It’s all Amy Carmichael can do to make her mortgage payments and put food on the table for her three children. She definitely doesn’t want another relationship, not when her last one was such a miserable mistake. So why do her thoughts keep straying to her new neighbor whose voice reminds her of melted butter rolling over hot pancakes?
They’re definitely not suited, but that doesn’t stop them from wanting each other. And when Aiden’s dangerous life spills over into Amy’s, threatening her son, Aiden will do anything to keep the family he didn’t want, but now loves, safe.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Night Song:
Aiden hadn’t lied. He had been walking in the woods. What he didn’t tell her was that he timed his walk to coincide with her nightly ritual of sitting on the deck with her glass of wine. She’d been late tonight and he’d almost given up, but his patience had been rewarded when the sliding door opened and she stepped through.
He’d been more than stunned to see the shimmer of tears on her cheeks and could no more have stayed away than deny his insatiable hunger for blood. He had to know what was wrong, what made her sad.
But she was reluctant to talk and her mortification was apparent, so he let it go for the time being. That thought alone should have been enough to send him running for the hills. She was human and she was a mother on top of it. A bad combination in his book. But this woman was different and that both drew him to her and made him step back.
It was insane to get to know her.
Yet he couldn’t stay away even if he wanted—and at the moment he didn’t want.
She left the deck to get his wine. He followed and stood just outside the sliding glass door, surveying her kitchen. It was everything his home was not. Lydia’s drawings covered the front of the refrigerator held there with big, colorful magnets. An overlarge calendar was taped up, each day marked with different colored pens. Papers had been pushed off to the side of the kitchen table. Cooling loaves of bread littered the small space. Aiden took a deep breath and held it. Lemon bread, if he wasn’t mistaken.
He rarely ate food, and only then to appease the human he was with, but the scents coming from Amy’s kitchen made his stomach grumble. His gaze went to her as she bustled around the cluttered kitchen. Just like the other night, he wanted to step inside and just be with her. But, as a vampire, he wasn’t allowed inside unless invited.
Amy shot him a warm look over her shoulder as she pulled more loaves from the oven. “Come in,” she said with a smile. “Sorry about the mess.”
He stepped inside, savoring the smell of warm lemon bread, entranced at the sight of her rear end bent over the open oven door. His breath caught in his lungs and he stepped even closer. She closed the door and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of wine.
“It’s so hard to keep the kitchen clean,” she said. “Seems every time I straighten it up, it’s a mess again.”
She chuckled and turned around, then gasped when she knocked into him. Wine splashed out of the glass and splattered her hand.
“Oh.” Her face turned red. “Sorry.”
He took the glass in one hand and her fingers in his other. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kept his gaze trained on her wide, amber eyes. Slowly he sucked the sweet liquid from her fingers and palm, running his tongue along her palm. He closed his eyes, biting back a groan at the salty-sweet taste of her skin. He skimmed his fangs across her palm and she inhaled. His gaze flew to hers where a desire mixed with trepidation and a longing that nearly matched his shone back.
Quickly, before he lost control, he let go of her hand. She held it to her body, cradling it close to her breast. Aiden licked his lips, wanting more. Wanting it all. He took a step back and sipped his wine, studying the rise and fall of her breasts, hearing the small little pants that escaped from between her lips. He could smell the heat rising from her body, the woman scent that had him rock hard.
Not tonight. If he were smart, not ever. But sometimes his intelligence took a back seat to other, baser instincts, and he had no doubt this would be one of those times.
She wanted him. He could see it in her eyes and in the way she leaned toward him. But she also didn’t want him. That was in her eyes as well, evidenced by the confusion. He placed his glass on the kitchen table and took a step in her direction. She held her ground but her eyes grew wider and the pulse in her carotid picked up speed. Keeping his mouth shut, he licked his incisors, nearly tasting her warm, sweet blood. Would it taste like she smelled? Vanilla and flowers? God, he wanted to know.
He reached her in another step and stood so close her warm breath heated him through his shirt. With slow movements, he lifted his hand and caressed her neck. There. Right there he could kiss her, feel her pulse, know that her blood flowed through her. His mouth watered. She licked her lips and he groaned, bending his head and taking her mouth with his, licking the line where her upper lip clamped over her lower, asking for entry.
She opened and he dove in, tasting her, testing her. He was a master at kissing while hiding his elongated and very sharp fangs. His hands cupped the sides of her face. Tentatively, slowly, she raised her hands and placed them on his waist. Her fingers stroked little circles, making his skin tingle where she touched him.
“Mama?”
With a gasp, Amy pushed away, staring at him with wide eyes, her lips rosy and soft. She swiped a hand across her mouth and tore her gaze from his. With a muttered curse, Aiden ran a shaky hand through his hair.
“Lydia, what are you doing up?” Amy asked her daughter.
“Why are you kissing the boogey-man?”
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