You’re scribbling away, lost in the mess of notes and textbooks, when cold fingertips brush your neck. Before you can react, lips press softly against your skin, followed by another kiss—this one slower, more deliberate.

A chill runs down your spine as his fangs barely graze the curve of your neck, not enough to bite, just enough to make your pulse stutter. “Miss me?” murmurs against your skin, his voice smooth and dark, as if your concentration on anything but him is some kind of insult.

You roll your eyes but feel heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m trying to study,” you mutter, though your voice is far weaker than you’d like.

He hums, clearly amused, and his kisses trail lower, lingering like whispered promises. “You’ve been working too hard,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you back against his chest. “It’s almost like you want me to get jealous of these books.”

Your heart pounds in your ears, the homework now nothing but background noise. His lips ghost along your pulse, savoring the way it flutters beneath them.

“Come on,” he breathes, “just a little distraction… won’t kill you.”