“And he’s okay with that?”
Natalie shrugged. “He always seemed to be.” She inhaled the delicious aroma of brewing coffee that was filling the kitchen. “Can I have a refill?”
“Latte?” he asked, steaming a metal pitcher of milk.
“Please.”
He added the milk to the big cup he’d poured the espresso into, then spooned on some foam, and set it on the countertop in front of her. But he didn’t stop there. Placing one arm on the seat behind her, and bracing the other in front of her, he enclosed her in the scent and strength of his powerful body.
Natalie turned her face up to his and kissed him. She hadn’t meant to do it. It was as if her body knew what it wanted and didn’t consult her brain. Even then, she’d meant to leave it at that—a good-evening peck on the lips. But Christian had plans of his own. Moving closer, he dropped his arm from the bar stool to her back, lifting her halfway out of the seat as he kissed her thoroughly. As if he was a starving man, and she was his favorite food.
Somewhere in her brain, she registered that she was, in fact, his favorite food. But her gut knew it wasn’t like that. This wasn’t a taste test; this was a man who wanted to fuck the woman he was kissing.
She gripped the taut skin of his waist beneath his sweater, and moaned softly. He wanted her; she wanted him. So why had he left her alone with the shower attachment and her fantasies this morning?
Christian broke the kiss with a lick of her lips, lowering her back onto her seat and making sure she was secure before letting go. “Drink your latte,” he said, smiling. “You’re going to need it.”
Natalie blinked back into the real world. Those kisses of his were addictive. She took a sip of her latte and moaned again, earning a half-lidded look from Christian.
“It’s delicious,” she explained. She wanted to add that the barista was delicious, too, but the second half of his sentence abruptly registered. “What do you mean I’m going to need it?”
“Anthony e-mailed last night,” Christian said, sliding the filter into place and starting a fresh espresso. “He’s calling a meeting of all the challengers to discuss the threat from Hubert.”
The kitchen door swung open and Marc walked in, going directly over to Christian who was holding out a frothy latte in a big, pretty cup that was completely at odds with the powerful male now wrapping his big hands around it like it was the golden nectar of the gods.
“Thank you,” Marc whispered fervently.
Natalie couldn’t help it. She started laughing, and only laughed harder when the two vampires both turned to stare at her.
“You guys are hooked on that stuff,” she managed to say finally.
“This is not stuff,” Christian said, taking a sip of his espresso. “It is ritual and culture. An experience that involves all the senses.”
Natalie opened her eyes wide to avoid laughing again. “Okay,” she agreed.
“If you’d rather, I can leave you to your Mr. Coffee swill, and your . . . eggs,” Christian said, somewhat snottily.
“No, no,” she said quickly, putting both hands around her latte, just in case he tried to steal it back. “So what’s this about a meeting with Anthony?”
Christian gave her a knowing look, but went with the topic shift. “We assume Anthony has spies in Mexico, and that he’s had news. Maybe from the mysterious Jake Baudin. But that’s not the curious part. What’s curious is that he’s decided to include me in his briefing.”
“But you’re one of the challengers. He has to include you.”
Christian grunted his opinion of that.
“Or maybe the intel came from Raphael, and Anthony knows Jaclyn will tell you anyway.”
“I’d probably have heard from Raphael’s people directly, if that was the case. I think Anthony probably does have new intel from his own sources, but he doesn’t strike me as someone who shares easily. And I don’t think he’d feel compelled to invite me out of fairness, either. He’s inviting me for reasons of his own, but I’d bet anything it involves getting me out of way.”
“So, why go to the meeting?”
“Because I want to know what he’s doing, and I want whatever intel he has. And because hiding out isn’t my style.”
A phone rang somewhere deep in the house. “The bat phone,” Marc said, and raced out of the kitchen. And when a vampire raced, he really moved. Marc was gone before Natalie fully registered his first step.
“Bat phone?” she asked, turning to Christian.
“A land line. Only a very few have the number.”