One look at his eyes told her he wasn’t inviting her in for a quick cuppa. His whole body appeared taut with need, wanting, and arousal.
That made two of them.
“Why?”
It was the grin that convinced her. That and the feral gleam in his dark eyes. “You tell me. Why were you here earlier?”
“I was hungry.” If she was being incautious, might as well do it thoroughly.
He motioned her to enter with a graceful movement. His bare, muscular arm was covered with a sprinkling of soft, golden hair that gleamed in the light.
Antonia paused midstep, met his almost feral eyes, and smiled, her chest tightening and every nerve ending in her body thrumming with anticipation. In three good strides, she was over his threshold, turning to face him as he pulled the door closed behind him. He grinned, resting one broad shoulder against the jamb, as he folded his arms across his magnificent chest.
He was damn lucky she wasn’t grabbing him by the neck and throwing him to the floor. What sort of man toyed with a vampire? Unless, of course, he thought her insane, or he was some sort of fanatic.
His weren’t the eyes of a fanatic.
No fanatic had wide lips that curled at the corners, setting a dimple in his left cheek. “Fancied me for dinner, did you?”
“Just fancied you, really.”
Again that glorious laugh. A rich peak of amusement, excitement, burgeoning life, and a tinge of the unknown.
What in Abel’s name was she waiting for? Her gums, tingling earlier, now burned. Hunger and need stirred deep. How in Abel’s name had she thought a horse would satisfy? Her mouth curled at the memory of docile Madam. This man she ached for was feral.
She stepped close, felt his living breath ruffle her hair, heard his heartbeat and the steady rhythm of lifeblood flowing. Caught the sweet scent of fresh male sweat and the restrained need that thrummed off him in waves. Need that primed her own arousal.
This was insane, but perhaps she’d been sane for far, far too long. Strong, poised, self-possessed, always in control. Laughter rose deep in her belly, bursting in a great peal of joy as she reached out across the centimeters that separated them and touched his arm.
His hand closed over hers, meshing their fingers. If she were mortal, her heart would race and her blood pressure mount. Her heart might not pound, but her chest tightened just as if she were being laced into one of those damned corsets she’d had to wear a century or so ago.
As he lifted her hand to his mouth, she pulled away, uncertain, irritated at his assumptions. Even if they were spot on. His grip tightened, and he drew her hand upward, never taking his eyes from hers, he whispered, “Oh, yes.” And brushed his lips on her knuckle.
Make that knuckles! All one hundred ninety-nine of them! Very, very slowly! His touch sent wild messages to her brain and other, far more sensitive parts. His lips seemed to burn against her skin. As he pulled her to him, she splayed her free hand on his chest to maintain space between them, but he pulled her tight, chuckling as he wrapped his arm around her, trapping her hand against the hard muscle of his chest. He smiled and brushed his lips on hers.
Sweet nights and bat wings! What was he? Who was he? And did it matter a mortal cuss?
As his mouth pressed gently, almost tentatively, her lips parted. Heat inflamed her mind as she met his kiss touch for touch, pressure for pressure, tongue to tongue, as she leaned into him.
He responded by angling his hips against hers. There was no mistaking his interest. Arousal was not the word for the iron hard cock pressing against her belly. Insane, crazed, or just plain moonstruck, his need matched hers. Oh! How they matched! She smiled under the onslaught of his mouth. As he eased the kiss, probably to catch his breath the way mortals were wont to, she reached up, pulling his head back down, mashing her lips on his, invading his mouth with her tongue, and willing his need to meet hers.
He wasn’t complaining.
Not in the least!
Sliding his hands down her back, he eased under her shirt and ran his warm hands over her skin. Involuntarily, she shivered.
“Cold?” he asked, his eyes almost glazed as he pulled his lips a breathspace from hers.
“Not in the least.”
He replied by unsnapping her bra and smoothing his hands up to her nape and back down to ease his fingertips inside her waistband. She had it easier—nothing but hot male skin fore and aft—and as he explored, she mirrored his actions.
“You’ve got cold hands,” he murmured.
With good reason. “I did warn you.”
“You didn’t tell the half.”
She might feel cold to his touch, but his warmth leeched into her bones. Heat flared between them. One hand held her still as his other eased around to cup her breast, causing her to shudder with pleasure. She felt his erection even stronger as his eager fingers found her nipple, tugging gently as it hardened with need.
Forget reason or sanity! Damn caution! Grasping his shoulders, she wrapped her legs around his waist. They were now eye to eye. His hands abandoned their caress and grasped her bottom, pulling her even closer, rubbing his erection where she wanted it most, or almost the most. She wanted his hard heat deep inside.
“Sure?” he asked. For a second, she fancied he’d read her mind. “Mean it, do you?” He rocked her against his erection. “Because I’m pretty much at the point of no return.”
She was impressed. How many mortals resisted her this long? “I’m certain.” She smiled. “I hope you are?”
“Hell, yes,” he muttered, his voice as ragged as the jerky movements of his chest. Plastering his mouth on her, he carried her across the room. She was going backward through an open doorway, until he tipped her and they both bounced as they hit the mattress. “Got you where I need you!” he whispered. “All I need now is to have you naked.”
He stood up, spreading her legs with his strong hands.
“I need more than just me being naked,” she said, sitting up and reaching for his zip. He moved faster. Impossible, but it happened. Grasping her knees, he lifted her legs and, stepping back a little, pulled off her shoes and socks before wrapping a strong hand round each ankle and placing her feet on his chest.
She bent her knees, intending to push him away and reestablish who was stronger, but he took the advantage. Leaning over as her knees bent, he opened her shirt, pushing aside her bra and cupping her breasts with his hands.
Darn it! That horse had to have been doped! It was impossible that Michael was strong as she. It violated the laws of nature and reason, but nature and reason scarcely mattered as his lips closed over her breast. She let her legs sag open and cried out as his erection pressed against her.
They both had too many damn clothes on.
He was starting on her other breast when she reached for his jeans, trying to fumble with his zip. She moved to make it easier but
