Must Love Vampires by Heidi Betts Page A

extra gentle with her . . . and part of him want to flip her over onto her stomach, raise her hips, and drive into her hard and fast from behind.
    There was nothing gentle about that, or about the way he would take her once he got inside of her. But they weren’t there just yet.
    He covered her mouth with his own, kissing her, teasing her for a long, drawn-out moment. Trailing his lips along the line of her jaw, he murmured, “I’m going to be gentle. Then I’m going to be rough—and everything in between.”
    Her body jerked beneath him. Hiding his smile in the curve of her neck, he continued to suckle. Every once in a while, he nipped with his teeth, let the sharp tips of his fangs graze her soft, pale flesh and delighted in the shivers his attentions caused.
    He kissed her throat, the dip at the very base when she swallowed, traced the sharp line of each collar bone with his tongue. Crossing her chest, he began showering attention on her breasts. First one and then the other, first pressing light butterfly kisses all around and then firmer, tighter ones as he neared the areolas and nipples.
    “So what kind of name is Lamoreaux?” he asked against her skin, knowing his voice would vibrate through his lips, causing even greater sensation.
    Chuck’s slightly arched back fell and she blinked slowly, like an owl coming groggily awake.
    “What?” she asked, her tone making it clear she thought he was crazy for wanting to discuss such a thing now .
    “Your name,” he commented, keeping his voice as lazy as his slow licks and kisses. “It’s rather unusual. I’m wondering at its origins.”
    He ran his flattened tongue straight over one puckered nipple and her breath left her lungs in a long hiss.
    “I can’t believe you want to talk about this now,” she panted.
    “Hmmmm.” He rolled the sound up from deep in his throat, but didn’t stop licking.
    “French, I think. Don’t know.”
    “You don’t know?” Plumping her breast with one hand to bring it closer to his mouth, he let her hear his amusement.
    She groaned, wriggling under him, which only lifted her closer to his ministrations. “My sister and I made it up. Real name is Monroe, but we both”—another moan, followed by a small whimper—“wanted to work under a fake name.”
    So their real names were Charlotte and Chloe Monroe. That explained why he hadn’t been able to learn much about her sister when Aidan had first started talking about her. He wondered what he would find now if he did a search under their real names.
    Both of them.
    His initial concern had been only for Chloe—the sister he’d thought he’d brought up to his penthouse this evening. How was he to know she was a twin, and that he’d inadvertently ended up with the best of the pair?
    That was speculation, of course, but considering the other sister was the one sprawled naked beneath him right now . . . the one he was most attracted to, most intrigued by . . . he was almost certain he’d gotten the better end of the deal.
    “Lamoreaux has a nice ring to it. Very romantic. Excellent for both a dancer and a writer like yourself.”
    He was at the underside of her breast now, laving the soft cushion with his tongue while at the same time using his thumb and forefinger to toy with the nipple of the opposite breast.
    Without warning, his ears were pinched and his head was yanked up. Chuck held him by the hair, her own head tipped down so that she could meet his gaze straight on.
    “Why are we talking about this now?” she demanded, giving him a little shake of frustration.
    He liked it, this forceful side of her, but didn’t think he should tell her as much. He also didn’t think he should admit that he suddenly found himself wanting to know everything about her.
    Big or small, important or trivial, he vowed to discover it all. And if that took the next four hundred years of his life . . . well, that was a prospect he thought he might just be more than looking forward