A Vampire for Christmas - By Michele Hauf Page 0,42
then pulled off his boots and tossed them to the rug by the door.
“Hey!”
“The carpet is beige and a bitch to clean.”
And he—damn, he smelled delicious. A mix of winter snow, leather and aggressive male. While all her caution alarms sounded, Olivia decided this was an opportunity she couldn’t let pass. If she could do this, she could do anything. And what she really needed in her life right now was a burst of confidence.
“I’m Olivia….” She paused, waiting for his reaction, but sensed if he hadn’t already said something, that he likely wasn’t aware who she really was.
“I’m a common mortal,” she offered, avoiding all the sensational details that half the population knew better than she, “who is not a monster—although, there are times I can be very monstrous—and happens to believe that the world is populated by all sorts. Though I’ve never met one of those, uh…sorts until now. At least, not a real one. Those fangs are real, right?”
He nodded and she kneeled before him and unscrewed the cap from the alcohol bottle. “So what’s your name, and why were werewolves beating you up?”
As she said the W word it got stuck at the back of her throat, and a scream almost slipped by, but her stage training rescued her nerves from becoming all-out fear.
He leaned forward, meeting her gaze. Deep brown eyes flecked with dark spots to match the freckles on his nose held her mesmerized. How often did a man look a girl directly in the eyes? Didn’t seem to happen enough in her life. Wow. How long did it take before a look moved from stranger to friendship to so much more? Only a matter of seconds, she knew that. Wow, again. Holding his gaze, she realized he looked a little…lost.
Fighting the urge to touch his mouth, to feel him—was he different than a mortal man?—Olivia fended off the foolish move.
“Name’s Daniel,” he said, leaning back and stretching an arm across the leather couch. His shirt tugged over tight abs and a rip down the side gaped to expose the rigid structure of his awesome physique. “And the damned dogs don’t like vampires. Not really in the holiday spirit, is it? Goodwill toward others and all that Christmas bullshit. It’s a vamp-werewolf thing, as far as I understand. They normally get along, but you’ll find racists among any breed.”
“Interesting.” Her mother would have loved this moment. She gestured with an alcohol-laden cotton ball that he lean forward so she could dab at the cut she’d seen on his lip when he’d had her slammed against the wall outside. “It’s going to sting.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
Running her tongue along her lower lip, she slipped into a fantasy about the mouth inches from her eyes. Those firm lips would feel warm against hers, and he’d take from her exactly as he wished as he ran his hands over her body and pulled her against all his hard planes. And she’d like to give him whatever he desired.
Oh, Olivia, sounds like the lyrics to some stupid pop song. He’s not going to ravish you, no matter how much your silly heart wants him to. The guy just escaped werewolves. Why are you not freaking?
She looked for the cut. His lips were thick and inviting—would a kiss taste like blood?—but…no cut.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in a smooth baritone that hummed in her chest and made her want to perform a duet with him, one composed not of singing, but of lusty kisses and explorative touches. “Finally realize you’ve invited a monster into your home?”
“No. Well, yes, there is that, but it’s—the wound is gone.”
“I heal fast. Don’t need medical attention, that’s for sure.”
“Then why did you come up?”
“Because I got an invite from a sexy woman. Not a man alive who could resist that. Even though I suspect you’re a little crazy for not freaking over a vampire and two werewolves. Why did you invite me up here? You like to play with fire, Olivia, who is just a common mortal?”
“You think you’re fire?” She strolled her eyes down his face and to the tear in his shirt. The cusp of rock-hard pectorals teased. She could feel his invisible flames licking at her inhibitions. “Maybe I asked you in so I could…”
Should she be so bold? The risks were high. For both of them. But she needed this foray into danger.