Kim Harrison - Hotter Than Hell

“What do you want?” he whispered against her throat.

“Don’t you have another question?” she asked breathlessly. Men could be so single minded. Why did he feel the need to talk at all?

“No,” he said briskly.

Claire could hardly speak at all when she answered. “I want more.”

Simon sighed. “Finally, an honest answer.”

His hand slipped beneath her skirt. She was shocked at first, but then…not so much. It was a natural if rather quick progression, and she would not pretend to be demure or hesitant when she was neither. Simon’s hand, large and warm, caressed her inner thigh and then moved up with agonizing slowness. The higher that slow hand moved, the more intensely Claire felt the caress. She held her breath and waited for contact. Almost there…almost…bingo.

Simon touched her through silk panties and she shuddered. All the while he kissed her neck. If he was a vampire, if he really did drink blood, he could have every drop of hers as long as he didn’t stop.

He didn’t stop, and Claire felt herself spiraling out of control. Control. Did she have any? Had she ever? Her head tilted back, and as Simon took full advantage of the new position by kissing a portion of her throat he had missed, his hand slipped into her panties to touch bare, damp flesh. He did not hesitate, he did not falter. It was as if he knew her body well, as if he had touched her this way before and knew exactly where and how. His hands were warm and large and foreign…and yet somehow not so foreign. Claire wriggled a little, her panties slipped, and she spread her legs slightly. Simon took advantage of that new position just as he had when she’d offered him a better shot at her throat. His touch changed, it shifted, and then he slipped one finger inside her.

It had been a long time since any man had touched her, and she came hard and fast, convulsing, gasping, holding onto Simon so she wouldn’t fall to the floor. The orgasm itself didn’t take her by surprise—good heavens, she’d been rushing toward orgasm since he’d placed his mouth on her throat—but the intensity did. She came, and she came, and she grasped Simon hard as the waves washed over her.

“Oh, my,” she whispered when she was able.

Simon held her up, thank goodness, but he took his hand away and he no longer gave his attentions to her throat. After a moment he released her and backed away. Claire straightened her clothes and smoothed her hair. She must look a mess, and Simon…Simon, looked as calm and collected as he had before he’d touched her.

A quick glance down proved what the press of his body to hers had told her, that he had not been unaffected. Well, didn’t this change everything? She’d started out determined to prove that he was a vampire, and had ended up here, shaking from an unexpected orgasm and shamelessly wondering when there would be more.

She tried to be logical, for once. If vampires had no heartbeat then there was no blood flow, and without remarkable blood flow what she saw straining his jeans would be impossible.

“I’ve always had a thing for odd girls.” Simon collected her bouquet from the chair where he’d deposited it so indifferently. With greater care, he handed the flowers to her once again. She took them.

“I’m really not…well, maybe I am a little odd.”

Surely vampires didn’t smile that way. This look was definitely not evil. Then again, maybe she was quick to judge Simon not a vampire because he’d just had his very talented hand in her panties.

Claire twitched and then jumped. “My sauce!”

“You left it on the stove?”

“Yes!” Claire ran to the door. “When I…when I heard that noise I had just put it on to simmer.”

“It’s probably fine.” Simon followed her, and while they were in the hallway Mrs. Tillman’s door opened a crack once again. Even though Claire couldn’t see the old woman, she heard a decided scoff from behind that door. Talk about odd.

At the doorway to her apartment, Simon hesitated. Without thinking, Claire gave a wave of her free hand and said, “Come on in.” So much for that test. She’d invited him in, and that was one of the vampire rules that seemed to be unbreakable. A vampire could not enter a home unless it was invited, and she’d invited Simon into her apartment without so much as a second thought. Darn. Too late to do anything about it now.

Simon studied her apartment as she had studied his, as she rushed to the stove and turned down the heat, then fetched a vase from beneath the sink and filled it with water. As in his apartment, there was a low, open bar between the kitchen and the living area. Simon could sit on the couch and watch her, and she could keep a close eye on him, as well. She had a small shaker of garlic salt close at hand, just in case he tried to move too close too fast. Besides, he wouldn’t be so foolish as to eat his next-door neighbor. Everyone would be looking at him for the crime if that happened. Mrs. Tillman had seen them together. No, she was as safe as she could be, given the circumstances.

If he’d intended to do her harm, he’d had his chance.

She had to admit, there was an inexplicable animal attraction about Simon Darrow that really got under her skin. Maybe it was because she hadn’t had sex in such a long time. Maybe it was because she hadn’t had really good sex for years. She didn’t count what had just happened as sex because, well, she’d come alone. That wasn’t the same, and of course, the evening was young.

Simon was extremely attractive, pale skin aside. At the moment he looked more beautiful than ever, but of course her vision had been temporarily affected. In truth he wasn’t horribly pale, just untanned. It was clear he preferred the night to the daytime, moonlight to sunshine. Maybe it was a musician thing, not a vampire thing. The same could be true of the black wardrobe and the odd hours he kept.

He turned his head to look at the stack of books on her end table. “ Bite Me ,” he read aloud, as he perused the titles. “ The Return of Dracula. Night of the Undead. The Vampire Stan. ”

“That one’s kinda funny,” she said, wondering how he would react to the collection of vampire novels. “It’s a spoofy thing.”

“Intriguing reading material.” He looked at her again, and somehow those almost-black eyes darkened. “Do you have an interest in vampires?”

Just as she’d been ready to dismiss her suspicions and simply embrace the man, he asked that question in a voice that was less than casual. Do you have an interest in vampires?

“I suppose I do,” she confessed. “Particularly vampire romance.” She shivered a little. It was the neck thing, she imagined. Her hand rose up and touched her neck, there where Simon had kissed her and brought her to the edge of paradise with his mouth alone.

Simon sighed. Claire tried to ignore his reaction as she put on water to boil and preheated the oven for the garlic bread, but in truth the fact that he asked the question made her wonder…why did he care if she read about vampires or not? Obviously he did care. He was actually annoyed by the books she’d left sitting out, and that put her right back where she’d started.

Still, he hadn’t bitten her when he’d had the chance. Maybe sometimes vampires needed sex, too—lack of blood flow aside.

“You know,” Simon said after an uncomfortable bout of silence, “I’m really not very hungry. I should go.”

“No!” Claire left her not-yet-boiling water behind as Simon stood, unfolding his body with that unexpected grace that seemed only slightly unnatural. There was a mirror in her bathroom, another in the bedroom. If she could just get him to stand in front of one of those mirrors…if she could just be sure …“You need to eat something,” she said softly.