touch on his thigh, a combination of natural innocence and practiced seduction, burned through the denim.
“Are you sure, love?” he asked, not quite believing his luck.
“Chicken?” She eased from the bar stool and held out her hand.
He slipped his hand into hers. Her warm, silky skin awakened imaginings of how the rest of her would feel pressed against him. He suspected that tonight he would finally satisfy both the demon and the human.
Eagerly he followed her to where Foley’s vampire guard blocked the hall leading to the back rooms.
The vamp barely glanced at him while he rubbed together his thumb and index finger. Blake didn’t hesitate to reach into his pocket for his last twenty. He handed it to the man, who shot him an annoyed look and grunted, “Last one on the left.”
The smallest of the rooms, Blake knew, but it would hopefully do for whatever was going to happen with Little Miss Cheerleader.
She led the way, the sharp staccato of her high-heeled boots setting a rhythm as they walked to the farthest room on the left and paused before the door. He detected her hesitation then, in the slight hitch her breath gave and the waver of her hand in his.
“Nervous?” He cradled her cheek, his touch meant to soothe, but as his gaze met hers, he sensed her sudden reluctance.
Her eyes were an amazing emerald green and as her gaze swept over his face, she said, “I have a confession to make.”
“Kind of cliché at this moment, don’t you think?”
A hint of bravado flared to life in her eyes, bringing a plucky twinkle there. “Actually, the confession is that I’m kind of glad I accepted my friend’s dare.”
“A dare? Is that what I am, love?”
She shocked him by rising a bit on her tiptoes and kissing him. Her lips were warm and alive as she swept them across his mouth, then she cradled his cheek with her hand. When she finally broke away, she trailed her thumb across the slick wetness her lips had left behind on his, bringing to life an intense desire with that seductive touch.
It had been way too long since a woman had been able to reach that part of him.
“What do you think?” she said and with a wink, she opened the door, but stopped short at the sight of an assortment of whips, chains and cuffs tacked to the far wall.
He slipped in behind her and laid his hands at her waist. Bending, he whispered in her ear, “I don’t think we’ll have need of those.”
“At least not tonight,” she said, striving for a bravado that she wasn’t feeling. This definitely was not the kind of thing she had expected to encounter.
Nervously Meghan placed her hands over his as they rested at her waist. His hands were chilled. With the same reticence she was suddenly experiencing? she wondered.
“Having second thoughts?” she asked, as she faced him.
Wordlessly he moved his hands to cradle her back. His movements were sure and yet surprisingly tender as he swept them up to her shoulders. With a deft touch, he slipped her jacket off and let it fall to the ground.
“That’s better,” he said.
He ran his hands across the skin of her bare arms and the exposed expanse of her shoulders. Stroking her softly, the palms of his hands felt slightly rough against her skin. They felt like hands of someone who did physical work for a living.
“You’re so warm. Smooth,” he said.
His gentle touch roused her and drove away her earlier hesitation. From the rough look of him, she had expected that he wouldn’t be much for preliminaries, but she had been wrong. He caressed her skin before bending to kiss her.
The kiss started with a soft whisper of his lips against hers as he explored the shape of her mouth before he finally covered her mouth with his. Tentative at first, the kiss deepened by degrees until she was finally straining against him, her hands fisted in the soft leather of his jacket, pulling herself closer to him.
He took the next step then, easing his jacket off. It fell to the floor with a jangle of chains.
Beneath the jacket he wore a black T-shirt that hugged every hard line of his lean body. Meghan found that she was suddenly impatient to see more.
She grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, exposing a body that looked to be sculpted from the palest alabaster.
He wasn’t a tall man, barely inches over her own five-foot-seven height, but what there was of him was magnificently formed male. Broad shoulders, big enough to bear any burden, were thick with hard muscles that felt smooth beneath the palms of her hands. She measured the strength in them before trailing her fingers down his well-defined chest to his abdomen and then back up. She ran her fingers through the pale whorls of hair on his chest, which matched the arrogant color on his head.
“You really are a blond,” she teased, and stroked her index finger over the hard nub of his nipple.
“Are you?” he asked, and picked up his hand, trailed the rough pads of his fingers along the swell of her breasts exposed by the low neckline of the tank top and the push-up bra she wore. His actions got an immediate response as her nipples tightened in anticipation of his touch.
She looked up at him and curved her lips in what she hoped was a seductive smile. “You may have to wait a bit to find out.”
Blake laughed, her bravado stirring something deep within him. Something that couldn’t wait a second longer to take their little interlude to the next step.
He reached for the neckline of her tank top and slipped his fingers beneath, pulling away both shirt and bra with a quick tug. He heard the snap of the bra strap and felt the give as her breasts slipped free of all the fabric.
Her creamy skin was a sharp contrast to her black clothing. A flush worked over her flesh at his perusal, tempting him to feel the warmth of it against his palm.
He cupped her, and the heat of her nipple seemed to burn a hole into his palm. Still, he didn’t pull back. Instead he stroked her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
The action dragged a soft moan from her and she copied his actions, tweaking his hard male nipple with her fingers, jerking his erection to painful life.
Her gaze slipped there for but a moment before she leaned forward and closed her mouth over his nipple.
He shut his eyes against the sensation that rocketed through his body and focused on the feel of her breast in his hand, all warm and creamy. Her pulsebeat was loud in his ears and vibrated against his hand as it rested inches away from her heart, reminding him of what he was not.
Alive. Alive. Alive, drummed loudly in his head in the same beat as her pulse.
“You’re cold,” she said, In response, he called forth a bit of his demon, driving away the chill in his body to allay her concern.
“Blake?” she asked, and he realized that he didn’t even know her name.
“That’s
