Page 73 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

He shuddered at her words and touch, his arms tightening around her almost painfully, then relaxing just as quickly.

Not long after, he touched down on the roof of his house, setting her on her feet. Yet no sooner had she straightened than he cupped her face in his hands, fingers splayed across the sides of her neck. His eyes were fierce with intensity, and then his lips found hers.

Cally pressed into him with a moan, opening to his kiss as their tongues tangled together, her hood falling back.

The rain splashed on her upturned face, and her body was so alive that every drop felt like another kiss.

One hand slipped beneath his T-shirt, playing across his skin, while the other tugged him closer by threading through his hair.

It was he who broke the kiss, drawing back to look at her. His hands were gentle as they lingered on her. “You will undo me, ma chérie. ”

“I hope not, just from a single kiss.”

His lips curled at the corners. “It will take little more than that.”

His hands slid away from her, brushing lightly against the sides of her neck as he strode past with urgency in his steps. He punched the code into the skylight’s keypad, as though the necessity offended him.

Antoine held his hand out as the skylight slid open. “Come.”

She took his hand, letting him draw her down into the warmth of the house below, the skylight sealing out the rain behind them.

He led her down the staircase to the floor where the bedrooms were. Not to the room she’d previously occupied, but into his. He guided her past him, into the center of the space. Then, as he quietly closed the door behind her, his movements became stiff and awkward.

He was still facing the door when he spoke.

“I would like…” he began, then stopped himself, taking a breath.

He turned to her, taking a single pace closer.

His eyes flashed from pale blue to red and back again.

Then he shoved his hands into the pockets of his wet jeans, as though he couldn’t trust himself not to touch her, and stared down at the floor between them.

“I want you to know you can leave whenever you wish. The room opposite is yours, and if you wish it, I will never enter. Just because we are bonded—”

“I like this room,” Cally said quietly.

“There is no pressure,” he went on, as though she hadn’t spoken. “This has to be your choice. You must be sure you want—”

“What I want,” she said, taking a step toward him, “is this off.” Her fingers hooked through the rips in his sodden T-shirt, and she pulled.

She underestimated her increased strength, and the wet material ripped, baring his chest beneath.

He didn’t move, though she knew he could stop her if he wanted to.

“I want this,” she said, trailing her fingertips down over his chest, over his heart.

There wasn’t even a mark where he’d been shot. “I want you .”

“Are you sure?” His voice was hoarse, his eyes meeting hers with tentative disbelief, as though he couldn’t quite believe she’d ever say such a thing.

She turned away, swaying her hips as she moved. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said, pulling her drenched hoodie over her head, letting it fall from her hands to the floor. “And so are you.”

He made a noise behind her, a sharp intake of breath that was half pained, half needy, and so satisfying. She reached for the hem of her T-shirt, but his hands closed on hers from behind, his bare skin brushing against her back.

“Allow me, please, ma chérie .”

She turned within the circle of his arms, running both her hands up over his chest to his strong shoulders, and let him tug her T-shirt free of her jeans.

He captured her gaze, his eyes not pale blue or red, but a mesmerizing lilac that made her catch her breath.

She lifted her arms, and he slid it up leisurely, his fingers brushing her sides, a light caress that left a tingle of sensation against her skin.

His palms grazed the sides of her breasts through her bra, and she closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the sensation.

He pulled the T-shirt over her head, but then gathered it tight around her wrists with one hand. His other brushed her cheek. She could’ve easily escaped, and he knew it too, but it wasn’t the game. Even if it was just symbolic, he wanted her held—ever the hunter, and she, his prey.

She wasn’t his prey, not anymore. But there was something about the way he captured her, something that reminded her he wouldn’t be intimidated by her strength, her speed, or her independence.

Instead, he accepted them—accepted her. More than accepted—he reveled in it.

So, she kept her eyes closed, struggling against his hold with a playful little whimper, until his lips found hers.

Only then did he release her, letting her pull her arms free and throw the T-shirt aside, her arms wrapping around his neck.

Antoine unhooked her bra with a light touch she barely felt, the garment falling loose. He trailed his fingertips over her shoulders, down her arms, pulling the straps away and exposing her to his eyes.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low. Then, dropping to one knee, he reached for the button of her jeans.

“No,” she said, backing away, one arm coyly covering her chest. “Not until we’re clean. You smell of blood and I smell of… worse things.”

He gazed up at her, his eyes shifting again, now a deep mix of colors. “You smell delightful, ma chérie, and I will not be content until your scent is all over me.”

Cally paused in her retreat, a smile tugging at her lips. “That’s almost obscene.”

“There is no ‘almost’ to what I have in mind.”

She kicked off her boots and flicked open the button of her jeans. “Take those off,” she said, nodding at him. “I want to see you. All of you. And not with that thing you do with your eyes, but the way you’re supposed to be.”

He rose to his feet. “This thing I do with my eyes—and my skin too, for that matter—this is how I looked before .”

Before he became a vampire, she knew he meant.

“Then wear whichever feels most true,” she said. “But I want to look on both versions of you by the time this night is done.”

Together, they stripped off the rest of their clothing, their eyes locked on each other.

Her breath caught as she saw his desire, apparent in the hard length of him.

She turned away, knowing that if she didn’t, they’d never make it to the shower.

Her scent was so important to him that she wanted to be clean for him as much as she wanted the blood off his skin.

She padded naked into his bathroom, unsurprised to find a luxurious walk-in shower in a house like this.

Before she could figure out which knob and lever did what, he was with her, reaching past her for the controls.

His bare skin brushed hers, always so warm, then the shower came alive, dousing them both with water so cold it took her breath away.

“You bastard,” she gasped, pressing against him to get away from the spray, which was warming with every passing second.

He chuckled, wrapping her in his arms, one hand splaying down across the curve of her ass. “As much for my control as for my sadistic amusement, ma chérie. O therwise, I did not trust myself not to take you here, in the shower.”

They washed one another, teasing and toying with light touches and slow caresses, exploring every curve and line, soapy hands gliding over slick skin with little resistance, prolonging the anticipation of what was to come.

When he reached for the shampoo and worked it into his hair, she pressed up against him and let her touch roam.

“That is distracting, ma chérie. ”

“So sorry.” She lowered her mouth to his nipple, flicking it with her tongue.

He shuddered against her. “My turn will come,” he said, his voice husky.

He rinsed off, and she thought they were done, but he turned her to face the wall, placing her hands against the tiles in silent command. He squirted more shampoo into his palm and kneaded it into her hair, standing so close that his arousal rubbed against her ass as he worked.

She lost herself in the sensuous experience of having her hair washed, arching her body to press her hips back against him. He gave a small grunt, almost pained—and that was nice, too.

His touch was wonderful, and next time she would relax and embrace every bit of it, but not now. She wanted more.

“Go faster, please.”

“Some things cannot be rushed.”

“Rush this, you bastard, or take me to bed with soap in my hair.”

He made a deep, possessive sound that caused her body to tighten in response.

But it was several minutes before he had finished carefully rinsing the suds out, his touch surprisingly gentle. By then, her body ached with need.

Antoine inhaled deeply and made a satisfied sound. “Now you smell like you, ma chérie. ”

His words sent heat to her cheeks, a reminder that he could scent her arousal. After so many little touches, she was more than ready for him.

She spun away with a playful sway of her hips, eyeing the towels as she passed the railing.

They looked soft, luxurious and warm, but they weren’t what she wanted wrapped around her.

She paused at the threshold to his bedroom, turning to look over her shoulder.

He stood tall and gloriously nude, water droplets clinging to his pale skin, heat in his gaze.

Cally beckoned with one finger.