“Oh, don’t be sorry. You’ll be looking at me like that very soon.” Her whole body heated as he continued. “Unfortunately, sunrise is near and I need a shower.”
“I’m sorry I took so long.”
Vincent walked over and cupped her face in his hand. “Don’t be sorry. I like you sweet and clean.” He kissed her lips softly, just a quick brush of his mouth. “Eat your dinner, Lana.”
She waited until she heard the water go on, then sat down and tried not to groan with pleasure as she ate her first real meal in days. One thing about hanging with vamps, they tended to forget that humans needed food. The meals she’d managed to find over the last few days had all been grabbed on the run, and even she got tired of candy bars and chips.
Lana had finished eating and was pushing the cart over to the hallway door to put it outside, when she heard the bathroom door open.
“Don’t open that door,” Vincent said from behind her.
She turned to find him standing there completely naked, of course. Vincent had only two settings, naked or fully clothed. He was drying himself with a big towel, but didn’t even pretend to be trying to cover himself. She told herself to focus on his face, but it was difficult. Vincent clothed was gorgeous. Vincent naked was the kind of beauty you usually saw only in museums.
He caught her admiring look and gave her a wicked grin, teeth flashing white against his dark skin and even darker beard.
Lana sighed. “Should I call someone to retrieve the cart?” she asked him, trying to ease the sexual tension in the room. Or maybe she was the only who felt it, because he seemed relaxed enough.
“I’ll take it out,” he said and started across the room toward her.
“You don’t have any clothes on,” she said primly. “I’ll take it.”
“There’s no one out there to see,” he commented and grabbed hold of the cart.
“Then there’s no reason that I can’t do it.”
Vincent rolled his eyes, then grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, standing there in all his naked glory holding the door for her. “Are you going to be this stubborn when we fuck?”
Lana’s face heated as she pushed the cart past him. But she rallied, giving as good as she got. “Who says we’re going to fuck?”
She took more time than she needed to situate the cart against the hallway wall, stalling for time. Vincent hung the No Molestar sign on the doorknob, waited until she was back inside, then closed and locked the door and crowded her against the wall with his big body. His big, naked body.
“Your body tells me we’re going to fuck,” he murmured, his fingers making quick work of the knot on her robe. He pushed the plush fabric away, his hand gliding over the bare skin of her belly to rest on her hip. “And you know it, too. I see it on your face every time you look at me.” He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. Not a teasing touch of his mouth, not a fast, hard smack, but a lingering, luscious kiss that had her rising up on her toes to meet him, her lips opening in welcome, her tongue caressing his, warm and sensuous, tasting of heat and spice and maleness. His hand dropped to her butt and pulled her against him, letting her feel the length of his arousal.
She arched against him and he groaned. “Damn it.”
Lana pulled back and stared up at him, her brain so fogged with desire that it was a moment before she understood the problem. Sunrise.
“Oh, God, Vincent, I’m sor—”
“Stop apologizing, damn it.” His eyes closed suddenly and he seemed to slump where he stood. When he opened his eyes, it was slowly, as if the lids were too heavy. “I have to get to bed, querida. There’s no time.”
Lana didn’t hesitate. Putting her shoulder under his arm, she walked with him to the big bed, tossing the decorative pillows to the floor and pulling back the covers just in time for Vincent to fall onto the mattress.
“Tonight, Lana,” he whispered. Then he rolled onto his belly and he was out. Lana stroked her fingers over his back, feeling the firm bands of muscle beneath smooth golden skin, tracing along the length of his spine all the way down to his very fine ass. She was tempted to touch that, too. To squeeze the firm round muscles. But she didn’t. That was a little too pervy for her.
She sighed and pulled the sheet and blanket up to his waist. A jaw-cracking yawn reminded her that she’d been up all night, too. Hurrying back to the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and more or less dried her hair. It would take too long to dry it all the way, and she was too tired. Doffing the robe, she shuffled into the big closet. A tired smile crossed her face at the sight of the two dusty duffels sitting in the middle of the elegant dressing room. She dug through hers and found another tank top and the blue, satin shorts. She eyed the skimpy outfit doubtfully, then shook her head. It was pointless to pretend any longer. She’d been sleeping in the same bed with Vincent for days. If they’d arrived at the hotel even an hour earlier, he’d probably be buried inside her by now. She yanked the tank top over her head and stepped into the short shorts, thinking she probably should have saved time and gone to bed in the buff. But she wasn’t quite that certain of him yet. Maybe when he woke at sunset, he’d have changed his mind. Or maybe something would come up. Something other than the impressive erection she’d felt against her belly earlier.
A shiver of desire rippled over her skin as she turned off the bathroom light and made her way to the bed. It was what they called a California King, which meant she could easily have crawled in and never touched Vincent at all. But instead, she found herself moving all the way over to his side, pulling the covers over both of them and curling up next to him. And as her eyes closed, she dreamed about what it would be like to make love to a vampire.
VINCENT WOKE TO the warm press of woman against his side and the brush of silken hair over his skin.
He turned and scooped Lana against him, tucking her under his body, letting her feel the weight and heat of him as he nudged his knee between her thighs. Her arms circled his neck even before she was fully awake, her eyelids fluttering, her mouth opening to his with a sweet, hungry moan as she pulled his head down for a kiss.
Vincent swallowed the delectable little noises she was making as she arched against him, her tongue sliding into his mouth, sweeping over his swollen gums, tormenting him as he struggled to keep his fangs in check. He could still remember the dark honey taste of her blood, feel its slow glide down his throat when he’d taken her vein in that hot box of a prison. She’d offered herself to him then to save his life, but tonight, she would know the true carnal pleasure of his bite, would cry deliciously as heat and desire sped throughout her body, as her pussy squeezed around his cock until she screamed his name.
“Vincent,” she whispered and her eyes opened. “I was dreaming about you.”
“And what did you dream, querida?”