The tender, encompassing nature of the embrace startled him even as it soothed the ragged edges of his volatile mood. He lifted her feet from the floor, tilting his head to get a deeper seal. His tongue stroked into her mouth, finding the taste of cinnamon and her own natural sweetness. He groaned, ravenous for her, but unwilling to devour. He’d thought he needed hard and fast. She’d thought she needed that, too. They’d both been wrong.

She caught his lower lip between her teeth and tugged, her lips soft and wet, her tongue a velvet lash. He wanted those lips and tongue all over his body. Her hands, too. They were strong and sure, confident. Her moan vibrated against him, luring his fangs to descend.

Not ready for that, Raze set her down reluctantly, his gaze locked with hers. She was flushed and beautiful, her eyes clear and open, yet tinged with sadness. As he watched, tears welled and slipped off her bottom lashes.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered, releasing him to swipe at her cheeks. “I asked you not to be crazy and then I get weepy over a kiss. I swear I’m not mental.”

“It’s okay.”

“You like picking up teary, emotional women?”

“You picked me up,” he corrected with a smile. “And there’s usually only one reason a woman like you picks up a guy like me. I’m not sorry to find out differently.”

“You thought I objectified you.” She ran a sheepish hand through her black-as-midnight hair. “I can’t say you’re entirely wrong about that.”

“I thought that’s what I wanted.” Impersonal, with expectations that were easy to meet. But it turned out she was right-what he’d needed was her. Giving her the oblivion she wanted was going to keep him busy in ways a quick and dirty fuck would never have done. There was a connection between them, and he realized he needed that far more than he needed an orgasm.