even breathing. He didn’t need to breathe, of course, but old habits died hard, and maintaining human attributes helped with the façade.
But now his chest was stone still, only his throbbing erection beating in time with the pounding of his heart. He was picturing her on her knees, her mouth—wet, hot, watering—on his cock.
What was it about this woman that turned him inside out? He wasn’t exactly a green, unschooled youth. Far the hell from it.
He’d stopped counting birthdays long ago. Though if he were forced to do the math, his age would fall somewhere around the four-hundred mark. That was a lot of years to live. A lot of women he’d bedded.
A few he’d spent a good amount of time with. Decades with wild and wicked female vamps that had gone by in the blink of an eye. A few others—demure human females—he was sure he’d fancied himself temporarily in love, or at least in lust, with.
But they all paled in comparison to this statuesque tabloid reporter who’d discovered his secret and then been courageous and determined enough to go undercover as a showgirl at his very own club to prove it.
He couldn’t explain it. He was rarely at a loss for feminine company these days, even if most of the women who spent the night with him—willingly, of course—rarely remembered the details by morning. But he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this hard, this eager, from nothing more than a little heavy petting and intense visual stimulation.
She was sprawled naked in the center of his bed, like a sacrificial offering. He wanted to stand there forever, just looking at her. Devouring her with his eyes.
He wanted to stroke her from head to toe. Let his fingers do the walking as he memorized the feel of her skin, every dip and curve of her beautiful body.
He wanted to crawl on top of her, kiss her from temple to toes. Kiss her, lick her, taste every inch of her, and then go back to the beginning and start all over again.
Stalking to the bed, he put one knee to the mattress and his hands to Chuck’s waist, lifting her with no effort whatsoever to move her back a few more inches. She gave a small gasp of surprise, but otherwise didn’t protest. Maybe because she knew that whatever he did with her, she would undoubtedly enjoy it. That was something even he’d be willing to bet the house on.
Wrapping his fingers around her narrow ankles, he spread her legs and pushed her knees toward her chest. She watched him carefully, uncertainty whispering across her violet eyes.
Mouth curving in a reassuring smile, he leaned up to kiss her hard and fast. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I’m not that kind of vampire.”
That brought a smile to her face, as well as a short, breathless laugh from her generously proportioned chest. “I’m not afraid of you, it’s just that . . . It’s been a while since I’ve been this naked in front of anyone. Since a man has touched me. Or looked at me that way. Or—”
“Ah, so you’re more nervous about having sex again than about being at the mercy of an unholy fiend of the night.”
She raised a brow at his corny turn of phrase. “Why don’t we just say I’m slightly anxious about being in bed with a vampire, and leave it at that?”
He grinned. When was the last time he’d grinned during foreplay? He’d venture to say not in this century.
But Chuck Lamoreaux—what kind of name was that, anyway? —amused the hell out of him. Her boldness. Her tenacity. Her self-deprecating sense of humor.
“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. I’ll be gentle and make sure you enjoy it, I promise.”
Her hair brushed against the satin duvet as she cocked her head. “I’m not worried about the last, but . . .”
“What?”
“What if I don’t want you to be gentle?”
A fist of lust twisted inside Sebastian’s gut so tight he almost doubled over. Christ, what she did to him.
Her words, an odd mix of coyness and bravery, made part of him want to be
But now his chest was stone still, only his throbbing erection beating in time with the pounding of his heart. He was picturing her on her knees, her mouth—wet, hot, watering—on his cock.
What was it about this woman that turned him inside out? He wasn’t exactly a green, unschooled youth. Far the hell from it.
He’d stopped counting birthdays long ago. Though if he were forced to do the math, his age would fall somewhere around the four-hundred mark. That was a lot of years to live. A lot of women he’d bedded.
A few he’d spent a good amount of time with. Decades with wild and wicked female vamps that had gone by in the blink of an eye. A few others—demure human females—he was sure he’d fancied himself temporarily in love, or at least in lust, with.
But they all paled in comparison to this statuesque tabloid reporter who’d discovered his secret and then been courageous and determined enough to go undercover as a showgirl at his very own club to prove it.
He couldn’t explain it. He was rarely at a loss for feminine company these days, even if most of the women who spent the night with him—willingly, of course—rarely remembered the details by morning. But he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this hard, this eager, from nothing more than a little heavy petting and intense visual stimulation.
She was sprawled naked in the center of his bed, like a sacrificial offering. He wanted to stand there forever, just looking at her. Devouring her with his eyes.
He wanted to stroke her from head to toe. Let his fingers do the walking as he memorized the feel of her skin, every dip and curve of her beautiful body.
He wanted to crawl on top of her, kiss her from temple to toes. Kiss her, lick her, taste every inch of her, and then go back to the beginning and start all over again.
Stalking to the bed, he put one knee to the mattress and his hands to Chuck’s waist, lifting her with no effort whatsoever to move her back a few more inches. She gave a small gasp of surprise, but otherwise didn’t protest. Maybe because she knew that whatever he did with her, she would undoubtedly enjoy it. That was something even he’d be willing to bet the house on.
Wrapping his fingers around her narrow ankles, he spread her legs and pushed her knees toward her chest. She watched him carefully, uncertainty whispering across her violet eyes.
Mouth curving in a reassuring smile, he leaned up to kiss her hard and fast. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I’m not that kind of vampire.”
That brought a smile to her face, as well as a short, breathless laugh from her generously proportioned chest. “I’m not afraid of you, it’s just that . . . It’s been a while since I’ve been this naked in front of anyone. Since a man has touched me. Or looked at me that way. Or—”
“Ah, so you’re more nervous about having sex again than about being at the mercy of an unholy fiend of the night.”
She raised a brow at his corny turn of phrase. “Why don’t we just say I’m slightly anxious about being in bed with a vampire, and leave it at that?”
He grinned. When was the last time he’d grinned during foreplay? He’d venture to say not in this century.
But Chuck Lamoreaux—what kind of name was that, anyway? —amused the hell out of him. Her boldness. Her tenacity. Her self-deprecating sense of humor.
“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. I’ll be gentle and make sure you enjoy it, I promise.”
Her hair brushed against the satin duvet as she cocked her head. “I’m not worried about the last, but . . .”
“What?”
“What if I don’t want you to be gentle?”
A fist of lust twisted inside Sebastian’s gut so tight he almost doubled over. Christ, what she did to him.
Her words, an odd mix of coyness and bravery, made part of him want to be
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