And oh, it felt good. Better, even, than in the dream, and that had been delicious enough.
But now, as then, the sensation of being caught between the heat of his body, the drum of the water, and the caress of his hands was nothing short of tortuous.
I grabbed the soap from him and turned around. His beautiful body gleamed like sculptured pale-gold marble in the half-light of the bathroom, the water reverently caressing every muscle, every curve. I followed the water’s lead, soaping every marvelous inch, until he was quivering with desire and his breathing was as fast as mine.
“Enough,” he murmured, taking the soap from my hand and putting it back in the holder.
I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck and kissed him. He pressed me back against the wet, cool tiles, his mouth hungry against mine, the heat of him flowing around me, through me, burning my skin, and contrasting sharply with the coolness seeping from the tiles.
“God, I missed you,” he said softly. “Missed this.”
“So did I.”
It came out little more than a pant of air as he slid so very slowly into me. For a moment we simply stood there, his body pressed against mine, in mine, filling me, liquefying me, the water pounding our flesh but doing little to dampen the heat that burned between us. His dark gaze came to mine and, in the ebony depths, I saw the spark of determination flare. This vampire wasn’t going to be sent away again without a fight. Wasn’t going to let me go again without a fight.
But that was okay, because there was nowhere else I wanted or needed to be. Not now, and not in the immediate future.
He began to move, slowly at first but gradually getting faster, until it was all passion, heat, and intensity. Until I was drowning in the storm of it but loving every minute. And as before, the sensual heat of our dance had our spirits combining, making this more than one moment of mere intimacy, more than mere pleasure. It made us one in a way that went beyond anything I’d ever experienced with anyone else. Even Kellen.
His movements became fiercer, more urgent, and so very wonderful. The rich ache grew, flaring across my body, becoming a kaleidoscope of sensations that washed through every corner of my mind. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I could only feel. Then the shuddering took hold and I gasped, grabbing his shoulders, clambering up his body to wrap my legs around his waist and push him deeper still. Pleasure exploded between us and my orgasm ripped through my body, shuddered through my soul. He came with me, but as his body flowed into mine, his teeth grazed my neck. I jerked reflexively when they pierced my skin, but the brief flare of pain quickly became something undeniably exquisite, and I came a second time, the orgasm shuddering on as he drank briefly from my neck.
When I finally remembered how to breathe again, I opened my eyes and stared into his.
“That was even better than the dream.”
“Reality often is.”
I smiled. “The reality right now is that I’m beginning to resemble a prune.”
He laughed and turned off the water. I stepped away from him, then squeezed the water from my hair. He handed me a towel so thick and lush my fingers got lost in it, then began to dry himself with another. It was, I thought, as heat stirred anew, a delicious sight.
I shoved my hormones back into their box and began to towel myself dry. “I could really do with a coffee right now.”
“And here I was about to suggest we retire to the bed and continue our refamiliarization process there.” He flung his towel around my shoulders and tugged me close. “Because there’s still lots of you I’m hungry to explore and remember.”
And there was lots of me that wanted to be explored and remembered….
I let my towel drop and pressed myself against him. He was more than half ready to go again, and it sent a shiver of delight traipsing across my skin to know that he was as hungry for me as I was for him. “There’s nothing to say we can’t have coffee and bed. I’m versatile. I can share my pleasures.”
“I’ve heard that about you,” he said, tone serious but ebony eyes alight with amusement. “But I’m not convinced. Perhaps you need to demonstrate this versatility.”
My grin was all cheek, all dare. “Any way you want me to, vampire.”
He laughed, a low rich sound that had my hormones flipping with glee, then he grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the bedroom. “With a challenge like that, it could be a very long time before we surface.”
And it was.
But God, it was good.
One thing about being in the presidential suite, I discovered, was all manner of food being available on call whenever you wanted it.
I sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, the tray in front of me holding a hamburger with all the trappings, a hazelnut coffee in the biggest mug the hotel could find, and chocolate-coated strawberries that were as sweet and delicious as they looked. Right now, I was alternating between them and the burger, and getting some very disapproving looks from Quinn. He might have proved in the last few hours that he wasn’t as old-fashioned when it came to lovemaking as I’d thought, but it seemed he still had a few hang-ups about the way food should be eaten.
Not that he’d actually eaten anything for a very long time.
He’d retreated to the other side of the massive bed and was half under the sheet, his back resting against the padded headrest. He was sipping a red wine and I could smell the tartness of it from where I sat.
I took another bite of the burger, practically moaning as the patty and its juices filled my mouth, then said, “So tell me how to kill this bakeneko.”
“You need to kill her body.”
“That goes without saying, doesn’t it? I mean, killing a body stops most things.”
He raised his glass in salute of my point. “However, the bakeneko is not most things. She is now a creature of magic, and that magic not only gives her the ability to remold her form, but also provides extreme speed and power. She will not be an easy kill.”
Few bad things were. “Do we need to kill her any specific way?”
“Cutting off her head should work.” He took another sip of wine. “If the spirit is caught in dead flesh, it will leave this world and never return.”
“So the spirit itself is never actually killed?”
He shook his head. “But she cannot inhabit the flesh of another. With her body gone, she must move on.”
Well, at least that was something. I gulped down some coffee, discovering it was as delicious as the rest of the feast. “No souls have been present at the murder scene, and we have a witness who swears he saw the creature sucking at a victim’s mouth. I think she’s ingesting the souls—is that possible?”
“Very possible, especially if her attacks are escalating.” He took a sip of wine, then added, “Every soul she consumes strengthens her, but it also fuels her anger and madness. That’s another reason to be very careful.”
“Do bakenekos live on souls?” I shuddered at the thought.
“‘Live’ is perhaps the wrong word. They don’t need souls to survive, even if it does strengthen them. They simply enjoy the pain and the suffering of ripping a soul from its dying body.”
“So it’s all part of the ultimate vengeance?”
“Yes.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing we’re rounding up the remaining Trollops.” I popped a strawberry in my mouth and munched on it. “I have a list of fourteen names—would that be all of them?”
“I only know of fourteen, so yes, more than likely. I could check the list if you want.”
I smiled at his tone. “You really don’t like them, do you?”
“It would be more accurate to say that I don’t like the dishonesty of what they do.” He contemplated me for a moment, dark eyes suddenly serious. “You know my feelings about werewolves and their sexual beliefs, but at least werewolves are honest about their needs. There are never any lies or half-truths, and that I can admire.”