The Bite Before Christmas

by Heidi Betts

  When he got to her feet, he tore her boots off with the jeans and let the entire pile of balled-up clothing fall to the floor with a thump. Then he kicked off his own slacks, slipped an arm under her waist, and lifted her off the bed just enough to whip back the covers and set her down again on cool, pale green cotton sheets.

  He moved so fast, he made her dizzy, but she suspected his speed had less to do with his being a vampire and more to do with his being simply a man eager to get lucky. Not that she minded; she was pretty eager to get lucky herself.

  As he came down atop her, covering her from chest to ankle, her brows knit and she felt her mouth turn down in a frown.

  “What’s the matter?” Connor asked.

  He was strangely attuned to her every mood or change of expression, she was learning. Was that a vampire thing, or just another natural trait of the handsome, charming man?

  “Nothing,” she said, giving her head a weak shake. When he arched a dark brow and continued to stare, she rolled her eyes and let out a sigh of surrender.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she told him truthfully. “I’m just sorry you got into bed so fast. I would have liked to look at you a while longer.”

  Admire his amazing physique, get a better glimpse of the rigid length that had been pressed against her for so long. And that she would soon—please, God—have inside of her.

  A devilish glint sparkled in his kohl-gray eyes as he grinned down at her. “We’ll do the show-and-tell thing later. I’ve got a few fantasies that involve you being stark naked and swinging around the bedpost like it’s a stripper pole, too.”

  He shifted so that his body was better aligned with hers, sending shivers up her spine at the friction of skin on skin.

  “Right now, though, my self-control is at a minimum.” He nuzzled her throat, making her purr and wiggle beneath him in an effort to get closer. “I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last, and if I have to stand still while you ogle me like a particularly juicy steak, it will be over much, much too soon.”

  She nearly chuckled at his creative descriptions. “I don’t know about a steak,” she told him, lifting first one leg and then the other to wrap around his narrow hips. She followed suit with her arms, letting them drape so that she could cup the globes of his tight, bare butt.

  Mm-mm. If Will could see her now, he wouldn’t call her boring or frigid. He would probably be picking his tongue up off the floor.

  “Maybe an ice cream sundae with hot fudge and caramel, whipped cream and a big, succulent cherry on top.”

  She could have sworn she felt his teeth—the fangs or just his regular teeth?—nip the side of her neck, but he licked the spot so quickly after that she couldn’t be sure.

  “Food doesn’t usually interest me all that much,” he murmured against her skin, “but you’re making a simple dessert sound like ambrosia…and making me very, very hungry.”

  “Hungry for food?” she wanted to know. “Or hungry for something else?”

  He lifted his head, his gaze boring into her while she raked her nails suggestively along his buttocks and lower back.

  “For you. Only for you.”

  BITE TEN

  Connor couldn’t believe the intensity of the feelings coursing through his veins for this woman. He’d known Jillian barely a week, but already he couldn’t get enough of her: her beauty and her wit, her equal parts innocence and brazenness.

  He wanted to know everything about her. What made her laugh, what made her cry. What frightened her—other than vampires, anyway—and what infuriated her.

  But that would take time—time he was looking forward to spending with her, but not time he cared to take right this minute. Right this minute, the only thing he wanted to learn about her was where her sweet spots were and what made her scream like a banshee.

  While he continued to nip and lick and suckle the soft skin of her throat and along her collarbone, he slipped his hands down the sides of her slim waist to cup her buttocks. Her legs were already wound around his hips like ivy, holding him close, burning him with her intimate warmth.

  And all he could think about was getting inside of her. A battery of foreplay options raced through his head. All very good, very enjoyable acts that he fully intended to perform on and with her…later.

  He hadn’t lied when he’d told her his self-control was running out. He felt like a rubber band stretched to its absolute limit. His skin tingled, blood was pounding hot and heavy in his veins, and if his cock grew any harder, he was afraid one touch would snap it off like an icicle.

  He needed her, and all the petting and stroking and flowery, seductive wooing would have to wait.

  Not that he was worried about her level of readiness. Her nipples were pointy little diamonds in the centers of her full, luscious breasts, her breaths were coming in tiny, shallow pants, and he could feel the dampness between her legs just from where they pressed together like Twinkies inside their cellophane wrapper.

  His penis twitched at the thought of rubbing against her moist curls, of sliding home and feeling her slick walls engulf him with heat and sensation.

  Raising his mouth from her throat and the tops of her breasts, he waited until her eyes fluttered open to meet her gaze.

  “Tell me you want me,” he demanded in a rough whisper.

  He didn’t know why he needed to hear her say it, why he was risking the possibility that she might come to her senses, realize she didn’t want him, and kick him out faster than he could say sun’s comin’ up.

  But when she didn’t hesitate, when her response came immediately—albeit slightly out of breath—something in his chest loosened at the same time it filled with relief and no small amount of possessiveness.

  “I want you,” she said, running her hands up his sweat-slicked back to his shoulders, the nape of his neck, and finally into his hair, where her fingers tangled and tugged and ratcheted his pulse rate up by another dozen beats per minute.

  “I want you,” she said again, canting her hips so that she brushed even closer to his heavy, aching arousal. “I need you. Now. Please.”

  He didn’t have to be asked—at least not twice. He needed her just as much as she needed him…and even now seemed too far away.

  Taking her mouth, he tried to show her with his lips and tongue all that and more. He kissed her like a dying man clinging desperately to life while his hands stroked her breasts, her rib cage, her navel, and lower until he reached the neat triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs.

  His fingers caressed them, playing there for just a second before sliding into her cleft, finding her soaked with her desire for him. It was like the stroke of a hand to his cock and balls, and his scrotum drew up, tightening with need.

  Parting her tender folds, he toyed gently with her clitoris and was rewarded by the sharp arch of her back, the bite of her nails at his scalp, and a low mewling from deep in her throat. He didn’t release her mouth, instead absorbing her moans into his own.

  Then he centered himself at her opening, nudging forward with the tip of his penis. He was only in an inch and already he had to clench his jaw to keep from coming undone. Having her writhe beneath him, struggling to pull him in even farther, didn’t help matters, either.

  Though he didn’t require oxygen himself, Jillian wasn’t as lucky, and he figured she could probably use a bit of fresh air by now. Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, he released her mouth, holding himself carefully above her while still covering her from chest to hip and then some.

  She gasped, sucking air into her lungs. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, her lapis blue eyes heavy lidded and glowing with passion.

  “Don’t stop,” she panted, tugging at his ears in an attempt to pull his head back down to hers.

  He couldn’t help but grin at the concern on her face. As though he had any intention of stopping. Her bigger worry should have been that once he started he would never stop. He wasn’t even fully inside of her yet and already felt as if he couldn’t get e
nough of her.

  Unable to speak past the lump in his throat and the pulse pounding in his ears, he shook his head and kissed her again, lighter this time. Short, quick bites at her lips and tongue.

  And even though her legs were already wrapped around his hips, he lifted them higher, opening her wider so that he could settle more firmly in the cradle of her thighs. He pressed forward, slowly, enjoying the sweet friction as she closed around him.

  They were both panting now, doing their best to hang on and postpone the inevitable. But there was no holding back. They’d come too far, and he wanted her too damn much.

  His incisors throbbed, wanting to sink into the tender flesh of her neck and suckle gently on the warm flow of her blood. He could smell it in her veins, coppery and sweet, and he itched to taste for himself.

  He wouldn’t, of course, not only because he’d promised to keep his fangs to himself, but also because she wasn’t ready. Not yet. But with luck…someday.

  In the meantime, simply making love to her—in the plain, old no-bloodletting sort of way—was just fine with him.

  Nipping at the side of her neck—because he couldn’t resist a teeny-tiny bit of a taste, even if it was only of her salty, sweat-slick skin—he started to slowly pull out and then surge forward. Out and in, out and in, a building rhythm that had his jaw clenching and his muscles pulling taut.

  “Connor,” Jillian breathed in his ear and against his skin. Her lips grazed his cheek, her nails scoring his back and buttocks as she twisted beneath him, urging him on.

  Together, they increased their pace, rocking, pumping, grinding until the room filled with their moans, groans, panting breaths, and the staccato crash of the bed’s giant wooden headboard against the wall. She murmured his name over and over, begging him for harder, faster, more. And he gave it to her, wanting it just as much as she did.

  Fingers clutching the soft flesh of her hips, he yanked her to him with each thrust of his own. Blood rushed through his veins, making him lightheaded and pooling in his groin until he knew he was about to explode.

  He lifted Jillian closer, holding her tight. So tight, her breasts flattened between them, the hard little beads of her nipples digging into his chest and making him crazy. The vampire in him wanted to taste her, drink from her, devour her. The man in him wanted to crawl under her skin, find more than just her G-spot, and make her scream.

  It was that last thought that sent him over the edge. The pressure in his throbbing dick reached its boiling point, sending shards of ecstasy flying in every direction as he exploded, spilling into her for what seemed like forever.

  Beneath him, Jillian shuddered and cried out as her own orgasm hit—just in time to let him know he hadn’t dropped the ball or been entirely selfish in his lovemaking. Her inner muscles clenched and rippled around him, dragging out the pleasure, he hoped for both of them.

  Finally, he collapsed, boneless, drained, and more sated than he could ever remember. With the last bit of energy he possessed, he circled her waist and rolled them to the other side of the bed so he wouldn’t crush her. And then he was out, as dead to the world as though the sun were high in the sky and he hadn’t fed for weeks.

  BITE ELEVEN

  Seconds, minutes, maybe hours later…Jillian really had no idea how much time had passed while their hearts slowed, their breathing returned to normal, and the sweat dried on their skin…she shifted beneath the cool sheets, Connor’s body warming her in all the right places.

  “So that was sex with a vampire,” she murmured, almost to herself.

  “Mmm. So what did you think?”

  “I don’t know why any woman would bother with a human lover ever again,” she answered honestly.

  His chest rumbled against her cheek with his laugh. “And you didn’t even let me bite you.”

  Goose bumps broke out along her arms and a shiver skated down her spine. She felt like a ghoul for the sensual images that were racing through her mind and the pulse-pounding feelings they evoked.

  What kind of person wanted to be bitten? How could she suddenly find the idea appealing and be thinking, Maybe next time?

  She wondered if this was why Will had cheated on her with a vampire. If he’d let her bite him. Maybe he got off on that more than anything else.

  But even without the fang-play, what had happened between her and Connor was extraordinary. At least for her.

  “Is it always like that?” she wondered aloud, then found herself holding her breath, afraid of what his response might be.

  “No,” he said, quickly enough that he didn’t have time to think about it, and she could only hope he was telling her the truth. “At least it never has been before.”

  Her head slid from his shoulder to the pillow as he rolled to his side, propping himself up on one elbow. He gazed down at her with soft gray eyes, toying with the ends of her hair, which she was sure looked like she’d been through a wind tunnel. Twice.

  “In a hundred years, I’ve been with a lot of women, vampire and human both.” He said it matter-of-factly, not bragging, but not apologizing, either. “I’ve never felt the way I do when I’m with you. And I’ve never had sex like that in my life, which—as I mentioned—has been quite extensive.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked up, and she couldn’t help mirroring the expression. He was just too cute when he was sated and relaxed, not nearly as stern and intimidating as usual.

  It didn’t hurt, either, that he was whispering words every woman dreamed of hearing. Her heart clenched, wanting so much to believe him.

  “Maybe it was a fluke,” she said, her pragmatic side rearing its head and reminding her not to be swept away by a handsome man and pretty words.

  Nodding sagely, he agreed, “You’re right. We were probably both due. I’m sure it couldn’t possibly be that fantastic the second time around.”

  Her brows rose in surprise even as her stomach plummeted. Okay, so that wasn’t quite the response she’d expected.

  “Of course, there’s only one way to find out for sure,” he continued.

  She opened her mouth to ask what that was, but he silenced her with a kiss. And then with so much more.

  Sometime in the middle of the night—which was really day for her now, she supposed—Jillian felt herself being lifted from bed and carried as carefully as a child out of the room. She stirred enough to open her eyes, and saw Connor’s strong countenance above her, dark hair ruffled, jaw squared with determination.

  It registered, somewhat belatedly, that she was wrapped in a sheet but otherwise naked. And Connor, as best she could tell, was entirely naked. He was marching down the hallway in the buff, carrying her near-buff self, without a care that someone might see them. Not that Drake Manor was brimming with activity, but at any moment, Liam, Maeve, or more likely Randall could pop out and kill her with embarrassment.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, voice raspy from disuse. Or too much use, maybe, given how often she’d screamed his name over the past few hours.

  “My room,” he told her. Firmly, definitively, brooking no argument.

  Yeah, like she was in any mood or condition to fight. If the house was on fire, she wasn’t sure she could work up the energy to care. But she was curious.

  “Why?”

  “Because I want you there. It’s where you belong.”

  Gloria Steinem be damned, his caveman routine made her weak in the knees. No man had ever carried her off to bed before, especially from one bed to another, simply to lay his claim.

  “Do you have a problem with that?” he asked when her only response was to let her eyes drift closed again as she rested her head on his broad, solid shoulder.

  “That depends. Is staying in your room with you a part of my job requirements?”

  She was teasing, and she felt certain he must know it, but his expression didn’t soften. If anything, he turned more serious.

  “About that,” he said as they reached the thick, carved wooden door leading to his
suite. Without loosening his grip on her, he twisted the knob and let them in, kicking the panel closed behind them.

  He was quiet for so long as he carried her through the sitting room and into the large master bedroom, that she thought he wasn’t going to finish what he’d been about to say. She caught a glimpse of dark, masculine colors—maroon, hunter green, touches of dark wood and gold trimmings here and there—before he set her in the middle of the neatly made bed and stepped back.

  She finally got the chance to see him, every inch of him, fully, blessedly naked. She tried to swallow, but found her mouth dry as the Gobi. He was…impressive, to say the least. Magnificent.

  And obviously aroused, regardless of the fact that they’d had hot, sweaty monkey sex not so long ago. More than once.

  While she hugged the sheet from her bed to her chest and was grateful for the covering, he didn’t seem the least bit self-conscious of either his nudity or his growing erection.

  It must be nice to be a man, she thought. All that confidence without the numerous hang-ups women had about their physical appearances. Her face flamed at the very thought of standing at naked attention as he was doing now.

  Then he drew her concentration back to his face and his previous, unfinished comment with two little words.

  “You’re fired.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

  Okay, so the caveman thing had grown old fast. And now she was thinking she might have to give Gloria Steinem a call to complain about her employer giving her the boot after he’d gotten what he wanted from her—a good, quick roll in the hay.

  “You’re fired,” he said again, eyes dark and locked on her like heat-seeking missiles.

  “I don’t want you here because I’m paying you. I’d still like you to help me plan for a traditional family Christmas, if you’re willing, but not as an employee.”

  She opened her mouth…to say what, she wasn’t sure. Either she was still half asleep or that double dose of incredible monkey sex had zapped her brain cells, because her thoughts were jumbled and she couldn’t seem to form a logical retort.