Must Love Fangs ml-3

by Jessica Sims

  I noticed the jagged scratch that went up his tanned arm, then noticed a similar one running down one cheek and under his ear. He had circles under his eyes, too. I pushed the coffee toward him. “You take it. You look tired.”

  He gave me the slow, sensual smile that made me think we were sharing a moment. The one that sent shivers up my spine. He bowed his head over the cup as if I’d given him a gift, then he lifted it to his lips and drank.

  I suddenly thought of that moment in the diner when he’d deliberately turned my cup and placed his mouth on the exact spot that I’d drank from. Heat crept through my belly, and I glanced away before he could notice my blush. My face felt hot with . . . embarrassment? Awareness? “There are things such as phones and voice mail,” I reminded him. “And texts.”

  “Now you sound like my last girlfriend,” he teased.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “It was just a joke. Sorry. Next time I’ll call when all hell breaks loose. If you want to kick in our vampire plan, we can start tonight.”

  I perked up at that, more than ready to get things moving. “I’m ready whenever. Say the word.”

  “Good. We’ll go to your place after you get off work.”

  “Uh-uh.”

  He put down the coffee and raised his hands in the air. “Just a wardrobe check. Very innocent.”

  “I don’t believe you have an innocent bone in your body,” I told him.

  He grinned. “You might be right.”

  • • •

  “No Xbox for you tonight?” I asked him as I stepped out of my car in the parking lot of my apartment complex. Josh had followed me here and was exiting his vehicle at the same time I’d left mine. “I thought it was tradition.”

  “It is,” he said, taking the stairs behind me. “But I had other plans tonight.”

  And those other plans obviously included me. I wasn’t sure if I was flattered or concerned. Probably both. I unlocked my front door and placed my keys on the small table next to the door, then flipped on the light. “Come on in.”

  I moved to the side as he entered, watching his reaction. If he was expecting stuffed animals and some knitting, he was in for a disappointment. I had a large flat-screen TV on the back wall, sleek floor lamps, and track lighting. A small white couch and a low table in the living room. My kitchen was always neat, my floors spotless. The only concession to a mess were the puzzle pieces laid out on my dining room table, but even those were neatly piled. I knew my bathroom was clean, the marble gleaming, and my bedroom was tidy, the bed made.

  When one didn’t sleep, one had plenty of time for housekeeping.

  “Nice place,” he said, glancing over at me as I shut the door. “It’s not what I expected. I thought you’d be a slob. You know, so guarded on the outside and a wild woman on the inside. That’s usually how it goes.”

  Was that why he was so interested in me? He was in for a huge disappointment, then. “So, you wanted to check out my wardrobe?” I moved toward the bedroom and went inside.

  He followed close behind me and stepped to the side, surveying my room with a knowing smile. Josh’s gaze flicked over my bookshelf (dusted), my neat queen bed (made) with perfectly arranged throw pillows, and the organized stack of magazines on the bedside. “Bed made, too? Man. You are something else.”

  He sat down on the bed and lay back, lacing his fingers behind his head and lounging amid my throw pillows. That casual, confident smile was on his face, and it unnerved me to see him relaxing. On my bed.

  Like he belonged there.

  “Make yourself at home,” I said.

  He winked at me and adjusted one of the pillows behind his head. “This is a prime spot for viewing.”

  “Viewing? You expect me to model for you?”

  He shrugged. “How else am I supposed to tell you if you look soft or not? We’re going for soft, and sexy and come-hither. With vampires you need to look fragile and helpless, not strong and independent.”

  “Fragile . . . and . . . helpless . . . ” I repeated slowly, a bit dumbfounded.

  Strong and independent? Was that how he saw me?

  “They’re predators. Women are their prey. If you were out hunting for a woman, would you want a scowly, aloof one or a nice, soft, sweet one?”

  And I guessed I was a scowly one. I sighed and headed into my walk-in closet, clicking on the light and glancing at my neatly arranged things. “I’m not much of a clotheshorse.”

  “That’s fine. Show me your sexiest date outfit,” he said from the bed.

  I didn’t have a sexy date outfit. I eyed my clothing and chewed on my lip, thinking. Then I pulled a sweater off a hanger, paired it with a dark skirt, and stepped out of the closet, holding it up to me.

  “Try it on,” he said.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Not while you’re lying on the bed.”

  “I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he told me with a roguish grin that was anything but gentlemanly. He adjusted his baseball cap, tilting the brim back a little before cocking his head to the side. “If you don’t trust me not to look, you can shut the closet door. I won’t get up. Not when I’m so comfy right here.”

  I hesitated a moment longer. Did I really want to change in front of Joshua Russell, of all people?

  But . . . I needed a vampire. And a small, irritating part of me wanted to impress him, to show him I could be attractive, too. So I entered the closet, shut the door, and took off my clothes. Then I pulled on the sweater and skirt and stepped out. “How’s this?”

  He sat up in the bed.

  For a moment, my heart raced. Was he . . . pleased with my appearance?

  “That is just terrible,” he said.

  I scowled.

  Josh slid off the bed and moved to my side, examining me. “Where are your heels?”

  “I don’t have any high heels.”

  He looked surprised. “How can you expect to catch a man if you don’t have fuck-me pumps? You wear those, and he’s automatically imagining them digging into his back. Trust me on this.”

  “You’re something else, you know that?”

  “I may be something else, but I’m something that gets a lot of dates,” he pointed out. “Tomorrow, buy some shoes. Tall heels. Think sexy.” He turned me for a full view of my outfit. “This is all wrong, Marie.”

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?” I asked curiously.

  “Nothing, if you’re looking to get a job as a church secretary. We need sensual, remember? Think sexy and loose and wild.” He studied me for a moment, then reached up and tugged a lock of my curling dark hair, dragging it down to brush against the nape of my neck. “Like you normally wear it.”

  I pulled away, feeling a little self-conscious and flustered. He thought my hair was sexy and wild? “When do I ever wear my hair up?”

  “When you’re working.”

  I thought for a moment. I sometimes twisted my hair and shoved a pencil through it while I was working. He thought that was sexy? Even stranger, he remembered that I did that?

  Josh moved past me and began to rake through the hangers.

  I remained behind him, fingering my hair thoughtfully.

  He eventually pulled out a sweater I hated; the tags still dangled from the sleeve. It was a long, navy blue tunic with a wide belt. It was meant to be worn with leggings and a big necklace. The problem was I had no leggings. He pulled the belt off the sweater and held it out to me. “Here. Put this on.”

  “I’m going to return that—”

  He yanked the tags off and dropped it in my hands. “Put it on.”

  “I can’t wear this,” I told him. “I didn’t realize when I’d bought it that it’s off the shoulder, and I don’t have a strapless bra.”

  Josh’s eyes gleamed intensely, and for a moment he looked just like the cat he was. “So go braless.”

  “I don’t have any leggings to go with it.”

  “You don’t need leggings. Wear it as a dress.”

  I sighed and
took it from him, heading back to the closet to change. I pulled off the other outfit, then hesitated. Braless in front of a big, delicious man suddenly seemed like a big deal, and I remembered how his eyes had gleamed at the thought. My skin prickled in awareness, and I knew that he was standing outside the closet, waiting for me to emerge, my breasts loose and my legs bare.

  Sexy and wild, like you normally wear it. And he’d touched my hair.

  A flush rose over my body and I had to fight it down, force my breathing to calm. I was just worked up because I had a man in my bedroom, nothing more. Josh simply wanted to help me find a vampire to date.

  I stripped out of my bra and tugged the dark sweater over my head, noticing that it seemed to cling to my curves as it slithered over me. The open neckline was asymmetrical and hung over one shoulder, exposing it and an expanse of my neck. Smart. I knew before I even stepped out of the closet that this was a good idea.

  When I stepped out of the closet, his eyes had that catlike gleam again that made me want to shiver. He gave me another long, sweeping look that made my skin prickle. “Much better,” he said, his voice husky.

  My skin prickled in response and I felt my nipples grow hard. I crossed my arms over my chest, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  He didn’t. He was too busy pacing around me, and I got the weird sensation that he was embracing his predator side. Had I . . . brought that out in him?

  Behind me, Josh leaned close, and I stiffened. I thought he was going to sniff me, oddly enough. But he only grabbed a handful of my thick, curly hair. “Up,” he said softly. “It’s gorgeous up. Do you have a clip?”

  “On the nightstand,” I told him, flustered at the compliment to my hair.

  Two seconds later, he had the clip in hand and was pushing it into the knot of hair at the back of my head. I could practically feel his breath on my neck, and I shivered.

  “You have a great neck for vampires,” he said softly and ran a finger down the back of my neck. “Nice and long and white.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I told him, willing my body not to tremble. He was incredibly aware of my appearance, and I was growing all too aware of his presence, which I liked too much. His attention made my stomach flutter. “Do I pass muster?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said after a long moment, and I glanced over my bare shoulder at him. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then looked at my behind. “Are you wearing granny panties?”

  I gasped. “You do not ask a girl about her panties!”

  “Granny panties,” he said, “are toxic to sexiness. Both for you and for him. If you have a thong, wear one. It’ll make you move sensually and make you more aware of what you’re wearing underneath and how it feels. Go for something sexy in the fabric,” he said, and my nipples went tight again at his husky, sensual tone.

  “Sexy fabric?” I repeated, almost hypnotized by the sound of his voice. It was like something one would say to a lover.

  “Mmm,” he said in agreement. “Something that will tease and tickle at your skin. Lace . . . satin . . . something like that. You know why?”

  “No,” I said softly, my breasts aching and tight. “Why?”

  He swatted my ass. “Badonkadonk.”

  Tabarnak. I was going to kill him with my own two hands. I pushed him away. “You are a jackass. Get out of my bedroom.”

  He grinned, all boyish charm again. “Not until you promise to wear that on your next date. Braless. You’ve got mighty pretty breasts.”

  I clutched the sweater neck tight. “Get. Out.”

  “Promise.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I promise. Now get out so I can change back.”

  He did, grinning at me the whole time.

  When I emerged a few minutes later, my hair was down again and I was wearing my ugliest, most worn-out pajamas. And a bra. Sending a very clear message seemed like a good idea.

  Josh said nothing, but his eyebrow went up and that smile curved his mouth again. “Nice pajamas.”

  “Thank you,” I said frostily.

  He said nothing else about it, then leaned over my dining room table and casually turned a puzzle piece, trying to fit it into the half-finished locked-together pieces on the table. “I see you’re into puzzles. This one’s a hard one.”

  “I like them hard.”

  He glanced back at me and gave me a knowing grin.

  I sighed. “Do you make everything innuendo?”

  “Yes,” he said firmly. “It’s more fun that way. So why puzzles?”

  “I do them when I can’t sleep.” I’d started that five-thousand-piece puzzle last night, and it was nearly done.

  “Do you do a lot of them?”

  I thought of my closet full of boxes of completed puzzles. “Now and then. So was there anything else you wanted, or are you done tormenting me?”

  Josh shook his head. “It’s not torment, my beautiful Marie. It’s assistance. You’re looking at this all wrong. Don’t think of it as suffering. Think of me as your sherpa of sexy.”

  Did that make me Mount Everest? Some unattainable peak he felt the need to climb?

  Now I was making everything innuendo. I forced myself to focus. “What now, then, oh sherpa?”

  His face lit up with enthusiasm. “Now we go through the database and I give you the dirt on all the vampires.”

  Oooh, now we were getting to the good stuff! I grabbed my laptop off my desk and went to the couch, setting the laptop on the low table.

  Josh slid onto the couch next to me, his thigh rubbing against mine. On purpose? Either way, I was hyperaware of it, even if he wasn’t. Maybe he was totally casual with his personal space, too, and I wasn’t used to it.

  Or he just thought I was scowly and aloof, and this was all in my head.

  I pulled up the Midnight Liaisons website.

  • • •

  Two hours later, we were down to only a few options. We’d made notecards on each of the available vampires in the database and arranged them on the table to get a better look. Then, one by one, Josh had plucked the cards off the table, whittling down my options.

  This one was cruel to his last girlfriend. This one was a bit of a playboy. This one was newly turned and wouldn’t be interested in humans. This one lost his blood partner a few years ago and probably wouldn’t be looking for a serious relationship.

  As Josh ticked off the reasons why they would be bad choices and handed me the cards, I kept a few of them. The playboy. The widow. Both of those sounded like likely prospects to me.

  “This one is not a good idea,” Josh said, picking another card off the table and handing it to me. “He’s a kinky fuck. Men and women together, and he’ll just watch.”

  I took the card with a frown. “How do you know this?”

  “I got an invitation once.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him.

  “I didn’t go. I’m not into that sort of thing. I am a one-woman-at-a-time sort of guy.” He leaned in, as if confessing a secret. “I like to devote all my attention to one woman. Make her feel sexy. Needed. Touch her body and bring every nerve ending to attention. Make her feel like she’s the only thing in the universe in that moment.”

  My breath caught in my throat.

  His gaze slid to my mouth before he looked away again. “Can’t do that in a group.”

  “Guess not,” I said weakly. The room sure felt awfully warm. Distracted, I placed the card at the bottom of the stack I was holding.

  He watched, then reached over and snatched the two cards I’d earmarked. “What’s this?”

  “Nothing,” I said defensively, reaching for them. “Give those back.”

  He looked at the first card, then at me. “You want to date the fanged Don Juan? Are you serious?”

  “If he’s not discerning about his dates, I have greater odds of getting him to go out with me.”

  “Marie, I thought you were looking for a guy with fangs. This makes it sound like you’re looking for any guy.” He gave me an odd look. �
�Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “No,” I said and reached for the card again.

  He held it over his head, out of my reach.

  As if that’d stop me. I climbed onto his lap and ripped the card from his hand, then shot him a triumphant look.

  Suddenly his arm went around my waist, pinning me against him. My face was just an inch away from his, and his gaze was focused on me, his eyes intense. I became very aware that my breasts were pressed to his chest, and my legs were now straddling his. It was very . . . intimate.

  “If I’d known that was all it took to get you to climb all over me, Marie,” he said in a husky voice, “I’d have done that hours ago.”

  The words were playful, but I remained frozen by that soft, sultry tone in his voice. His gaze held mine pinned, and I noticed how beautiful his eyes were, how long his lashes. I thought of earlier, with him behind me, his hand knotted in my hair, his eyes flashing to cat.

  And I suddenly didn’t want to move.

  “How good are you at kissing?” Josh asked me, his gaze dropping to my mouth.

  “Kissing?” I repeated.

  “Vampires have an oral fixation,” he said, his hand stroking down my back in a move that made my entire body shiver in response. “Do you need to brush up on your kissing?”

  I hadn’t kissed anyone in over ten years. “I . . . I don’t know,” I admitted. “Are you . . . offering?”

  “We can kiss and I’ll tell you how you’re doing, if you like.” That hand continued to stroke my back, drugging me in an almost hypnotic way. His voice was low and soft, as if he was afraid I was going to bolt, and his gaze gleamed golden-green, reflecting like a cat’s. “I can show you a few techniques. You can get comfortable with the thought of kissing someone with fangs in their mouth. See what it’s like to taste them.”

  My gaze dropped to his mouth, imagining his lips on mine. My pulse beat slowly, awareness tingling through me. He wanted to kiss me and was just using this as a pretense. Yet . . . it didn’t seem like a bad idea.

  Perhaps I was crazy.

  Or perhaps I really just wanted to kiss him. Perhaps that hand on my back was driving me insane, that low, soothing voice, smoothing away all my inhibitions.