“Got to take care of my skin,” Liam said, totally straight-faced. Sophie almost laughed; Liam looked like a farmer, which was to say he was deeply tanned, with wrinkles around his eyes and hands like leather blocks. He was the SPF association’s nightmare.
“Oh, really,” Sophie said, rolling her eyes a minute later when they were in the elevator.
“Well, didn’t think it was too good to tell him the truth.”
“Hotel employees have heard it all. He likely wouldn’t have batted an eye.”
Liam grunted and glanced down at the key card, which looked almost tiny in his large, capable hand. “We’ll draw the drapes, should do the trick, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Or you can sleep with your whole self under the covers.”
She almost laughed at the mental image of her deeply unconscious self swaddled in covers deep in the middle of a king-sized hotel bed. “I think closing the curtains will be fine.” She followed him out of the elevator and down the hall. “But you don’t…ah…I needn’t…I don’t have to sleep in the bed. With you.”
He looked over his shoulder at her, surprised. “Well, where the hell you supposed to sleep? The tub?”
“I was only suggesting—you’ve been so kind—I do not wish to make you ill at ease.”
“The clams we had will do that all by themselves.”
She couldn’t resist a small scold. “Well, Liam, it was a restaurant that specialized in chicken. What were you thinking?”
“That I like clams,” he said cheerfully, opening their door. “Tough to get in northern Minnesota.”
“There’s a reason,” she retorted, sidling past him. It was a standard hotel room, clean but not exceptional. She eyed the king-sized bed a little nervously…it had been a long, long time. “Do you wish to have something else? Shall I call room service?”
“Naw, naw. Listen, Sophie…” He sat down on the end of the bed and pulled his boots off, sighing and wiggling his toes in clean white socks. “How come you paid for the room? I mean, why didn’t you use your, I dunno, your evil vampire powers and just hypnotize him or whatever?”
“But why? I have money.” In fact, quite a bit of it, courtesy of her late great-great-grandfather. Sophie had been lucky enough to sell the vineyard before the blight that took more than half the grapes. But that was a long time ago. She forced herself back to the present, to Liam and the hotel room. “And why get the clerk in trouble? He would have to explain why he let someone stay for free. I don’t mind paying.”
“Oh. Uh-huh. Well, not that I’m sayin’ you should have done it, I was just curious. If I could zap people like you do, I probably wouldn’t pay for a damn thing.” He paused for a minute, then chuckled. “And I love the way you talk. ‘Why get zee clerk in trouble.’ Heh. Didja know, when you get nervous, you don’t use contractions?”
“Thank you. I did not know that.” She cleared her throat, a harsh bark; she never had enough saliva to pull it off. “Ah. I need to go out for a bit. But if you change your mind about room service, please feel free to order whatever you wish. I should return shortly.”
“Whoa, whoa.” Quick as a flash, he was off the bed and gently grasping her wrist. “Where you off to? What’s the matter?”
“I…uh…I need to…well, you’ve had your meal, and now I must—”
“Oh. Right!” He was silent for a moment, and she started prying his fingers off her arm, careful not to hurt him. She’d been doing this too long to be embarrassed, nor did she want to have a long discussion about it. She was what she was and there was no use talking about it. “Well, shoot, I’m right here. Why not me?”
She stopped in mid-pry, shocked. “Really? You’d do that? But…why in the world?”
“You’re a good girl, Sophie,” he said gruffly. “I’m not worried. And I don’t think you should be wandering around Minneapolis by your lonesome.”
“Liam…I don’t want to hurt your feelings, because I’m incredibly flattered. You have no idea what a gift you’ve offered me—”
“I guess I do,” he corrected her. “It’s my blood, y’know.”
She nodded and continued. “But I just don’t think it’s appropriate…. We live in the same town, but we don’t really know each other. And you’ll feel…when…if…I feed on you, it will be very…sexual. And I would never want to push you…in that way. My friend Ed—”
“—was a lucky man, that’s what I think.” He took her in his arms, carefully, as if she might crack like a china dish. “And the only way you could hurt me is if you sent me away and picked some stranger.” Then he kissed her.
She clung to his shoulders and opened her mouth for him, glorying in the feel of his arms around her, his tongue exploring her. He smelled wonderful, like cotton sheets just out of the dryer (with a faint clam underhint). His hands moved restlessly over her back and she pulled his T-shirt up and stroked his hard stomach.
“As for the sex part…shoot, I’ve wanted you for years. I wanted you before I even knew what wanting really was.”
She nearly swooned onto the bed…he was just darling! He looked like a hard-working eighteenth-century farmer, and he had the soul of a Renaissance poet. “It’s been a long time,” she whispered, marveling at the feel of his smooth skin. She had to be almost twice his age, though she didn’t look it. Did he mind?
Did she?
“Yeah, I figure…Ed’s been gone awhile…”
“Not with Ed. Ed and I were friends, nothing more.” She smiled shakily. “We shared blood and friendship and that’s all. It’s been a long time.”
“Well, I hear you on that one.” He had pulled her cardigan off, unzipped the back of her simple summer dress, then stepped back as her clothes fell to the floor. “Oh, cripes, Sophie. I thought about this a million times, and you’re about a zillion times prettier than I could have ever thought up on my own.”
She reached behind and unsnapped her bra (even the undead liked support), and her small breasts bounced free. He sucked in a breath and then bent to her, kissing her neck and her cleavage, his tongue darting out to caress a nipple.
“A long time,” she repeated, and ripped his shirt over his head so hard she almost threw him to the floor. “Oh! I beg your pardon.”
He laughed and tackled her, bringing her to the bed, and they wrestled for a moment, their clothes the casualties.
She crept down the length of his sweetly muscled body, inhaling his musk, stroked his throbbing length for a moment and, when he groaned beneath her busy fingers, carefully sucked him into her mouth.
His hands fisted in her hair, tumbling it loose from the clips, and she pulled him into her throat with no trouble at all, pleasantly surprised to find that sex really was like riding a bicycle. But her growing hunger could not be denied much longer—any longer—so finally she pulled back, licked his thigh, then sank her fangs into his femoral artery. Salty sweetness flooded her mouth and she nearly rolled to the floor with the goodness of it, the rightness of it.
He groaned again, his hands still restless in her hair, and she fed, immediately contented. She could feel his penis, hot against her cheek, almost jerking as she took her pleasure from him, as he took pleasure in return.
Once she had enough—it never took much, thank goodness the movies were wrong about that, among other things—she could politely return to the festivities, so she sat up and straddled him.
“Oh, Jesus,” he said, and she flinched. “Oh, shit!”
She laughed.
“Don’t worry about it.” He reached up and cupped her breasts in his hands. Sophie wriggled with delight as Liam stroked her dark nipples with his thumbs. She positioned herself more carefully and between one moment and the next, he was sliding inside her, filling her as she had wanted to be filled for too many years. His eyes, that vivid blue she had always admired, slipped closed.
Liam groaned again and shifted his hands to her hips, helping her find a rhythm they both liked. She bent forward and bit him at the neck; she couldn’t help it. He shivered and moved against her faster and she met his thrusts with her own urgency. Oh, glory, it was wonderful to be with someone again, to have that connection, to feed, to be fucked. Liam was giving her everything she had longed for, all at once. It was almost too much; for a moment she was nearly delirious with happiness. Then she realized she had mistaken her orgasm for delirium.