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“I’m afraid that I sadly neglected your luscious ass last time. I intend to correct that now.”
“All right,” she whispered as he flipped her over.
A very long time later, when she was still sticky and shaking and smiling, he bent down to kiss her shoulder.
“I’m going downstairs to forage for food, assuming our mysterious intruder hasn’t destroyed anything else. Just rest until I return.”
She mumbled an assent, but despite the satisfaction filling her body, her mind refused to settle. She climbed out of bed and washed quickly in the large, luxurious, and yes, dark bathroom before wrapping one of his shirts around her and wandering out into the living room. A big chair was placed in front of thefireplace, a stack of books and newspapers on the floor next to it. She picked up one of the papers and started to read through it, amused to realize that Flora’s name was mentioned several times.
When she went to return it, one of the papers in the bundle fluttered in the draft—except there was no draft. She cautiously pulled it free but it didn’t seem any different than the other one she’d read. She flicked through it curiously, pausing when she saw a picture of the bungalow.
“Didn’t I tell you to remain in bed?” Damian asked when he returned with a heavily laden tray.
“I was restless, but listen. Do you know anything about this house?”
“Not really. It was abandoned for years before I bought it.”
“You didn’t wonder why it was abandoned?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I was more concerned with whether or not the roof was intact—which it was. It’s a very well-built house.”
She waved the newspaper at him.
“It was abandoned because it was the scene of a murder!”
“Ah, you found it. I saw something about the house in one of the papers, but then I couldn’t find it again.”
“Did you hear me? A murder. In this house!”
He put the tray down on the coffee table, then scooped her up before sitting down again with her on his lap.
“It happens, kitten, especially in older houses. Houses have history.”
“And this one has a doozy.”
She could tell he wasn’t listening, his hand sliding into the open neck of the shirt to tease a swollen, sensitive nipple. She gasped and batted weakly at his hand.
“And what’s more, guess when it happened?”
“When?” he mumbled, his mouth working her neck. For someone who refused to bite her, he spent a lot of time on her neck.
“Fifty years ago next week! Maybe Kai is right. Maybe you do have a ghost.”
He finally raised his head to give her a skeptical look.
“Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts.”
“Why not? People didn’t believe vampires were real for a long time.”
“But we are and ghosts aren’t,” he said firmly and swung her around to face him.
She gasped again as the position brought her throbbing clit into direct contact with his erection.
“Flora said feeding gives vampires more stamina, because of the blood flow,” she whispered as he reached between them and freed his erection.
“Are you complaining about my stamina?”
“God, no.” She stroked her hand up and down the thick white shaft. “If you had any more stamina, I’m not sure I’d ever be able to walk again.”
