He was touching me. Not touching me as in we're in the middle of a workout and he's touching me because he's kicking my ass but touching me as in we're in the middle of a full on make out session and his hands are paying very close attention to my body. I hadn't envisioned this when I had manoeuvred my way like Spiderman along the school's roof and carefully shimmied my way down the convenient drainpipe that was located right beside his window. He was of course alerted to something lurking in the shadows and by the thunderous look on his face when I had tapped gently at his open window, he would have preferred to have been confronted by a Strigoi vampire than by me.

"Well aren't you going to invite me in?" My tone was irritated when it should have been seducing.

"No," He took a step back away from the window allowing me room to make my big entrance. I shuffled closer and jumped down onto the floor quite gracefully considering the outfit I was wearing. My black, purple and grey patterned five inch heels made a slight thud as they hit the carpet, my skin tight black dress showing off every dangerous curve that my body had to offer hiked up my body ever so slightly. "Knocking at the door not challenging enough for you anymore?" He asked in a sarcastic tone as he turned his back to me.

"I was out for a walk…" I rebuffed his apparent indifference to me. "Aren't you going to offer me something to drink?" I asked my eyes taking in everything inside of his room. The only other time I had seen the inside of this room was when I had been under the spell of a pendant which had forced me to him, or rather it had played on my desires for him and pulled me to him.

He finally turned and faced me but it wasn't to take in my criminally dangerous outfit but to stare at me with a hard face. "I think you've already had enough don't you?"

"I had one little drink," Which it was – one little drink, if that, a few sips of champagne. "You really piss me off you know that," I frowned placing my hands on my hips, which combined with my annoyed face probably made me look like an irritated schoolgirl hardly the image I wanted to project. "I'm seventeen years old, my friends are out there," I pointed towards the window, "getting wasted on vodka shots and probably getting all primal with one another and you're giving me a hard time?" I paused, giving myself to catch my breath so I could continue my completely unjust rant. "I had a few sips of champagne…I didn't kiss or do anything with anyone, I didn't get into any fights…which is a miracle in itself…and all I really wanted to do was spend some time with you – to be with you." I admitted sheepishly.

And just like my rant back in the gymnasium a few weeks back when I had accused him of not caring, when he lost some of his self control, when he had kissed me so passionately, so fiercely that it made my lips feel like they were burning – just like then, he moved across the room shortening the distance between us and cupped my face with his hands. Brushing my dark hair aside with his hands, he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, soft but firm.

And that was only the beginning.