“Probably not.”
“Good. I’ll be waiting at the Langham’s main entrance in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be there.”
I hung up, flung the phone into my bag, and started up the car. For the first time in ages, excitement buzzed through my veins and I couldn’t help the silly grin that stretched my lips.
Yeah, Quinn and I had problems. Yep, we could be bad for each other—but we could also be damn good together. And I needed that right now. I really did.
I made it to the Langham in record time and parked in the underground lot nearby. The rates were a killer, but I didn’t care.
Quinn was waiting near the main doors. His warm gaze slid down me, heating my skin to greater degrees, then stopped when it reached my sensible black shoes.
“What happened to the pretty green ones you were wearing?”
“Stabbed a shifter with them.”
“That’s a rather nasty thing to do.” He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. His body pressed against mine, warm, hard, and wonderfully familiar. “What did she do?”
“It was the bakeneko, not an ordinary shifter.”
“Ah. Well, it wouldn’t have done much good, then. Wooden stiletto heels don’t affect bakenekos the way they do us vampires.”
His breath ran across my lips, his mouth so close I could almost taste it.
“I know,” I said, a little breathlessly. “But she was in the form of a rather large cat at the time, and that was the best weapon I had.”
“I’m gathering she got away?”
“Yep. Which is why I’m here. I need to know more about bakenekos.”
“I’ll tell you everything I know—just not right now,” he murmured, dropping feather-light kisses on either cheek before capturing my lips and kissing me long and strong.
Oh God, it was so good.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I said, a long while later.
He smiled, then slid one hand down my arm and wrapped his fingers in mine. Without another word, he tugged me forward, leading me through the Langham’s gold-and-crystal foyer and into an elevator. It swept us upward, and soon we were walking across the plush carpet toward the presidential suite.
He swept the keycard through the lock, then opened the door and ushered me through. I’d never been in a presidential suite before, and this one wasn’t only huge, but it boasted views of the skyline and the city. All the different lights twinkled like rainbow stars, the sheer beauty of them momentarily making me forget my fear of heights. Which was something I’d never thought possible. Maybe becoming a seagull had more benefits than I’d imagined.
I walked across to the plush leather seating, kicked off my shoes, then turned around and watched him stroll toward me. Like before, it was grace and elegance personified, but this time it had an added element. Sheer and utter sexiness.
I licked my lips and saw his gaze follow the movement. Smelled the sudden, delicious rise of desire. “I really need a shower first. I’m all sweaty and horrible.”
A smile teased his lips and creased the corners of his dark eyes. “I’d like to say you could never be horrible, but I’ve seen you in a coffee-deprived state.” He gave a mock shudder. “Horrible doesn’t even begin to classify it.”
I grinned and didn’t deny it. “Which way to the shower?”
“This way.” He caught my hand again and led me through a bedroom bigger than my entire apartment, then into a bathroom that was all white marble and gold elegance.
He reached into the huge double shower and turned on all the jets. Then his gaze met mine, and a sexy smile teased his mouth. “You know, of course, that you haven’t a hope in hell of showering by yourself.”
I arched an eyebrow and said saucily, “Who said I wanted to shower by myself?”
He laughed, and it was such a warm, free sound that tremors of delight ran across my skin. Then he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against him again. His body was warm and hard against mine, and his erection rubbed my belly erotically. I wished we were naked, wished it was skin on heated skin rather than silk and fiber.
And then all thought disappeared as his lips came down on mine. We kissed, exploring and remembering the taste and feel of each other so slowly and sensually.
“You need to be naked,” he said eventually, his mouth so close to mine that I felt the movement of his lips.
I kissed him lightly, then said, “You’re quite capable of handling that task.”
He smiled, dark eyes shining with amusement and desire. “So I am.”
He skimmed his hands up my waist to my shoulders, then hooked the material with his thumbs and gently pushed the straps down my arms. The dress shimmied down my body and pooled at my feet. Once I stepped free, he picked it up and tossed it toward the chair in the corner.
“Almost there,” he murmured, kissing my lips, my neck, my throat. His tongue lingered on the pulse point at the base of my neck for a moment, and his desire surged, scorching my skin. Then his kisses ran down my body, until he reached my breasts. He kissed one nipple, then the other. I shuddered in delight, arching a little to offer him greater access. He chuckled softly, and caught one nipple with his teeth, nipping it lightly then suckling it. I moaned, and the desire that was already burning through my system became an inferno that seared the very air.
His lips left my breasts and moved down my stomach. I shuddered, enjoying the sensual exploration even as I wished he would hurry.
He slid his fingers through either side of my panties and pushed them down my legs. I stepped out, and he tossed them in the general direction of the dress. Then he kissed my thighs, and the junction between them, before rising and stepping back. His gaze took in my breasts, my curves, my legs, and he sighed.
“Glorious,” he said, his gaze rising to mine again. In the dark depths longing echoed. And a longing that spoke of months, years—centuries, even—not just minutes. Once that would have scared me, but not now. Now, I finally understood it. “Absolutely glorious.”
But it wasn’t his words that had my silly heart doing strange things. It was the way it sounded when he said it. It was the longing and the loneliness I saw in his eyes given voice.
“My turn,” I said, and proceeded to strip him—slowly and deliciously—allowing plenty of time for my fingers to slide across his skin, remembering the contours of his golden body, the feel of all that lean muscle. It was good to be able to touch him again, to tease and arouse him as his scent swirled around me, filling every breath and making my soul sigh in pleasure.
When we were both finally naked, I caught his hand and pulled him under the water. The needle-fine water was hot, but I barely even felt it because of the heat in my own skin.
“I had a dream just like this, once,” I said, as he grabbed the soap and began washing my back and butt.
He raised an eyebrow, dark eyes sparkling with the same sort of heated desire that was running riot through me. “Who said it was a dream?”
A smile teased my lips as I raised an eyebrow. “I was asleep. That makes it a dream.”
“There is no such thing as sleep when our minds are able to connect so intimately.”
He continued to wash me, his movements slow and sensual. Between the heat of the water and the heat of his hands, I was pretty much ready for anything.
“So it wasn’t a dream?”
He shrugged, a movement so eloquent. “It was desire and fulfillment captured on a field only telepaths with a deep connection can reach. Nothing less, nothing more.”
“It was a whole lot more, let me tell you.”
He smiled and kissed my lips. “Would you like that dream to become a reality?”
“Please,” I whispered.
“Your wish is my command.”
He turned me around so that, as in the dream, my back was against the hard heat of his body, his erection nudging my butt as he began to wash my breasts and belly. The scent of lavender touched the air, filling every breath, as tantalizing as the scent of sandalwood and man.