His tongue tangled with hers and he ate at her mouth. She stiffened at first, as if unsure as to the sudden change, but then she relaxed, sucking on his tongue, giving as good as she got.
It was the most passionate kiss of her life.
The most stirring.
The most unnerving.
He felt it as his hands slid down her trembling body, tracing the curve of her spine, kneading her sweet ass for several long moments until she clutched at his shoulders and slumped against him.
Sweeping her into his arms, he headed upstairs, down the hall, into her bedroom. Moonlight pushed through the French doors, filling the room with an ethereal light that bathed her flawless skin as he stretched her out on her cotton candy-pink sheets.
He didn’t bother taking his jeans off or sinking to the bed beside her. As determined as he was, he didn’t trust himself. His gut clenched too tightly, the hunger too fierce. The sharpness of his fangs grazed his tongue and electricity sizzled through him.
Easy.
“Dillon?” Her soft voice drew his attention.
She stared up at him, her lips full and slick from his mouth, her nipples ripe, her breasts flushed, her legs open. Her cleft was wet and swollen and desire knifed through him, along with a pang of hunger so fierce it stalled his heart for several fast, furious seconds.
“I want you,” she murmured, as if she thought he waited just to hear the words.
That was exactly what she thought, he realized as he stared deep into her eyes and saw the rush of uncertainty, the flash of defeat. His chest tightened and something shifted inside of him. Suddenly it wasn’t about his own damned hunger, but hers.
“No.” He leaned over her and slid a finger into her pulsing heat. “I want you.” And then he captured her mouth with his.
Over the next few minutes, he stroked and tasted and drove her to the brink of orgasm. He plunged his tongue deep, mimicking the action with his fingers, in and out, deeper and deeper, until she whimpered and tugged at his jeans.
But he was a man on a mission and so he caught her hands and pushed them up over her head. He placed a long, lingering kiss on her lips before trailing his mouth over her jaw and down the side of her neck. Her pulse beat against his lips and his groin tightened. Heat swept through him and he trembled. He felt the sharp edge of his teeth graze her fragrant flesh. Once. Twice.
She gasped, the sound like a loud pop in his head that yanked him back to reality. He licked the tiny scrape he’d made on her skin and moved on, kissing and nibbling until he reached her breasts. He lapped at her ripe nipple before blowing on the tip and making her moan.
Her fingers threaded through his hair and held him to her as he drew her deep and sucked her long and hard. He heard her pulse beat in his head, throbbing against his mouth, and it took everything he had not to sink his fangs deep and feel the warmth flowing into his mouth at the same time he felt her tight, hot body close around his cock.
His mouth closed over hers again as he trailed a hand down, over her breast, her abdomen, until he reached her slick folds. He touched her again and she gasped. A drop of warmth spurted over his knuckle and trailed across his palm. His gut tightened and he grew harder, hotter, hungrier.
He slid a finger deep, relishing the incredible heat that sucked at him. With each thrust, the pressure built, pushing her higher until her eyes glazed over and her cheeks flushed. Another deep, dizzying thrust and suddenly she was there.
Her nails dug into his shoulders and she arched off the bed. A moan burst from her lips and he caught it, absorbing the sound the way he absorbed the delicious energy that rushed through him, quieting the roaring in his ears.
But there was none of the usual satisfaction that he usually felt at this point.
Just the fierce need for more.
For her.
He stood and kicked off his boots. Shoving his jeans and underwear down, he kicked them aside then joined her on the bed. He pushed her legs even wider, pulling them up at the knees to give himself better access. The head of his penis pushed a delicious inch into her sweet heat and pleasure spiked through him—
“Wait!” Her soft plea pushed past the sudden roaring in his ears and his gaze collided with hers. “A condom,” she gasped. “We need a condom.”
He hadn’t had much need for protection during the past few months. Vampires couldn’t catch anything—not with the mother of all viruses already flowing through their veins. Nor could they give anything. Passing on his vampness involved sharing his blood, not his body. As for making little vamp babies, that was pretty much impossible according to Garret.
But Meg didn’t know any of that, and Dillon had no intention of letting her know he wasn’t really half as sexy as she thought. It was his vamp charisma.
Here today, gone tomorrow.
A pang of regret washed through him, followed by a rush of so? Who cared why she wanted him so badly. The fact was, she did want him.
Badly.
He focused on the thought and reached for his jeans and the ancient condom that had been in his wallet since junior high. Tearing at the foil packet, he rolled the latex on in one swift motion, he pressed her down into the mattress and settled between her legs. The head of his erection slid along her damp flesh and she shuddered. Her soft, wet folds sucked at the very tip of his head and he groaned.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he finally managed to whisper, his voice husky and raw.
Her legs snaked around his waist. The motion lifted her and he slid deep. Usually he paused at this point, relishing the heat, building the anticipation because he drew the most energy when a woman came apart in his arms.
But then he felt the same rush of desperation he’d felt when she’d taken him into her mouth, and he couldn’t control himself.
He started to move, penetrating deeply with each plunge of his cock. His hands played over her body, feeling every curve and indentation. The feel of her roused him as much as the sight of her spread beneath him, her head flung back, her eyes closed, her lips parted, her body lifting to meet the thrust of his hips.
Catching the tip of one nipple between his lips, he sucked her in, drawing on her, feeling her soft flesh graze his fangs as he moved in and out. Her muscles tightened around him and her body went tense as he slid free. Another deep thrust and she exploded. She milked him as the ecstasy gripped her. Heat rippled through him, sating his hunger and feeding his own energy. He forced his mouth from her breast and stared down at her, drinking in the picture that she made lost in the throes of orgasm.
Her face and neck were flushed, her lips parted and trembling, her eyes glittering.
His hunger roared to life and suddenly, he couldn’t plunge fast enough, deep enough. He tried, pushing and withdrawing and…there. Yes, there!
Pleasure splintered his brain and his body convulsed. He felt his gaze brighten and blaze.
“What the—”
Her soft voice pushed past the beating in his skull and lifted the haze of pleasure long enough for him to see the shock on her face as she stared up at him, into him.
He clamped his eyes shut and gave her a plundering, consuming kiss meant to distract her from what she’d just seen.
Or what she’d thought she’d seen.
No way could it have been real.
At least that’s what she told herself. Denial rushed through her, easing her panic until she forgot everything save kissing him back.
Thankfully.
Otherwise, Garret would have his ass.
At least that’s what Dillon told himself as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, his heart pounding, his blood rushing. No way did he want to consider the possibility that he didn’t want her to know because he actually liked her and wanted her to like him. Now and tomorrow. And if she knew the truth, she would surely write off her attraction as a result of his vamp charisma.
And she’d be right.
He ignored a pang of regret and tried to focus on the sweet rush
of victory that spiraled through him.
He’d broken Bobby’s record.
Instead of being the town’s biggest geek, he would now go down in the history books as Skull Creek’s most legendary lover.
Unfortunately, the truth didn’t make him feel half as good as Meg did when she snuggled into his embrace, closed her eyes and fell asleep.
A realization that pushed him to his feet and had him reaching for his pants and boots. A few minutes later, he hit the front door, climbed onto his motorcycle and got the hell out of there.
Because no way was Dillon falling in love with her.
His life—or lack of—was way too complicated as it was. The last thing he needed was to muck it up with a relationship that didn’t stand a chance in hell, heaven or the in-between.
13
MEG LISTENED AS THE rumble of Dillon’s motorcycle faded in the distance. She barely resisted the urge to rush to the French doors and catch one last glimpse of him.
Instead, she slid her hand to the indentation he’d made next to her. The warmth seeped into her fingers and his lingering scent teased her nostrils.
“I want you.”
His admission echoed in her head, but it did little to curb the disappointment creeping through her.
Because she’d given in first.
That’s what she told herself. No way would she even consider the alternative—that she missed Dillon. That she felt more for him than mutual respect or friendship or simple like.
Ditto for all three, but nothing more. She certainly hadn’t fallen for him.
Not even a little.
She’d been tired and upset and horny, and the three had made for a dangerous combination. Of course, she’d gone a little nuts. The guy was hot, sexy, irresistible, and so she’d caved.
But no more. She’d had enough sex to last her another six months and she was no longer terrified that she might lose Babe. A little sleep, and she would have her wits about her.
Tomorrow morning, she would wake up and get back in the game. Back to searching for a way to beef up her sex appeal and make Tilly’s coveted list.
Without Dillon Cash.
She couldn’t continue their lessons even if he wanted to—and she had her doubts considering the fact that he’d left without so much as a see ya. While she hadn’t fallen for him yet, she wasn’t going to take any chances.
It would be too easy.
And too heartbreaking.
Despite his admission, she knew he didn’t feel the same I-have-to-have-you-right-now-or-I’ll-die passion that she felt for him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to hold back for so long. No, he’d teased and taunted the past few days and she had no doubt that, had she not made the first move, tonight would have ended like all the others—sexless and frustrating.
Regret washed through her and she stiffened. She pushed to her feet. A delicious ache spiraled through her along with several vivid, very graphic memories of the past hour. Her hands trembled and her legs shook and heat chased up and down her skin.
Yep, tomorrow she was back on the wagon.
As for tonight…
She headed for the bathroom and an ice-cold shower.
“LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE didn’t get much sleep last night,” Terry remarked when Meg walked into work fifteen minutes late the next morning.
It was the same comment she’d heard from Doris Milligan when she’d stopped at the coffee shop for a double cappuccino with a shot of espresso. And from old Mr. Parker when she’d stopped at the Quick Stop for a copy of the latest In Style.
It was as if the entire world could tell with one glance that she’d had wild and crazy sex last night with Mr. Wild & Crazy himself.
“It wasn’t anything serious,” she blurted, telling Terry the same thing she’d been telling herself since Dillon had walked away last night. “We’re just friends.”
“I wasn’t talking about you. I’m talking about me again.” The woman hefted an armload of dresses to a nearby rack. “I swear I didn’t get so much as a solid ten minutes.” She reached for the protein drink sitting on a nearby table and took a long swig. “And I’m definitely feeling it this morning.”
Meg set her purse on the shelf near a stack of Brighton leather belts and headed for the cluster of boxes to help Terry unpack. “Anyone I know?”
The woman shook her head. “Hank.”
“Don’t tell me you slept with him again?”
“I didn’t sleep with him.” She shook her head. “But he wants me to. He called all night long, first while I was trying to work out on my elliptical trainer. Then while I was on the treadmill. Then during my favorite Move Those Buns DVD. Then while I was scarfing down a double cheese and sausage pizza.”
“You don’t scarf pizza. You don’t scarf anything.”
“I do after eighteen phone calls from Hank.”
“Eighteen?” Meg noted the worried glimmer in Terry’s brown eyes and suddenly her own troubles didn’t seem all that terrible. “Maybe you should call Sheriff Matthews.”
“And tell him what? That I slept with my ex and now he wants a repeat?” She shook her head. “Hank’s just lonely, that’s all. Since we broke up, he hasn’t had a relationship that’s lasted over two months.”
“Because he’s a jerk.”
“True.”
“A jerk who’s harassing you.” Meg reached for a box cutter. “You should call the sheriff.”
“He just wants to talk. He hasn’t threatened or yelled, or done anything.”
Yet.
The silent word hung between them for several long moments before Terry finally shook her head.
“I know Hank. He’ll give it up eventually. He always does.” She summoned a smile. “I swear the man couldn’t stay focused long enough to hold a job or give me a decent orgasm. He’ll move on to something else.” She waved a hand. “In the meantime, I just have to hold tight and keep from encouraging him.”
“And try not to gain thirty pounds in the process.”
“You aren’t kidding.” She pinched at her waist before turning her attention to the boxes. She sliced open one box while Meg tackled another. A few seconds later, she unearthed a black sports jacket and let loose a low whistle. “Since when do we carry anything like this?”
“I’ve had a few requests for men’s clothes, so I thought I’d have a some samples on hand just in case anyone is interested.” Meg shrugged and ignored the sudden ache between her legs. “It’s all in the name of good business.”
“And here I thought it was all in the name of Dillon Cash.”
Meg’s head snapped up. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Meg. The entire town knows that you and Dillon are seeing each other. Margie Culpepper’s daughter Dana saw you two out riding around last night. And Camille Harlingen’s grandmother was out walking her dog and saw you two here at the boutique the night before that.” Terry gave her a knowing look. “Either you guys are seeing each other, or Grandma Harlingen’s doing more with that cooking sherry than making pot roast.”
Meg’s mind rifled back through the past hour. She’d had a ton of knowing looks while she’d been in line for her coffee. And even more at the Quick Stop.
Because they know.
Her hands trembled as she searched for her most nonchalant voice. “What, um, exactly did she see?”
“Enough to have you halfway down the aisle because you’re carrying his baby.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Terry shrugged. “You’re a woman and he’s a man. You were in the same room together and, if Grandma Harlingen’s bifocals are still the right prescription, you were minus your undies.”
“That still doesn’t mean we had sex.” Not here.
“Maybe not, though I can’t for the life of me imagine that you would go undie-less and not jump Dillon Cash.” She waved a hand. “But even if you didn’t, Mabel’s told everyone you’re the reincarnation of Jezebel, so you might as well have.”
“Her Bunko group at the senior center. And you know that’s as good as telling every person in this town.” Terry grinned. “Looks like I might have some competition for next week’s list.”
Hope fired inside of Meg, dispelling her sudden embarrassment. “You really think so?”
“One more date with Dillon and I’m old news.”
Terry’s words were like a rush of wind and just like that, the hope died. “I wouldn’t write a goodbye speech just yet.” At the woman’s questioning look, Meg added, “I’m not seeing him again.”
Terry arched an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”
That good.
Meg could still remember the feel of his skin beneath hers, his hands roaming her body, his hips pumping furiously, his penis plunging deep. Her cheeks heated. “I wouldn’t exactly say he was bad. It just wasn’t what I expected.” It was more, which meant she couldn’t—wouldn’t—go out with Dillon again, not even for the sake of Tilly’s list.
She tamped down a rush of disappointment and tried to focus on the positive. The lessons, however few, had obviously worked. She’d finally reached Jezebel status.
The trick now was to figure out a way to keep it, at least for the next week until Tilly announced her new list.
Her mind raced and rifled through dozens of possibilities as she turned her attention to unpacking merchandise. She’d just pulled a pair of Gucci silver slingbacks from a mound of tissue paper when genius seemed to strike.
If being seen with the town’s hottest guy had upped her sex factor that much, then being seen with another guy—not as yowza as Dillon when it came to sex appeal, but still a respectable wow—might solidify it.
The notion struck and she almost pushed it back out. The sudden thought of being with a good-looking man, touching him, kissing him, didn’t stir the same excitement that it usually did.
Because of Dillon.
He wasn’t just a hot guy. He was a double whammy—a hot guy and her friend, and last night she’d realized just how dangerous to her control such a combination could be.
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