Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
CHAPTER SIX
He’s going to kiss me? The man won’t tell me his name, but he’s going to jump right to kissing?
Okay, I’m not going to argue.
But he doesn’t come for my lips. Fangs still bared—and they’re not the plastic toy kind; he’s so close I can see they’re as solid and shiny white as his other teeth—he bypasses my mouth, brushes my hair aside, and presses his lips to my neck.
Luckily, his hand is still holding my waist, because my body goes limp, eager to submit to him. I’m ready to be his willing victim, right here in the middle of the crowd.
When he lifts his head, the vampire walks me backward to the nearest wall, and holds me against it with the weight of his body. The elaborate buckles that decorate his costume pants press into me, and my body registers a shimmer of pain, but I don’t care.
He can cut my flesh with those sharp teeth of his, and I won’t mind a bit.
My eyes are on his lips as he raises his arm, bringing one side of his cape up to shield us from view. I was already in my own little world with him, but the effect is intensified as his lips finally brush against mine. There’s the slightest amount of contact and the barest hint of pressure, but the effect is nearly overwhelming.
I’m breathless and dizzy as his mouth ignites a path back down to my neck. Meanwhile, his finger traces the bare skin above the neckline of my dress before dipping between the laces that hold the front together.
When he lays his palm flat against my chest, I mindlessly state the obvious. “You have my heart pounding.”
He must have known the effect he’s having on me, but my words seem to give him pause. He appears to be considering his next move, and even though I’ve just met this man—if you can even call this meeting him, when I don’t even know his name—I realize I’m up for anything with him.
Anything.
He bites his lip, one of his fangs jutting down.
His dark eyes are intense, but he shakes his head, as if warring with his own thoughts. Maybe there are rules about how far these dancers can take things, and he’s afraid to cross a line.
My body wants him to cross all the lines.
He takes my hand and leads me over to the bar. It’s crowded, but he nudges an opening for himself, and keeps hold of my hand as I stand behind him.
It’s loud all around me—the music, the voices, screams from women nearby as a couple of men in police uniforms dance at the other end of the bar—and my head is humming both from the noise and from the blood frantically pulsing through my veins.
When the vampire turns back to me, he holds out a small bottle of water, and for a moment, I just blink at it, surprised he’s not giving me an alcoholic drink. It is a party, after all. Maybe he’s trying to cool down the heat between us, but it doesn’t appear that he got anything for himself.
Still holding my hand, he leads me to a less crowded corner of the room, where I take a drink of the water, grateful that it’s icy cold, hoping it will bring me to my senses, though I’m not really sure I want that.
Even though I’d never kissed someone before without knowing their name, and I’ve never even had a one-night stand, I think it’s okay to be a little wild sometimes. Besides, I came here to have fun, and I know this man can show me a good time, even if it’s just for tonight.
When I look up, I find that he’s been watching me drink, his eyes focused somewhere near my throat, like the bloodthirsty predator that he’s made up to be.
He steps closer, running a finger down my arm and then across the velvet of my dress, just below my chest, where he toys with the laces again.
His actions are intimate but restrained, making me wonder if he’s brought me to this corner to talk or to make out.
Before I have the chance to find out, an announcement cuts into the music, calling the dancers back to the stage.
My vampire looks torn, clearly reluctant to leave.
When he turns and sees all of the other men making their way toward the front of the room, his chest heaves in a sigh I can see rather than hear.
His eyes lock on mine again, and he squeezes the side of my hip in his palm, a gesture that feels both like he’s claiming me and wordlessly telling me to stay where I am, that he’ll be back. He turns and strides away, his cape lifting behind him. I take another drink of water and watch him go.