What was even more amazing was how comfortable he seemed to be now, draped over her, completely relaxed. After sex, after intense sex, particularly, some men couldn’t wait to get out of bed and get on their way. Of course she was in his bed—there was that—but clearly he wanted her to stay. He was on top of her, and showed no signs of moving. Her left hand was still intertwined with his.
And best of all, he hadn’t noticed her swollen ankles.
As she was thinking these things, Gregor returned to the land of the living. He turned her over for a kiss. Though Maddy would have sworn she didn’t even have the strength to pucker, she found herself molding her body to his, smoothing her palms up his strong back, egging him on, and falling far, far down into a kiss without bottom.
When they came up for air, she gasped, “Damn! I love doing that. Who taught you to kiss, Faustin?”
“You did.” He ran a finger over her lips, his blue eyes soft and searching. “I can’t remember kissing anyone else.”
Shit. Now her heart really was going to fail. Three million alarm bells went off in her head. Sweet talk was dangerous. Feelings were dangerous. Time to back up—back up very slowly and change direction.
“So, you box?” Oh, that’s smooth, Maddy.
Gregor blinked at her in surprise. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re built like a fighter.” She ran her hand over his muscular shoulder. He had a lot of power in his upper body, and she didn’t think it came from hanging around a nightclub. “I see it in your stance too. And then there’s your nose.”
He caught her hand before she touched his nose. “I’ll have you know only one break happened in the ring. What do you know about boxing?”
“What don’t I know? I come from a family of boxers. My dad and his brother boxed in their day, and my cousin is Angel Escobar.
Gregor lit up like a Christmas tree. “The Avenger? I saw him take down Miguel Santos. Best fight I’ve ever seen. You’re his cousin?”
“Yep.” Vague, peripheral fame—always such a rush. “All us cousins used to spar on my grandma’s bed.”
“You know, this explains a lot about your temperament.”
Maddy tried to jerk her hand out of his, but Gregor held it firm. He settled onto his back to examine her fingers one by one. “So the violence doesn’t bother you?”
“I love being ringside, close enough to taste the sweat,” she said, then bit her tongue. The correct answer had been Oh, it’s disgusting. I much prefer the ballet.
Gregor heaved a big sigh. “A boxing fan. And I thought I was in love after the blowjob.”
Maddy blushed. “Fuck you, Faustin.”
He was joking, wasn’t he?
Gregor just laughed. “Are you thirsty?”
It was an unnecessary question, Maddy thought, seeing as they’d both just dropped ten pounds of water weight in sweat, drool and come.
“What would you like?”
“Just water.”
He slipped into his pants—a crying shame, a loss to all womankind. “I’ve got to go to the bar no matter what—I don’t even have a glass in here. Sure you don’t want something else?”
Maddy shook her head. “Just a lot of water.”
“Be right back, then. There’s a bathroom over there.” He nodded at a discreet gray door between the two rooms and walked away, pulling on his shirt.
Gregor looked a little dazed to her. Of course, she was dazed herself, so was not the best judge, maybe, but he wasn’t stamping around in that impatient way of his. She crawled to the end of the bed and watched him sort of weave his way to the outer door. When he opened it, a wave of noise and light hit her for an instant, and then he was gone.
Curious as to how the club looked now that it was in full swing, she put on her coat (it just barely covered her important parts) and went to peek out the door.
Even though she expected it, the change was still surprising. Now the club was packed, body to body, and the air was hot and moist and full of the smell of alcohol and fog and perfume. The music was deafening, relentless, and, she had to admit, decidedly sensual. The bass vibrated straight up her thighs, and she clutched the doorjamb, remembering how Gregor had thrust into her with the same rhythm.
From her hiding place she could make out the far edges of the dance floor. It lay in a deep pit, packed with writhing bodies like one of the seven circles of hell. The crowded bar was just to her left. The people waiting there either used gestures to speak, or shouted directly into one another’s ears. Gregor was behind the bar, bending over to speak to the bartender. She wished the bartender was an old guy named Micky, but instead the bartender was a gorgeous Asian girl barely old enough to drink herself. She was also obviously crushing on Gregor. But Maddy couldn’t blame her, especially that moment. His smile was easy, his hair tousled and he had only managed to button one of his shirt buttons and it was the wrong one at that. No man could possibly be sexier.
To his credit he did not seem to notice his bartender’s admiring eyes or svelte hips, he just looked loopy.
Ha.
Maddy let the door close. He walked in a minute later with a tray balanced on one hand. The first thing he did was shake his head at her pea coat.
“Well, what do you want me to wear?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Failing that, leather.”
“Leather.” She snorted. She’d look like an ottoman.
He studied her appraisingly. “A leather waist cincher and a collar. Nothing more. Except heels, of course.”
“You are depraved, Faustin, but we already knew that, didn’t we? Is that my water?”
They settled down on the leather sofa. A collar? Did he mean a decorator collar, or a functioning collar? Or did he just say that to get her riled up? His face gave nothing away.
The tray held a tall glass of ice water, a mug of hot water, a salt shaker and a strange assortment of bar garnishes: one highball glass holding skewered olives, another glass full of maraschino cherries, a third containing orange slices and the last full of bar nuts.
“Do you eat any of these things?” He gestured at the selection.
Maddy cocked her head at the question. Was this a test? “Well, yes.”
“Good.” He gave her a relieved grin. “I thought you might be hungry.”
Oh my God, he was trying to feed her. Faustin was adorable! How had this happened? Did anyone else know how cute he was?
“Thank you.” She worked to keep a straight face. To prove her sincerity, she ate an orange slice. “Do you ever eat any of these things?”
His eyes widened, as if she’d asked if he ate roaches. “No. Nothing solid.”
“Do you drink anything beside blood?”
“There’s nothing else I need, but I like coffee in the morning, and there’s booze, of course. Nothing else sits well. But Alex—he’s my little brother—he eats much more of your food.” Gregor dropped his voice as if letting her in on a big secret. “He owns a blender.”
Dark secrets of the Lords of Night. “And so…?”
“He makes fruit smoothies.”
Gregor’s lips went thin as he considered this blow against the dignity of vampires everywhere. Maddy clapped her hands together. She liked this Alex character. “Why does he do that?”
“Because he’s a nut.” For all his disapproval, Gregor sounded pretty fond of his brother. “I think he’s going native. You’ll see what I mean when you meet him.”
And when might that be? Maddy squirmed a little in her seat, but then got distracted when Gregor began to shake salt into his hot water.
“What’s that?”
“This is what you call bare maintenance.” With a rueful smile he added half a packet of sugar to his salt water.
“A blood substitute?”
Gregor made a noise that sounded like “Phhhttt” and buried his face in the mug. Okay, she understood. She spoke a little grumpy vampire now. It was a pathetic substitute for blood, and if he’d had his way, his belly would be full of her blood this moment.