Yet instead of fear, raw need rippled under her skin. “So. Can this happen without you turning me into a vampire?” She aimed for amused and sophisticated, but her tone emerged breathless. Needy.
He lifted a shoulder. “I already told you. Vampires are born, not made. No one can ever turn you into a vampire.”
“What about a mate?” The question slipped out before she could bite it back.
“I won’t mate you.” His jaw firmed.
Hurt swirled through her, surprising in its intensity. She’d asked for only the night—but he could’ve wanted more. “So you’re offering a fuck, not a future?”
He stilled. The air thickened. “Talk like that, sweetheart, and I’m offering a spanking.”
She fought a gasp. He’d threatened her. That shouldn’t be sexy. Temper lifted her chin. Intrigue sped up her heart rate. Temper won. “Don’t worry, Max. I’ve changed my mind. You can go mate any eighteen-year-old bimbo you want.” She bit her lip.
“No, I can’t.” The dark amusement in his voice spiraled her temper further.
His gaze dropped to her nipples—her hard, pebbled, needy nipples. He took a step forward, fists clenching. Electric pink shot through the brown when his gaze rose. “Vampires are male only. Many of our mates are human. Enhanced females.”
He took another step closer, visibly making himself stop. “They’re few and far between.”
His voice, so dark, so sexy, warmed her blood. Her chest rose with quick breaths. She tried to control the breathing, but an awakening in her abdomen took over. She hadn’t felt anything for either Jase or Conn, and they were vampires. Only Max. That had to mean something. “So I’m a potential mate? One of the few?”
“Yes.”
Confusion slowed the thoughts in her head. “Even so, I’m not for you.” Geez. It wasn’t like she’d offered the guy forever.
“No.” He tucked his hands in his back pockets. “I’m not taking a mate, sweetheart.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ah, I get it. Your job is too dangerous. . . you’re a lone wolf ... you don’t deserve love.” Throwing out all the lame reasons from a romance novel she’d read lately, she let sarcasm loose.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Remember that spanking? My palm is beginning to itch.”
Vulnerability warred with need. She twisted, placing her feet on the floor, scrunching her toes into the carpet. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Then you’re not as smart as I thought.” He toed off his boots. “In response to what you said”—he held up his forefinger—“first, my job is dangerous, but I’d protect you.” He raised another finger. “Second, I’m nowhere near a wolf—lone or otherwise. Believe me, I know a couple. And finally”—he held up three fingers—“love is something I’ve never understood.”
He was matter-of-fact about the last part. How sad.
“So that’s why you don’t want a mate?”
“No.” He tugged his shirt over his head. “Our mates are in danger—much more than usual. The virus we’re trying to cure might destroy them.”
She kept her focus on his rugged face, not on the devastating breadth of his chest. “Is mating forever?”
“Yes. When a vampire mates a female, her chromosomal pairs increase to twenty-eight, making her nearly immortal. She can die by beheading, just like vampires.” His hands went to the buttons on his jeans. “The virus negates the mating bond, unraveling chromosomal pairs. We’re not sure if it will stop at making them human or keep going until they’re, well, nothing.”
Why was he taking off his clothes? She slid off the bed to stand and face him. “I didn’t ask to be your mate.”
“Yeah, Milaya, I know.” The buttons of his jeans popped free. “But you feel this—thing between us—as much as I do. Something here.” He touched his fingers to his chest and kicked out of his pants, leaving naked male. Aroused naked male. A very well-endowed male. “Just thought you should know everything. Most vampires mate with a bite to the neck during sex. I won’t bite ... your neck. Now take off your clothes.”
Heat rushed into Sarah’s face. Her panties dampened. Sexy. The man was too sexy to be real. “What does that mean? Milaya?”
“My pretty one. In Russian.” One eyebrow rose. “The term fits you. Now strip.”
Warmth flushed through her. The term fit her? She’d asked for this—and damn if she didn’t want him. With a huff, she yanked her shirt over her head.
“Very nice. Your nipples look like candy.” He moved to her, pressing her to the wall with his muscular body. Hard and full, his cock pressed against her with masculine demand.
Cool and casual, she forced a smile. “Thanks.” She reached for the clasp of her jeans.
“Let me.” Rough and calloused, his hands covered hers.
“I can do it.” Control—she needed to keep some.
“Ah, sweetheart”—he pressed both palms into her shoulders, caressing down her biceps, past her elbows, to clasp her wrists—“you might want to be careful how you play.”
The low tone found a direct line to her clit. Hot, moist, reacting just to him. She clenched her thighs together to keep from rubbing against him. “I’m not playing.”
“Neither am I.” His gentle grip tightened and he lifted both wrists above her head, securing them in one large hand. “There now.”
The stretch arched her back, scraping her nipples against his warm skin.
Pure pleasure zapped from her breasts to her core. Lights flared behind her eyelids. “Max.” She aimed for demand, though it sounded more like a plea. She was beyond caring.
A low rumble came from his chest. “You say my name like that, sweetheart, I might come right now.” Cool air washed over her as he eased back just enough to place a palm against her upper chest, tapered fingers spread out. “The first time I saw you, when you tried to kick me, I imagined this. You, so sexy, wet for me.”
His fingers slid between her breasts and down to her waist to unclasp her jeans. Sliding his hand around, he plunged it inside her jeans and cupped her butt. “When I saw this sweet ass wiggling out of that window, I hoped I’d get the chance to sink my teeth right here.” He ran a finger along the crease where her buttock met her thigh.
A whimper escaped her. So much sensation—heat and need rose up so hard, so fast—her breath caught. As she tried to focus, tried to gain some control, her jeans and panties hit the floor.
He released her wrists.
The strongest man she’d ever met dropped to one knee. She protested, shifting sideways, only to have one broad hand clasp her thigh to hold her in place. “Max—”
His mouth found her. A low hum of male appreciation echoed against her clit. Oh God. Her head knocked against the smooth wallpaper. His index finger caressed her folds, sliding inside, gentle and sure. His tongue flicked out to play.
Tremors shook her knees. Lines of lightning blasted behind her lids. Pleasure, so demanding, so consuming, filled her until all she could do was feel. She pressed her palms to the wall, trying to stay upright.
A second finger joined the first and fucked her with slow, sure strokes. Helpless, she gyrated against him.
With a hungry growl, his lips enclosed her clit, and sucked.
The world exploded.
She cried out. Her eyes opened to the room sheeting white. Waves cascaded through her, and she sobbed his name. He gentled her, waiting until she calmed before standing.
Rough, his hand tangled in her hair and he took her mouth. Hard as granite, he pressed against her—towered over her. With her height, she met most men eye-to-eye. Not Max. Surrounded by him, she felt small, feminine. Like she’d imagined those perky cheerleaders had felt in high school. Deep down, she sighed.
He ate at her mouth, devouring her with incredible heat. His tongue claimed, his lips possessed. Her arms rose and encircled him, both hands spreading across his muscular back.