He was getting himself back under control. For me. I scrambled up the length of his body to basically attack his mouth. A strange response to a man’s demonstrated resistance to violence, but good God, Dick Cheney restraining himself for my sake was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen.
This self-imposed “cooling off” did not seem to affect the rather respectable bulge growing in his jeans. I rolled my hips, enjoying the little whimpering sounds he made in his throat as the growing warmth between my thighs made contact with that impressive erection. I grinned against his mouth, pleased and just a little smug.
He spread his large hand with its long, graceful fingers over my breast, pushing the lace camisole aside. He thumbed my nipple, while his other hand caressed the length of my spine. Those same long fingers pressed against my ass, pinning me against him as he bucked his hips. He nosed along my jaw, pressing cool, wet kisses that left me shivering in his wake. His forehead bumped against the bandage on my neck. I hissed against the throb of pain and he drew back.
“Sorry,” he breathed.
“It’s OK,” I told him.
Dick pushed my hair back from my face and cupped my cheek. “How are you feeling?”
Sighing, I sat up, and he followed, grabbing his shirt and dropping it back over his head, effectively killing whatever this was. I couldn’t help but pout a little. Good-bye, admirable abdominals.
“So . . . that happened,” he said.
“Yes, it did.”
“But I won’t blame you if you want to blame this on me and my vampiric nature taking advantage of you in your weak state.”
I shook my head. “I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. And not trusting you has nothing to do with your being a vampire. I didn’t trust you because you’re so damned charming. I don’t trust charming. I don’t trust myself to choose correctly.”
“I trust you.”
“That’s because I just made out with you.”
“That’s probably true. But just so you know, I don’t do that with just anyone.”
“That’s not what I’ve been told. You have a reputation, Cheney.”
“Slander, honey, and falsehoods. I kissed you because you’re special.”
“Because of my blood type.”
“Because of you. Because you’re funny and smart and a little scary when you need to be. And because you’re becoming sassier every day, and I love it. It’s like watching someone put temporary tattoos on the Mona Lisa. It shouldn’t be awesome, but somehow it is.”’
“It has nothing to do with you wanting to take a bite out of me?”
“If all I wanted to do was to take a bite out of you, I would’ve done that when you were helpless and unconscious. Of course, if you want to discuss some mutually agreed-upon nibbles, I wouldn’t say no. But that’s not why I want to be with you. I want to be with you because of you.”
My lips twitched. “Thank you.”
“So are you going to go out in public with me or just use me for my snuggling skills?”
I sighed. “It’d be wrong, wouldn’t it? Just to use you for your body?”
Dick stared off into space for a moment, eyes slightly glazed over.
“Dick?”
“Sorry, I need a minute to collect myself,” he said, squirming uncomfortably in his jeans. “OK, I’m collected. I’d be fine with you just using me for my body. It’s mutually beneficial.”
“I knew you would be,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“So you’ll go to the wedding rehearsal with me?”
“Yes,” I told him. “If for no other reason than I think Jane’s got some sort of disaster brewing with Zeb and Zeb’s mom and the werewolf aunties. You know, she’s a generally nice person. Why do so many people get so mad at her?”
Dick shrugged. “It’s part of her charm. It’s sorta like goin’ to a drag race just because you want to see a crash.”
I pursed my lips. “You’re a horrible human being.”
“Not a human,” he said, shaking his head. “Oh, but if we’re going to go on a date, you can’t do that with your mouth. It makes me want to do this.”
And with that, Dick gave me another long, lingering kiss.
6
You will find love again. You just have to be open to what life or undeath throws at you.
—Surviving the Undead Breakup: A Human’s Guide to Healing
I sat in Specialty Books at a heavy leaded-glass and maple desk that had been cleared of the many layers of dusty books in the last week, cataloguing the shop’s ceremonial athames. Mr. Wainwright had stocked an alarming number of knives for a bookshop.