parted and she couldn’t help herself then. She cried out.
He caught the sound with his mouth as he moved faster, plunging harder, deeper, stronger. Convulsions gripped her. She milked him, her slick folds clenching around his throbbing penis until a growl sizzled across her nerve endings.
Wait a second. A growl?
The realization pushed through the lusty fog and zapped her back to the present. The cool brick wall and the muted music. Her ears perked, but she heard only the sound of her own breathing.
Duh.
She’d obviously deprived herself for so long that when she’d finally gone for the gusto—that is, a forbidden cowboy—the rush of sensation had been like a cattle prod to an electrical box. Her brain was fried.
He buried himself one last time and leaned into her. His body flattened hers against the brick wall. The rough slab rasped her overly sensitive nipples and desire speared her again. Every nerve in her body sizzled. She closed her eyes, relishing the aftershocks of her release which swept through her and filled up the emptiness inside.
Thank you.
The words whispered through her head and she caught them just before they spilled past her lips. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that she’d been desperate.
Why not?
Desperate was good. Desperate meant she wasn’t half as experienced as her mother and sisters. Desperate meant that Miranda Rivers was every bit the good girl she’d been pretending to be over the years.
Not that she’d ever had a doubt. She was nothing like her mother or her sisters. She wasn’t a slave to her lust and she certainly didn’t share their addiction to cowboys.
This was a one-time thing only.
She ignored the regret that whispered through her, clamped her eyes shut and simply enjoyed the sensation still rippling through her body.
“Thank you,” he murmured against her ear after a long, heart-pounding moment, his words echoing her thoughts.
He pulled away and the sudden breeze against her bare skin sent a shiver through her. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d practically read her mind.
“They’re gone.” His voice whispered through her head, distracting her from the crazy notion.
“That’s a—” relief died on her lips as she turned to find the alley empty.
Really empty. Not only had the groping couple disappeared, but her tall, dark and luscious cowboy had already cut and run, too.
And she hadn’t heard a thing.
No rustle of denim as he’d fastened his pants. No slap of boots against the pavement. No lame excuse to get away without asking for her phone number.
Nothing. As if he’d vanished into thin air.
Or back into the building.
The rear exit was the closest doorway. Chances were he’d made a hasty retreat back inside for another drink. Another woman.
So?
It wasn’t as if she expected anything more from him than the past few moments.
He was a cowboy, for heaven’s sake. Definitely the last man she’d pin her expectations on.
This wasn’t about him. It was about her. Her moment of indulgence. A chance to stop fantasizing and experience the real thing with a real man before she pledged herself to the right man.
She drew a breath, ignored the disappointment that whispered through her and gathered up her purse. It was over. Done with. Mission accomplished. Time to go home, forget her stupid fantasies and get on with her life.
She blinked against the sudden tears that burned the backs of her eyes as she headed for the back parking lot and her car.
HE’D ERUPTED LIKE A fucking volcano.
The truth followed Cody as he inched past a couple feeling each other up in the back hallway of the club and pushed through the doorway leading to the men’s room.
His nostrils flared and his gut ached. The scent of warm cherries and sweet sex clung to him. His dick still throbbed and the craziest sense of satisfaction bubbled through him.
An orgasm. He’d had an actual orgasm.
He flipped on the faucet and shoved his hands beneath the cold water. A few punches of the soap dispenser and he lathered up, desperate to erase the scent, the feel.
Her.
Because he didn’t want her. She could be any woman. Every woman.
So why had he come this time and not the countless times before?
The question struck and he scrubbed harder. Deprivation, he reminded himself. Forty-eight sexless hours. That was enough to make any vampire a little wacky. He hit the dispenser again and lathered up some more. The less she lingered on his skin, the easier it would be to forget. Her gasp of surprise. Her heartfelt gratitude. Her delicious body which had fit him so perfectly, as if she’d been made for him and only him. His unexpected release.
It had been a helluva long time since he’d reacted that way with any woman.
Try never.
At least not since he’d turned vampire.
The truth weighed down on him as he rinsed his hands.
It was a fluke. The right time. Right place.
The right woman.
He ignored the last thought and ducked his head to splash some of the cool liquid onto his face. He caught his dripping reflection in the mirror. Bright purple rimmed the edges of his pupils. His hands tightened on the sink and the color shimmered hotter, brighter.
As satisfied as he felt, he was still hungry. He needed another woman. Now.
Raking a hand through his hair, he grabbed a paper towel, wiped his hands and then headed back out to the bar.
Maybe then he could get the sound of her breathing out of his head. The disappointment that followed her to the car. The fear—
His thoughts careened to a halt as a surge of emotion went through him. In a split second, he saw Miranda standing in the back parking lot. He smelled her terror and felt her surprise as her eyes fixed on the scene unfolding near her.
And for the first time since he’d opened his eyes as a vampire, Cody Braddock was scared shitless.
“PLEASE,” CAME THE CHOKED gurgle.
Miranda’s gaze pushed through the darkness to the two shadows wedged between a pair of parked cars. Shock and disbelief whirled through her. A reaction that had nothing to do with the woman who sprawled on the ground, blood gushing from her throat,
