Accidental Sire(57)

I threw my covers back and scooted to the end of the bed, meeting him there. I was grateful I was wearing some of my more forgiving pajamas. Soft cotton pants covered in dancing jelly beans with a loose blue T-shirt.


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"You're going to sleep, because that's what we need to do," I told him. "Because we have to get up tomorrow night and start all over again. We've got to go to work and do our jobs and act like a coworker three floors down didn't try to murder us, because that's what Jane needs us to do. And so far, as much as I hate to admit it, the things Jane has asked us to do have worked."

"But all that stuff Jane said about shark genes and pumpkins-"

"Doesn't change anything," I told him. "We're not normal. We knew we weren't normal when we got here. Having the specifics? That doesn't change anything. You're still you. I'm still me. We just have some extra flavors swirled in, like those little chunks of chocolate in Cherry Garcia."

Ben opened his mouth to protest but seemed to think better of it and nodded. "Thank you."

I smiled, even as I felt the heavy pull of the sunrise, dragging away my energy and focus. "Now, get back to your room and get to bed before the sun comes up and-"

Suddenly, Ben's eyes rolled back, and he sagged forward, landing on top of me and face-planting in my cleavage. I fell back on my bed, with Ben still on top of me.

"That happens," I muttered, thunking my head back on the mattress. I tried to raise my arms to push him off me, but they were so heavy and fatigued that they basically just flopped against his back. And the last thought that flitted through my head before dropping off was about how very awkward it was going to be when Ben woke up with his face buried in my cleavage.



I woke up with a solid weight on top of me. Eyes still closed, I patted up that weight's back, running my hands through silky, soft hair. Ben was still on top of me, and it was, indeed, very awkward having his face tucked into my right breast and his hand curled possessively around my left breast. He looked very content. And I had to snort. Men did not change, from the cradle to after the grave.

Hesitantly, I took my fingertips and traced the curve of his cheek, his strong, square jaw. He really was adorable, even with those big green eyes closed. His full mouth was relaxed and soft. He lifted his head and blinked at me.

I grinned at him, fully prepared to make a joke about his boob-burrowing, but before I could speak, he bent his head to kiss me. He drew back, those eyes sweeping over my face, as if he was gauging my reaction, so I leaned up and kissed him back.

I giggled silently against the skin of his jaw. His feet were so cold against my legs, but I didn't dare make a noise. Jane and Gabriel had superhearing. 

I wrapped my legs around his hips, throwing my head back as my own wet, willing flesh came into contact with his hard length. He was ready underneath those basketball shorts. His hands drifted lazily down my sides and squeezed at my hip bones, a reassuring little touch. I liked that he didn't push. That he seemed to enjoy every step as much as I did. He wasn't rushing to the finish line.

This felt right. Not because I was his sire or because we were the only two super-rare vampires in this tiny little weirdo boat but because his lips were the only ones I wanted to be kissing. Everything about our relationship was complicated except for this. I wanted him, and he wanted me. This was the moment I'd wanted, that night in front of my dorm. This was where I'd hoped that flirting and fun would lead before everything went awry and I went into foster survival mode, and hmm, what was that thing he was doing with his tongue?

Ben climbed up the mattress to stretch completely over me. His hips cradled into mine as his hands spanned my waist, sliding under my butt and arching me up as he pressed between my thighs. I rolled my hips, chasing the sensation of feeling him against me. I moaned into his mouth, which seemed to spur him on, making his kisses more urgent. I tugged at his hair, breaking from his lips to kiss along the curve of his jaw.

He flicked his tongue against the skin behind my ear. I threaded my fingers through his hair, scratching my nails along his neck. My feet stroked his legs. I couldn't seem to touch enough of him. I wanted it all, every inch of skin. I wanted to touch it, to taste it, to make him feel all the things he was making me feel.

His mouth tasted like cinnamon and sin. It was want, pure and simple.

We didn't have much time before sunset. And that meant he was going to be in my bed when the others got up.