“Probably not,” he grimaced. “My social skills are questionable.”
“You think?” she snapped, trying to ignore the unexpected emotion that flared through the silver eyes.
That hint of the stark loneliness did something dangerous deep inside her.
“But I do recognize when a woman wants me,” he stubbornly warned, his hand slipping to cup her nape. With a tug he had her pressed against the unyielding width of his chest. “And you, Sally Grace, want me.”
“Why you arrogant . . .” He swooped down to steal a kiss. She jerked her head back to glare at him. “Ass . . .” He kissed her again, his lips unexpectedly tender. “Roke . . .” she pleaded, shivering as a honeyed heat flooded through her. “Stop that.”
“Why?” he rasped, blatantly rubbing his fully erect cock against her lower stomach.
She sucked in a strangled breath, a fierce need jolting through her and for a dazed second she couldn’t remember why.
She’d wanted this aggravating vampire with a fierce craving that was making her nuts.
Why not rip off the tee and lick her way down his body? A few tugs and she could have him stripped of his clothes, then she could take that cock in her mouth and bring the proud vampire to his knees. From there it would be a simple matter to press him backward and climb on top of him and . . .
The vivid fantasies refused to be banished, even as she kept her hands from straying over the chiseled muscles beneath her palms.
“We’re supposed to be finding a way to get rid of each other, not making things worse.”
“How could this make things worse?”
He lowered his head and nuzzled a path of destruction down the curve of her neck. Sally trembled, raw heat flaring through her at the erotic feel of his fangs scraping against her tender flesh.
“I—”
“Yes, my love?”
She struggled to hold on to the unraveling thread of her protest.
“I don’t have sex with men who hate me.”
He jerked his head back, as if genuinely surprised by her words.
“You think I hate you?”
“Don’t you?” she accused.
“No.”
“You blame me for the spell that forced you to become my mate.”
His lips twisted, his brooding gaze sweeping over her tense body.
“I feel a lot of things, but hate isn’t one of them.”
“If the spell was broken—”
Stark hunger flared through his eyes. Oh . . . goddess.
“I’d still want you,” he growled, lowering his head, to allow his fangs to scrape down the curve of her neck. “Like this.”
“Roke,” she breathed.
A tiny voice warned that she should be terrified by the threat of those enormous weapons so close to her veins, but her body instinctively arched to rub against the hard thrust of his erection.
Roke groaned, his hands slipping beneath her sweatshirt to tug it up and over her head.