"Whoa. Easy there." He stopped her before she came in contact with his erection. He wasn't sure she was ready for that. Hell, he wasn't sure he was ready for that. "If we're going to... We need to take this slow. I want it to be good for you."
She smiled, and he caught sight of the tips of her fangs. His erection throbbed.
Now who'd have thought that'd be a turn-on?
"I dreamt of doing this last night," she murmured.
Butch cleared his throat. "Did you?"
"I imagined that you came to my bed. You bent over me."
Oh, God, he could just picture that. Except in his fantasy they were both naked.
"You were naked," she whispered, leaning into him. "And so was I. Your mouth was hard on mine. You tasted tangy, like Scotch. I liked it." Her lips hovered mere inches from his. "I liked you."
Holy heaven. He was actually about to come. And they hadn't even kissed yet.
She moved to close the distance, but he held her off at the last moment. She was too much for him. Too lovely. Too sexy. Way, way too innocent.
God, he'd let down so many people over the course of his life. He didn't want to add her to the list.
And she deserved a prince for her first. Not some washed-up ex-cop, wearing someone else's gigolo armor. He had no idea how vampires ran their private lives. But he was damn sure she could do a hell of a lot better than him.
"Marissa?"
"Hmmm?" Her eyes didn't stray from his lips. In spite of her inexperience, she looked like she was ready to devour him.
And he wanted to be eaten.
"Do you not desire to?" she whispered, pulling back. Looking worried. "Butch?"
"Oh, no, baby. Not that. Never that."
He shifted his hands from her shoulders up to her neck, holding her head steady. Then he tilted his to one side and put his lips right on her mouth.
She gasped, drawing his breath into her lungs, taking something of him inside of her. He rumbled in satisfaction, but kept control, stroking her mouth gently, caressing her softly. When she swayed toward him, he traced the outside of her lips with his tongue.
She was going to taste so sweet, he thought, preparing to go deeper while still keeping a chain on himself.
But Marissa jumped the gun. She captured his tongue with her mouth and sucked on it.
Butch groaned, his hips jerking up from the chair.
She broke off the kiss. "You didn't like that? I liked it when you did that to my finger last night."
He yanked at his collar. Where the hell was all the air in this part of North America?
"Butch?"
"I liked it," he said in a guttural croak. "Trust me. I really liked it."
"Then I would do it again."
She lunged forward and took his mouth in a blazing kiss, pressing him back into the wicker, hitting him like a ton of bricks. He was in such shock, all he could do was grip the chair's arms. Her onslaught was powerful. Erotic. Hotter than Hades. She practically crawled onto his chest as she explored his mouth, and he braced his body, throwing his weight into his palms.
Suddenly, there was a loud snapping sound.
And then he rolled onto the floor with her.
"What the f - " Butch lifted his left hand. And up came the wicker arm he'd taken hold of.
He'd ripped the side off the chair.
"You okay?" he said breathlessly, tossing the thing away.
"Oh, yes." She smiled up at him. Her dress was caught in his legs. And her body was tight against him. Almost where he needed it to be.
As he looked at her, he was ready for it all, ready to get under that dress, part her thighs with his hips, and bury himself in her heat until they were both totally lost.
Except in his current state, he was liable to take her hard, not make love to her properly. And he was crazed enough to do it here, on the porch, in the open.
So it was way time for a break.
"Let's get you off the floor," he said roughly.
Marissa moved faster than he did, practically springing to her feet. When she held her hand out to help him up, he took it to humor her. Only to find himself plucked from the floor as if he weighed no more than a newspaper.
He smiled as he brushed off his jacket. "You're stronger than you look."