And he was staring. Also … He tugged at the sheet to hide his rising interest.
“Sorry,” he said, pulling his gaze away.
She smiled. “If I objected to being watched, I’d have put my pants back on.”
So he watched, since that implied permission and perhaps even invitation. She walked to the side of his bed and stood there, smiling as his gaze traveled down her.
“I’m sober,” she said.
“So I see.”
She put one knee on the bed, her shirt riding up enough to show her panties, very simple white cotton trimmed with lace, but small enough that he couldn’t help thinking how they must look from the rear, if she bent over, that lush ass—
The sheet didn’t really help now. He could shift, try to hide it better, but Vanessa had her hands on the bed now, moving slowly onto it, watching him for any sign that she should retreat, and he decided hiding his interest really wasn’t in his best, well, interests.
“Is this okay?” she asked, one foot still on the floor.
He glanced down, directing her gaze. When she saw the obvious tent in the sheets, she grinned, her eyes sparkling with delight and, yes, surprise, as if she somehow figured she could walk over half naked and he’d be yawning, really wishing she’d just let him sleep. If that’s what she expected, she’d clearly been hanging out with men in rather desperate need of a little blue pill.
He moved over, letting her onto the bed. While she was still climbing in, he undid the remaining buttons on her blouse. It fell open. He reached in and cupped her breasts. She let out a soft hiss as his thumbs rubbed across her already-erect nipples. She shrugged off the shirt and damn, she was gorgeous, hair tumbling down over breasts he could barely get his hands around, full and soft.
If it was possible to get any harder, he did, his cock pushing urgently against his briefs now, as he gripped her breasts and pulled her down into a kiss. She kissed him back—hell, how she kissed him back, nothing like last night, hard and rough and hungry, leaving no doubt where this was leading, but … As much as he hated to ask the question, he knew he had to.
“I know you’re sober,” he said. “But are you sure? If you’ve never had a one-night—”
“I shouldn’t start now,” she said. “I know. You’re right.”
Shit. He shouldn’t have asked if she was sure.
But he had to, didn’t he? He exhaled and started easing back. So did she. Instead of crawling off him, though, she only lifted up on all fours, then leaned down to kiss him again, her hard nipples brushing his chest.
“I can’t have sex with you and walk away,” she said as she tugged the sheet down. “Maybe I could have, before we met, but then I got to know you and … one night—or morning—wouldn’t be enough.”
“I—”
“And I know you don’t do more than that,” she said, lowering her mouth to his chest, tongue flicking his nipples, teeth nibbling them before she raised her head. “Or a sequence of nights, equally casual.”
“I—”
“I’m not asking you to say this is different. It’d be a lie, and you don’t play that game.” She hooked the sides of his briefs, pulling them over his hips, his cock jumping free. “You’re a decent guy. Your terms are clear. Casual sex or no sex. Which means, as much as I’m going to regret it, no sex.”
“I—”
“That’s not an ultimatum,” she said, looking up at him. “I wouldn’t crawl naked into your bed and tease you into agreeing to something you don’t want. I’m crawling naked into your bed to say thanks but no thanks, in the most appreciative way I can think of.”
She shifted down, curls and breasts tickling his chest, then his thighs as she moved down over his cock, her lips parting as she lowered them to it.
“You don’t have to—”
She grinned, cutting him short. “Oh, believe me. I want to,” she said, and went down on him.
21. NICK
Vanessa might not have had any experience with one-night stands, but that certainly didn’t mean she was inexperienced. If anything, he mused later, the fact that she was accustomed to long-term relationships seemed to actually have its benefits. You could get away with lazy or inattentive sex on a one-nighter. With a long-term partner, more skill was required … and the time to develop that skill was provided. In short, it was the best blow job he’d had in years, and when she finished, he showed his appreciation by reciprocating, which she certainly seemed to appreciate in return.
Now they were in bed, finishing a room-service breakfast and struggling to keep their attention on planning their next move with Malcolm. Or Nick was struggling. The food had helped as a temporary distraction. He’d been starving, and since Vanessa knew what he was, he didn’t have to hold back. He’d gotten two breakfasts, eaten them both, and she’d only teased about a werewolf’s legendary appetite.
The meal over, they’d started planning, and that’s when the food settled and he noticed Vanessa was wearing the panties and shirt again, the blouse left unbuttoned, modestly hanging almost closed but with enough of a gap to tease whenever she moved. She looked even sexier now, sated and smoky-eyed, lounging in the bed, completely at ease.
“The problem in finding Malcolm”—she said—“is that we can’t in a city this size. We know he’s around, and you suspect he’ll make a move for me—”
“He will.”
“Which leads to problem number two. With that phone scrambled, he’s not going to find us, either.”
She shifted, blouse falling open, revealing a generous curve of breast and—
He pulled his gaze away. Focus. What had she been saying? Right, the phone.
“Should we unscramble it?” he said. Before she could answer, he shook his head. “No, obviously not, or it’ll bring those werewolf hunters running.”
“Also, Malcolm would smell a trap.”
“True.”
She reached for her own phone, blouse stretching open now, one breast showing, nipple erect and—
“We kept the phone so he could call,” Nick said quickly. “Can we call him? I know the number was blocked, but …”
“That’s just what I was checking,” she said, tapping her phone. “I set someone on it last night, reverse-tracing the number. Still nothing, but that’s still our best bet. The trick, again, is how to work it so he doesn’t smell a trap.”
Nick shook his head. “No, the trick is to let him smell a trap, but one as clumsy as he expects from me. One he figures he can easily thwart.”
“Okay, let me grab my notebook. I brainstorm better on paper.”
She climbed from bed and crossed to her bag. When she bent over it, her blouse fell open and rode up to her waist, her ass on full display, those tiny white panties covering just enough to—
Nick took a deep breath and tried to steer his thoughts elsewhere. It didn’t work, probably because he was still looking. She rummaged through the bag, full breasts hanging free, ass moving as she shifted, inviting him to rip off those panties and—
She straightened and turned. “Okay, I—”
Her gaze dropped to his crotch, cock straining against his boxers. A slow grin. “Should I bend over again for you?”
He let out a low growl.
Her grin grew. “That legendary werewolf appetite isn’t just for food, is it?”