The Bite Before Christmas Page 8

  She pulled a stack of books from the nightstand and set them beside her as she hopped up on the raised mattress of the wide four-poster. When she glanced in his direction, he took it as an invitation to join her.

  “They touch on some of the things you told me yesterday, and make suggestions for how humans and vampires can learn to ‘live together in harmony’—”

  She rolled her eyes at the last, which he took to mean she was quoting a phrase directly from one of the colorful tomes. He plucked a title from the top of the pile and nearly swallowed his tongue at the bright red title that jumped out at him, dripping one-dimensional blood drops: There Goes the Neighborhood: How to Deal with the Undead Next Door.

  Jesus, no wonder people were so afraid of his kind, if this was the kind of garbage they were using as a guide to get along with vampires.

  “What is it you were looking for in these?” he asked in a low voice, skimming the rest of the titles and the information printed on a few of the back cover flaps. Some of it sounded logical, but some was downright alarming.

  “Stuff about…you know, the mechanics.”

  Her eyes darted away as she murmured the explanation, and Connor felt a rush of warmth suffuse his chest. In a word, she was adorable. Gorgeous, and sexy enough to rival any of Hollywood’s most beautiful starlets, but also sweet and innocent in a world where there wasn’t much sweetness or innocence left.

  He wanted to grab her up and show her the mechanics of vampire-on-human sex, but knew that would only send her reaching for her garlic and crucifix again. As much as the stake in his pants might wish otherwise, he needed to go slow, put her fears to rest before jumping her like some crazed and horny rogue bloodsucker.

  “Are there any questions I can answer for you?” he asked politely, even though he felt anything but polite.

  Her mouth opened, but only a strangled squeak came out as her eyes widened in embarrassment and twin circles of red filled her cheeks.

  “Or how about this,” he suggested, resisting the urge to tug her close and kiss the uneasiness right out of her. “What if I simply tell you how it works, and you can stop me if you have specific questions.”

  She didn’t look as though she loved that idea, either, but she was apparently curious enough—and he hoped eager enough—to jerk her head in the affirmative.

  Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, he returned the stack of books to the nightstand, then moved the crucifix and string of garlic bulbs to rest beside them. When his skin didn’t begin to smolder and he didn’t shriek in agony, her eyes went wide.

  With a grin, he said, “Those things don’t work quite as well as television would have you believe. Vampires aren’t evil, so we don’t have much to fear from God or religious articles—including holy water, in case you have any of that tucked away somewhere.”

  From her guilty expression, he assumed she did and gave a low chuckle. “If you want to kill one of us, go with a very sharp stake through the heart. Wood, metal, whatever. Of course, that’s something that will kill mortals and immortals alike. But with immortals, you’re going to want to leave the stake in there…. Remove it and we begin to heal, just like from any other wound. And then you’ll want to remove the head and burn it and the body well away from each other.”

  At that, her blush disappeared, taking the rest of the color in her face right along with it. Okay, maybe that was too much information. But she’d wanted to know about vampires enough to start her own library on the subject, so she might as well learn the truth from someone who knew it first-hand.

  And somewhere during his acquaintance with this woman, he’d decided not to lie to her—about anything. Good, bad, or ugly, if she asked a question about his kind, he intended to answer it frankly and with no beating around the bush.

  To lighten the mood, however, he said, “But you’re not planning to kill me, are you?”

  She shook her head almost violently, eyes wide and finally centered on him instead of darting all around the room.

  “Good. I’d hate to think you had despicable plans for me and I just gave you a how-to guide on how to follow through on them.”

  Her mouth turned down in a frown. “That’s not what I was going through the books for.”

  She looked so horrified that he would even think as much, he couldn’t tease her any longer.

  “I’m only kidding,” he told her, reaching out to brush the pad of his thumb across her warm, rosy pink lips. “I know you aren’t interested in murder. You’re interested in sex.”

  His voice grew thick and gravely on the last word, and his body turned hard, envisioning that act with this woman. Preferably several times and in several different positions.

  She swallowed, her own anatomy quickly following suit. He could hear the leap of her pulse, sense the rise of her temperature, and smell the thick, ripening scent of her arousal. Outwardly, her breathing grew shallow, her nipples beaded beneath the cotton of her shirt, and she shifted on the bed, hinting at the ache building between her legs that he hoped matched his own.

  “The most important thing for you to know is that humans and vampires are extremely compatible. We don’t sprout horns or transform into monsters or possess abnormal appendages. And we don’t need to bite to achieve orgasm.”

  “Well, that’s candid enough,” Jillian muttered, staring down at her feet.

  “I want you to understand that when we make love, nothing is going to happen that you don’t want to happen. I won’t hurt you. We like to bite during sex, that’s true. And piercing our lovers’ flesh, sipping their blood, can heighten the sexual experience. But it’s not necessary, and most of us only do that sort of thing if it’s mutually agreed upon, both partners willing.”

  Instead of moving away from him, as he would have expected, she moved closer. Just an inch, a slight shifting of her legs on the mattress, but it brought them into the lightest of contact from hip to thigh.

  “So how does a human know if she likes being bitten?”

  The question, along with her matter-of-fact delivery, hit him square in the solar plexus. Damn, but he loved this woman. She kept him on his toes like no one else he’d ever met, blushing one minute and shocking him with her brazenness the next.

  “I suppose the only way to find out is to give it a try,” he replied honestly.

  “I don’t like being bitten by bugs or my cat,” she told him.

  “I’m not a cat.” Or a bug.

  “No,” she agreed. “Your teeth are bigger.”

  “Other things, too, one would hope,” he felt the need to point out.

  There was that flush again that heated his blood and made him want to claim her in every way possible. With his fangs, as well, but only once she was weeping with need, begging him to give her all that he had, all that he was. Then, and only then, would he sink his teeth into her neck and show her how satisfying such a thing could be—for both of them.

  “Bug bites are itchy. And I assume your cat bites you because he’s angry or afraid. During sex, vampire nips and bites are sensual, erotic. An added form of pleasure.”

  “Like extra-special bonus sex.”

  He arched a brow. “What’s extra-special bonus sex?” He might have been around for hundreds of years, but that was a new one, even to him. And wouldn’t he have known if he’d ever experienced something remarkable enough to be termed extra-special bonus sex?

  Jillian cocked her head and gave him a look that had the blood pumping through his veins like oil through a well-tuned engine. Good thing he’d filled up this morning, or his appetites would have been out of control. He would have been out of control.

  As it was, he was hanging on by a thread. A very thin, very tense, very frayed thread.

  And then that thread broke, snapped clean in two as her blue eyes darkened to navy and her lips parted to whisper, “Anything you want it to be.”

  BITE NINE

  Now that Jillian knew Connor wasn’t going to morph into some kind of demonic monster o
r come at her with some freaky bit of snapping male anatomy, any anxiety she might have felt drifted away, leaving her achy and weak…and flushed with the same keen desire as the night before when he’d been kissing her senseless in the hall.

  She wanted him to kiss her again. Kiss her, and touch her, and…everything.

  She didn’t care anymore if she seduced him or he seduced her. Hell, she hoped they were working at seducing each other.

  Whatever spell he cast over her, it was working. And she could see by his smoky expression, the heat flaring in his eyes, that she had captivated him at least a little, too.

  And all it took was a single suggestive remark to send him over the edge. One minute she was looking at him through lowered lashes, wondering if her attempt at flirting was going to have the right impact. The next, she was flat on her back, pressed down into the soft mattress by his heavy, solid weight.

  The air whooshed from her lungs, and he caught it with his mouth, his lips searing like a brand as they covered hers. Not that she minded; she didn’t need air when she had Connor’s strong body scorching her from head to toe and filling her lungs with something better than oxygen. He was filling her nose with the scent of sandalwood and a hint of pine, and the rest of her with passion and longing.

  His kiss consumed her, picking up where they’d left off the night before. Hours had passed between the two encounters, but it felt like less than a second. And this time, she had no intention of running away.

  To make sure he knew she wouldn’t be calling a halt to anything…and he should think carefully, if he had any notions about stopping before the sun was well up in the sky and threatening to turn him into a crispy critter…she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, holding him tight.

  He growled low in his throat and ground his pelvis into hers, making her muscles clench. She lifted her hips, meeting his downward gyration and smothering a laugh over the fact that such a short time ago, hearing Connor the Vampire growl at her, over anything, would have made her wet herself. Now, it simply made her wet—in a very good way.

  He tasted of mint, like freshly gargled mouthwash, reminding her that she hadn’t had a chance to brush her teeth yet this…evening. Eep. But he didn’t seem to mind, didn’t even seem to notice, if the fervor of his tongue tangling with her own was any indication.

  She sucked gently, reveling in the click of teeth on teeth and the occasional nip of his fangs running along her lips. Again, the idea of kissing someone with fangs, of having those fangs scrape against her mouth hard enough to possibly draw blood would have freaked her out only a short while ago.

  Even through the daylight hours, she’d tossed and turned, fighting Dark Shadows–like images of very bad things happening to her if she let Connor get too close. But now, being afraid was the farthest thing from her mind.

  She ran her hands down the firm plane of his back, over the soft knit of his thick, coffee-brown sweater. Thank goodness he wasn’t wearing another one of his stuffy suits. As appealing as they were—and Connor Drake filled out dress clothes like no one else she’d ever seen—he looked even sexier in casual clothes. And these were going to be much easier to get off of him.

  Hooking her fingers beneath the ribbed waistband of the sweater, she pushed it up, going slowly enough to enjoy every inch of his smooth, warm skin. He moaned into her mouth, then released her lips to skim her cheek, her jaw, the lobe of her ear. His stomach went concave as she ran her nails along the muscles there, and he shifted, moving however she needed to best aid the removal of his sweater.

  Yanking it up over his head and off his arms, she tossed it aside, not much caring where it landed. She fell back against the pillows with Connor hovering above her, braced full length on his long, muscular arms.

  Did vampires work out? she wondered. Did they need to? Because no one, not even a preternatural being with super strength, super hearing, and a super sniffer, could be born with a body like this.

  His skin might be a shade paler than sun-bronzed, but Connor was far from pale. And beneath that golden skin were hard, bulging muscles. Beautifully sculpted biceps, taut forearms…and a chest that would have made Michaelangelo rethink his vision of David as the epitome of male perfection.

  As thick and black as his hair was, there was only a smattering of crisp dark curls on his chest. Just enough to have her licking her lips and imagining the wicked thrill of those rough hairs rubbing against her swollen nipples.

  Wanting that, possibly more than her next breath, she latched on to his shoulders and pulled him down. Unfortunately, she was still wearing her shirt and bra, and though her nipples were beaded behind the silk cups, pressing against the wall of his chest didn’t have quite the effect she’d been hoping for.

  As though reading her mind, Connor grabbed the hem of her top and tugged. “Off. Now,” he growled, wrangling the material up her torso, over her arms and head.

  She shook the wild tangle of her hair away from her face in time to see him going for her bra. The hooks were in the back, and she cursed underwear makers world ’round for their apparent lack of vision when it came to easy access during bouts of sweaty, mindless sex. Maybe they were Shakers and didn’t want anybody getting lucky.

  Connor, however, didn’t waste so much as a nanosecond worrying about her choice of underwear’s design flaws. He leaned forward, licked a slow path from the hollow of her throat to between her breasts, and then bit through the thin stretch of lace holding the bra’s underwires together.

  “Holy razor blades, Batman,” she breathed, and couldn’t decided if she should be shocked or aroused. Maybe a little of both.

  Lifting his attention to her face, he met her gaze with eyes that glowed a bright orangeish-red around the black irises.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his deep voice both gravel rough and breathless at the same time. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Jillian laughed. Or at the very least, a huff of air burst from her lungs.

  “You didn’t,” she assured him quickly, tracing her palms lightly up and down his bare arms. “I thought it was kind of hot.”

  He raised a brow, as though he wasn’t sure whether or not to believe her.

  “So are your eyes. Do they glow like that whenever you’re turned on?”

  “Or angry,” he said after a confused, speechless moment.

  She let one corner of her mouth quirk upward. “Nice,” she told him. “I guess I’ll know any time you’re thinking dirty thoughts, then, won’t I?”

  The opposite corner of his mouth lifted in a mirror image of her own. “Where you’re concerned, I’m always thinking dirty thoughts.”

  Her half-smile turned into a full-blown grin as pleasure coursed through her. “I think dirty thoughts about you, too,” she admitted barely above a whisper, even as her cheeks flared with heat.

  Connor, of course, wasn’t the least bit embarrassed by the topic of conversation. If anything, he looked wolfish, especially with the sharp tips of his fanged incisors showing between curved lips.

  “Really?” he said, a wicked lilt to the single word. “What kind of dirty thoughts?”

  Too many to count, and definitely none she was willing to share. She might be half naked, with a half-naked man lying on top of her, but she didn’t know him that well yet.

  Maybe someday she’d have the courage to share a few of her more X-rated secret fantasies with him, but it wasn’t going to be here or now. Besides, she’d used up her daily quota of bravery just letting him into her room…and into her bed.

  She had to tell him something, though, so she went with the truth.

  “This is one,” she said softly. “You, here with me. Looking at me like that.”

  “How am I looking at you?” he wanted to know in a tone just as low, just as laced with barely restrained longing.

  “Like you want to devour me.”

  A sound somewhere between a growl and a strangled groan rumbled in his chest and throat. “I do want to
devour you. But only in the very best ways.”

  She lifted a hand and ran her fingers through his silky black hair, smiling when a few unruly strands fell forward over his brow, making him look boyish and charming. Ironic, considering those were two words she never would have expected to use to describe a vampire.

  “But no biting unless I ask you to, right?” she said, half teasing, half wanting to be sure.

  “No biting unless you ask,” he promised, running his wide, warm palms along her sides, over her ribs, and up to cup her breasts beneath the parted halves of her torn—bitten?—bra. “Though I intend to make it my mission in life to get you so hot, you not only ask, you beg for it.”

  The very notion of having him pierce her flesh—her delicate throat and ever-important jugular vein, no less—scared her silly. But it also intrigued her, aroused her, made her heart beat double-time in anticipation.

  Only a few short days ago, she’d been afraid of vampires, and look where she was now. Pinned beneath one, chest heaving and blood rushing while she waited for him to ravish her. Wanted him to ravish her.

  Licking her lips, she trailed her fingertips over the thin line of dark hair that led in a pleasure path down the center of his abdomen, feeling her own stomach tighten when he sucked in a sharp breath. Curling her fingers into the waistband of his khakis, she slowly started to work loose the top button.

  “I’ll consider myself warned,” she said, feeling like some brazen, worldly coquette when she’d never thought herself capable of such behavior. It certainly wasn’t an aspect of her personality that she was overly familiar with.

  Now that she was experiencing the power of being a wanton woman, though…of the freedom it brought, and the reaction she could extract from Connor simply by batting her lashes and lowering her voice to a smoky whisper…she kind of liked it.

  Responding to her statement just as she’d hoped he would, his lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing the same sharp incisors he’d used to slice through the material of her bra, and his hands went to the front of her own jeans, tearing them open and yanking the stiff denim down her legs.