"I thought you said that-"
"I feed off females. But no one has ever fed off me."
"Why?" As his mouth closed up tight, she shrugged. "You might as well tell me. I'm not going to remember anything, right? So what will it cost you to talk?"
As silence stretched, she lost her nerve with his pelvic region and decided to try to work her way up from his feet. Down at the end of the bed, she ran the cloth up his soles then over his toes and he jumped a little like he was ticklish. She moved on to his ankles.
"My father didn't want me to reproduce," the patient said abruptly.
Her eyes shot to his. "What?"
He held up the hand that was gloved, then tapped the temple that had the tattoos around it. "I'm not right. You know, normal. So my father tried to have me fixed like a dog. Of course, there was also the happy correlation of it being one hell of a punishment." As her breath left her on a compassionate sigh, he pointed his forefinger at her. "You show me any pity and I'm going to think twice about the no-bite vow I just gave you."
"No pity. I promise," she lied softly. "But what does that have to do with you drinking from-"
"Just don't like to share."
Himself, she thought. With anyone… except maybe Red Sox.
She gently eased the cloth up his shin. "What were you punished for?"
"Can I call you Jane?"
"Yes." She redipped the cloth and eased it under his calf. As he went silent again, she let him have his privacy. For now.
Under her hand, his knee flexed, the thigh above it contracting and releasing in a sensual flow. Her eyes flicked over his erection and she swallowed hard.
"So do your reproductive systems work the same as ours?" she asked.
"Pretty much."
"Have you had human lovers?"
"I'm not into humans."
She smiled awkwardly. "I won't ask you who you're thinking of now, then."
"Good. I don't think you'd feel comfortable with the answer."
She thought of the way he looked at Red Sox. "Are you gay?"
His eyes narrowed. "Why do you ask?"
"You seem rather attached to your friend, the guy in the baseball hat."
"You knew him, didn't you. From before, true?"
"Yeah, he looks familiar, but I can't quite place him."
"Would that bother you?"
She ran the towel up his thigh to the cut juncture of his hips, then skirted away. "You being gay? Not at all."
"Because it would make you feel safer, right?"
"And because I'm open-minded. As a physician, I have a pretty good grip on how no matter our preferences, we're all alike on the inside."
Well, the humans at least. She sat down on the bedside and pushed her hand up his leg again. As she got closer to his arousal, his breath caught and the hard length twitched. While his hips swiveled she looked up. He'd bitten down on his lower lip, his fangs cutting into the soft flesh.
Okay, that was really…
None of her business. But, man, he must be running a really hot fantasy about Red Sox right now.
Telling herself this was just a garden-variety sponge-bath situation, and not believing the lie for an instant, she drew her hand over his abdomen, up past the swollen head of him, and down the other side. As the very edge of the washcloth brushed up against his sex, he hissed.
So help her, God, she did it again, going slowly up and around him and letting the erection get stroked just a little.
His hands tightened on the sheets, and in a low rasp he said, "If you keep this up, you're going to find out just how much I have in common with a human man."
Good Christ, she wanted to see him-No, she didn't.
Yes, she did.
His voice dropped deeper. "Do you want me to orgasm?"
She cleared her throat. "Of course not. That would be-"
"Inappropriate? Who's going to know? Just you and me in here. And frankly, I could use some pleasure right about now."
She closed her eyes. She knew on his side none of this was about her. Plus it wasn't as if she was going to jump on the bed and take advantage of him. But did she really want to know how good he looked as he-
"Jane? Look at me." As if he controlled her eyes, they rose slowly to meet his. "Not my face, Jane. You're going to watch my hand. Now."
She complied, because it didn't occur to her not to. And as soon as she did, his gloved palm released its death grip on the bedcovers and fisted his thick arousal. In a rush, the patient's breath left him, and he ran his hand up and down his shaft, the black leather a stark contrast to the deep pink of his sex.
Oh… my… God.
"You want to do this to me, don't you?" he said roughly. "Not because you want me. But because you wonder what it feels like and what I look like when I come."
As he kept up with the stroking, she numbed out completely.
"Don't you, Jane." His breathing started to quicken. "You want to know what I feel like. What kind of noises I make. What it smells like."
She wasn't nodding her head, was she? Shit. She was.
"Give me your hand, Jane, Let me put you on me. Even if you're only clinically curious, I want you to finish me off."
"I thought… I thought you don't like humans."
"I don't."
"So what do you think I am?"
"I want your hand, Jane. Now."
She didn't like being told what to do by anyone. Men, women, didn't matter. But when a husky command like that came out of a magnificent male animal like him… especially as he was lying sprawled before for her, fully aroused… it was pretty damn close to undeniable.
She'd resent the order later. But she would follow it now.
Jane put the washcloth in the bedpan and couldn't believe she extended her hand toward him. He took what she offered, took what he'd demanded she give to him, and pulled it forward to his mouth. In a slow, savoring draw, he licked up the center of her palm, his tongue a warm, wet drag. Then he took her flesh and put it to his erection.
They both gasped. He was rock hard and hot as flame and wider than her wrist. As he kicked in her grip, half of her wondered what the hell she was doing and the other half, the sexual part, came alive. Which made her panic. She clamped down on the feelings, using the displacement honed by years of being in medicine… and kept her hand right where it was.
She stroked him, feeling the soft, fine skin move over the stiff core. His mouth broke open as he undulated on the bed, and the arching of his body took her eyes on one hell of a ride. Shit... He was pure sex, totally undiluted by inhibitions or awkwardness, nothing but a gathering storm of orgasm.
She looked down at where she was working him. His gloved hand was so damned erotic as it lay right below where she handled him, the fingers lightly touching his base and covering the ridges of scar tissue.
"What do I feel like, Jane?" he said hoarsely. "Do I feel different than a man does to you?"
Yes. Better. "No. You're just the same." Her eyes went to his fangs as they cut into his full lower lip. The teeth looked as if they'd lengthened, and she had a feeling sex and feeding were linked. "Well, you don't look like them, of course."
Something flickered across his face, some kind of shadow, and his hand slipped farther down between his legs. At first she assumed he was rubbing what hung below, but then she realized he was shielding himself from her eyes.
A lick of pain went off in her chest like a match strike, but then he moaned low in his throat and his head kicked back, his blue-black hair feathering over the black pillow. As his hips flexed upward, his stomach muscles tightened in a sequential rush, the tattoos at his groin stretching and returning to position.
"Faster, Jane. You're going to do it faster for me now."