his soul…
And he knew, without question, that he could not, would not hold her to the devil’s bargain they’d made.
Gently, he cupped her face and drew back. Her eyes opened slowly; she looked up at him, her pupils dark and wide and blurred with desire or perhaps with tears. It killed him that he couldn’t tell the difference.
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