Drop Dead Gorgeous

by Kimberly Raye

  Dillon smiled, his teeth a startling break in the black shadow of his face. Then the expression faded as he gazed down at her. His attention shifted, traveling from her face, down the column of her neck to her breasts, to the spread of her thighs and his finger, which poised at her pulsing cleft.

  He pushed all the way in and she moaned, coming up off the bed as pure pleasure pierced her brain. The feeling, so consuming and exquisite, sucked the air from her lungs and she stopped breathing for a long moment. He didn’t move, just held himself deep inside as her body settled around him and clamped tighter.

  “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman before,” his voice was gruff. Or after.

  The words sounded so clear and distinct in her head, as if he spoke them directly into her ear. He didn’t. He didn’t have to. He’d invaded her mind as well as her body, and they were telepathically linked now.

  An unbreakable bond.

  A spurt of excitement went through her, followed by a wave of anxiety that gripped her and refused to let go. She lifted her pelvis, focusing on the pleasure that gripped her as she worked her body around his decadent finger. She leaned into him only to pull away. She swayed from side to side, her movements frantic, desperate, as she pushed herself higher and higher, desperate to feel rather than think.

  “You’re so beautiful.” The words pierced the humming in her ears and she went still. Her eyes opened to find him staring down at her. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He kissed her softly on her swollen lips. “Or touched.” He kissed her again. “Or loved.”

  Before the words could register, his mouth swooped down and captured hers in a deep kiss that went way beyond the sweet press of his lips. He coaxed her open and slid his tongue inside and drew on her sweetly, tenderly for several long moments. Until her frantic heartbeat eased and she forgot all about sucking him deeper into her greedy body. Instead, she wanted to wrap her arms around him, pull him even closer and feel his heartbeat against her own.

  A second later, she found herself free to do just that.

  Her hands slid over his shoulders and held tight. She relished the feel of his body as it pressed against hers, his heartbeat so steady and sure against her breasts. She’d never felt closer to a man at that moment.

  A vampire.

  She tried to remember that all-important fact. It explained the sudden about-face and the fact that he couldn’t keep his hands off of her and that they were having the hottest, most passionate sex of her entire life.

  Because he was a vampire.

  She could have been any woman, she knew. But damned if he didn’t make her feel like the only woman.

  His woman.

  A trick of the trade, she told herself. Vampires could mesmerize. She’d learned that tonight. Dillon was just playing mind games.

  And doing it quite well.

  He canted his head to the side and deepened the kiss. He plundered her mouth with his, exploring and savoring. The air stalled in her lungs and her heart sped faster. A few more seconds and he tore his mouth from hers.

  He slid down her body, now slick from the fever that raged inside of her, and left a blazing path with the velvet tip of his tongue. With a gentle pressure, he parted her thighs. Almost reverently, he stroked the soft, slick folds between her legs.

  She was wet and throbbing and he swore softly. Tremors seized her when she felt his warm breath blowing softly on the inside of her thigh, directly on the tiny prick points where he’d drunk from her. His tongue darted out, flicking first one then the other, and it was like being zapped by white lightning. Pleasure sliced through her, cracking her open from head to toe. She gasped and dug her nails into his shoulders as wave after wave of ecstasy washed through her.

  She wasn’t sure what happened after that. She was too busy floating, her body weightless, her mind buzzing with sensation. She only knew that one minute he had his jeans on and the next, he was settling his naked body between her damp thighs.

  A condom.

  The warning sounded in her head when she felt his hard, hot length rub her pulsing clit. She tried to clamp her legs shut, but he was too close, his thighs wedging her open. His deep voice whispered through her head.

  I can’t hurt you. I wouldn’t hurt you.

  The seconds ticked by as he waited for her. She finally nodded and it was all the encouragement he needed.

  With a swift thrust of his hips, he impaled her on his rigid length and all worry faded as heat drenched her. Sensation overwhelmed her at first. The feel of him so hot and thick pulsing inside her nearly made her come without any warning.

  She anchored her arms around his neck and her muscles clamped down around his erection. She didn’t want to let him go, but he had other ideas.

  He withdrew and slid back in for the second time. His hard length rasped her tender insides, creating a delicious friction that sent a dizzying rush straight to her brain. He pulled out again, and went back for a third time. A fourth.

  His body pumped into hers over and over, pushing her higher with each delicious plunge. She lifted her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, eager to feel more of him. Harder. Deeper. Faster.

  Look at me.

  She opened her eyes and stared up at him as he poised over her. He pushed into her, his penis hot and twitching, and she knew it was his last and final time. He was going over the edge before her.

  It’s not about my own pleasure. It’s about pleasuring someone else.

  Yet here he was, mindless with pleasure, lost in his own orgasm.

  His arms braced on either side of her, his muscles bulging and tight as he held himself. The tendons in his neck stood out. His eyes blazed a bright, vivid purple. His jaw clenched and his lips parted. His fangs gleamed as he let loose a loud hiss that faded into a long moan as Meg arched her pelvis.

  His penis twitched and throbbed, and she felt a spurt of warmth. He bucked once, twice and she followed him over the edge. Convulsions gripped her body and suddenly she was floating again on a cloud of pure satisfaction.

  Several breathless moments passed as she lay there, trying to come to grips with what had just happened.

  He’d climaxed first.

  This time, she reminded herself. But she’d come plenty of times before, when he’d had her pinned against the wall. He’d already drank his fill. Of her blood and her energy.

  That’s what she told herself because she certainly wasn’t going to consider the alternative—that he might feel something more for her. Something that had nothing to do with being a vampire and everything to do with being a man.

  A man in love.

  Right.

  Dillon Cash didn’t love her. He couldn’t love her. Because regardless of what had just happened—a fluke, of course—he was a vampire.

  One who’d slept with a ridiculous number of women.

  One who would sleep with even more.

  He had to in order to survive. She wanted him to. That’s why she’d offered herself to him tonight. Because he needed her.

  Friends, she reminded herself.

  But when Dillon rolled onto his back and pulled her flush on top of him, she felt like anything but his friend. His hands stroked her back, her buttocks, holding her close, touching her intimately. A lover’s touch rather than a friend’s.

  The notion sent her scrambling from the bed.

  “Meg?” His voice followed her as she snatched up her clothes. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s late,” she blurted the first thing that popped into her head. “I need to get home.” Dread welled inside of her and panic beat at her temples as she jerked on her vest and pants, her movements frantic and hurried. She needed to get out of here. Now. Before she did something she would surely regret.

  Like climb back into bed with him and stay there forever.

  “Wait!” His frantic voice followed her, his footsteps dogging her up the stairs to the ground floor. “Would you just wait a second?”

  She rushed through
the house, snatching up her purse as she headed for the front door.

  “Dammit, woman!” He caught one hand while the other reached for the doorknob.

  His fingers burned into hers and she yanked open the door. Early-morning light spilled through the open doorway. His hand fell away and a loud hiss sizzled in her ears. He murmured a fierce shit as he stumbled backward.

  She barely resisted the urge to turn and reassure herself that he was okay.

  He would be. She’d made sure of that tonight. She’d given him what he needed—her body and her blood—and that was more than enough to strengthen him against whatever he might face.

  A vampire hunter. The Ancient One. A few rays of sunlight.

  They were friends, she reminded herself, and then she stepped out into the morning sunlight, pulled out her cell phone and called Nikki for a ride home.

  HE’D BEEN WRONG ABOUT her.

  Dillon paced the floor in his room and ignored the exhaustion that tugged at his muscles. It was daylight and he needed to sleep. To rejuvenate.

  Christ, he’d been wrong. So fucking wrong.

  The truth crystallized as he stared at the tell-tale stain on his sheets from where he’d bitten her. His nostrils flared and his mouth watered. He could still taste her. Even more, he could feel her. The anguish that ate away at her. The uncertainty as she paced the front porch upstairs and waited for Nikki. The fear as she thought about going back inside to see him just one more time.

  They were linked now and as much as that should have bothered him, it didn’t.

  He loved her. He always had, even way back when he’d been too young and naive to know it. And later when he’d been too damned uncertain to act on it.

  And she loved him.

  Man or vampire or both?

  He didn’t know, and he never would because he refused to take a chance.

  That’s why he’d convinced himself that her attraction wasn’t to him, but to the sexy beast he’d become. Because deep down, beneath the confidence and charisma that came with being a vampire, he was still the same man. The same boy who’d acted on a whim so long ago and had ended up in the hospital.

  He’d been scared to death ever since.

  He’d blamed his parents for being overprotective and paranoid. But in reality, he’d been just as bad. Afraid to take chances, to live for the moment, to live, period.

  Sure, he’d been burning the candle at both ends for the past two months, enough to break Bobby’s record and go down in the history books, but that was different. Being a vampire reduced the risk. He knew no man could best him physically. And no woman could refuse him sexually.

  No woman, that is, until Meg.

  She’d held out at first and surprised the hell out of him.

  He realized then that she wasn’t just any woman.

  She was every woman.

  And she loved him even if she didn’t want to admit it.

  Right now, a voice whispered, taunting him as he collapsed on the bed and gave in to the darkness tugging and pulling at his senses. At this moment. But later when things go back to normal?

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  He didn’t know. He only knew that it was a chance he was suddenly willing to take rather than face the thought of losing her completely.

  For a lifetime.

  Forever.

  “LOOKS LIKE SOMEBODY HAD a busy night,” Terry remarked when Meg walked into the boutique several hours later, after a half-hour ride back to town with Nikki and more than one knowing glance.

  The woman hadn’t said much when she’d dropped Meg off at home to check on Babe except “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

  The only trouble was, Meg couldn’t shake the feeling that from this moment on, nothing would be okay. Her life had changed tonight. He’d changed.

  And there would be no going back to the way things had been.

  She ignored the crazy thought. Everything would be okay. Dillon was stronger now. Together, he and Jake and Garret would find and defeat the Ancient One. He would reclaim his humanity, go back to being her good buddy, and all would be right with the world.

  All she had to do was keep her distance from now on until he was back to his old self—and not nearly as tempting—and everything would be okay.

  She clung to the notion and focused on Terry. “Don’t tell me—you hooked up with some hot and hunky cowboy and had wild and uncontrollable sex last night.”

  “Not me,” the woman blurted. “You.” Terry handed over the Lifestyle section from the morning’s issue of the Skull Creek Gazette. “You made Tilly’s Around the Town column!”

  Meg unfolded the paper and stared at a picture that had been taken at The Roundup last night. She and Colt stood wrapped in a heated embrace, right above the caption There’s a new sheriff in town!

  She skimmed the three paragraphs about the town’s hottest new real estate agent who seemed a shoe-in to unseat one of the regulars and make next week’s Randiest Roosters list.

  Oddly enough, Meg didn’t feel half as disappointed as she should have over the fact that she didn’t get so much as a mention. Instead, she skimmed the background faces, searching for one in particular.

  She caught a glimpse of Dillon near the bar, his gaze trained on her. A very vivid image of last night rushed at her and she remembered his blond head between her legs, his mouth drawing on her tender flesh, and the rush of pleasure she’d felt.

  He hadn’t just taken from her. Rather, as her essence had flowed into his mouth, she’d felt something flow back—a fierce current that had pulsed from his body into hers, pulling them closer, winding them tighter, connecting them.

  No.

  He’d fed and she’d eased her conscience knowing that she’d done everything possible to help him in the battle that awaited him. Now it was back to work.

  To life.

  Bye-bye Jezebel.

  Her gaze dropped to the article again. Not one mention of her. Or her sexy outfit or the fact that Colt hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her.

  Nothing.

  She waited for the rush of disappointment, the clenching in her gut, the dread in her stomach and the certainty that her tombstone would one day read:

  Here lies tough and rough Manhandler Meg,

  Who loved sports and kicked ass and could drain a keg,

  She tried shedding her image, but was still a bruiser,

  Now she’s six feet under and a perpetual loser.

  But when she drank in the page, the only thing she felt was a strange tightening in her chest. Her gaze kept going back to Dillon and the dark look on his face.

  As if he felt more for her than just a vampire’s lust.

  She remembered last night and the soft mattress at her back, the strong, purposeful lover leaning over her, the strange gleam in his eyes as he’d stared down at her.

  A look that had had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted her and everything to do with the fact that he wanted her.

  “Are you okay?” Terry’s voice drew her back to reality.

  “Fine.” Meg shook away the haunting images. She drew a deep breath and swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. “Why?”

  “For a second there, you looked like you were going to cry.”

  “Cry?” She forced a laugh. “Why would I do something ridiculous like that?”

  Because you love him, stupid. You. Love. Him.

  Hardly. She liked him. A lot. They were the best of friends. But honeymoon-in-Jamaica, house-in-the-suburbs, kids-and-a-minivan, ’til-death-do-us-part love?

  Love was the culmination of everything—admiration, respect, comfort, protection, rip-off-your-clothes-and-get-naked-now-desperation, trust—the entire cake so to speak, complete with a layer of filling and sprinkles on top.

  Meg was only interested in the butter-cream icing. The rich, decadent, addictive lust. She wanted to feel desired, sought after, wanted.

  All the things Dillon had made her feel last night, and the
n some.

  “Good,” Terry said, drawing Meg’s attention before she could dwell on the last thought. “Because one depressed woman around here is enough.”

  Meg took a good look at her assistant and noted the dark circles under the woman’s eyes. “You look terrible.”

  “The end result of zero sleep and a gallon of Rocky Road ice cream.”

  “You ate an entire gallon?”

  “Hank called. And called. And a little after midnight, he showed up.”

  “Don’t tell me you slept with him again?”

  “If I had, I wouldn’t have needed the ice cream.” She stiffened. “I stood strong, told him to get lost and then slammed the door in his face. And then I headed for the fridge.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Nothing. He sat on my front steps for a little while and then he left. Then he came back and sat a while longer. Then he left. Then he came back. It was that way all night. I snuck out this morning as soon as he left for the eighth time.”

  “You should have called the police.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “But I feel responsible. I’m the one who let him back into my life.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I slept with him. I mean, I know why I did it. The sex was always really great between us and I haven’t actually had sex in a really long time, and so when I saw him, I couldn’t help myself. But I knew it was the wrong thing and I did it anyway. What was I thinking?”

  The same thing Meg had been thinking when she’d offered her body and her blood to Dillon Cash—that she could handle it. That she could give herself to him and then walk away.

  Forget.

  If only she could.

  “I’m so stupid.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Meg ignored Terry’s questioning look. “There’s no use beating yourself up. Get over it. Move on. Have your phone number changed and if he shows up again, call the police.”

  Terry looked hesitant, but then she seemed to gather her courage. “Okay.” She nodded and her determination seemed to deflate just a little. “I wish I knew what it is about this guy that makes me stop thinking like a sane rational adult.”