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She backed out of the driveway, the car jerking crazily down the road until she got a feel for the gas pedal. She smiled, immensely pleased with herself when she managed to keep the car moving smoothly.
“Where should I go?” she asked.
“Turn left at the corner. There’s a long stretch down Winter Ridge Drive that won’t have much traffic this time of night. Don’t forget to signal for the turn.”
He clicked on the radio, then sat back, content to watch her while she got a feel for the car. He grinned. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her lower lip caught between her teeth. He glanced at her abdomen. It still amazed him that she was pregnant. The fact that he wished the child was his was even more surprising, but there it was. He was one of the oldest vampires in existence, more powerful than any creature who walked the earth, and he was jealous of the puny human male who had sired her child.
“Pathetic,” he muttered. “Just pathetic.”
“What?”
“I said turn right.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“Well, it’s what I’m saying now.”
She turned down the road he indicated, frowned as the road climbed higher and higher and got narrower and narrower until they ran out of road. A full moon shone down on a patch of tall grass surrounded by a stand of timber. Putting her foot on the brake, she looked at Logan and said, “Now what?”
Leaning forward, he switched off the engine and turned off the lights.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He flicked a switch. The console between the seats disappeared. The steering wheel folded up and slid out of sight.
Mara lifted an inquisitive brow as Logan turned toward her, one arm stretched along the back of the seat. “Is this part of the lesson?” she asked.
“The best part. It used to be called ‘parking.’”
“Parking?”
“Didn’t you ever park in a car and neck?”
“No. Did you?”
“Sure, it was all the rage in the late fifties. Of course, kids don’t do it much today. They just go to a motel.”
“You weren’t a kid when parking was popular.”
Logan shrugged. “It was still fun,” he said, moving closer. “Wanna give it a try?”
“Well, as long as it’s part of the lesson,” she said, trying not to grin.
“Radio,” Logan said, “play some tunes from the fifties.”
He put his arm around Mara and drew her up against him as Bonnie Guitar’s voice came over the speaker and the words to “Dark Moon” wafted through the air.
“So,” Mara said, her voice shaky as his tongue laved the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “Is this still part of lesson one?”
“Yes, and this is lesson two,” he murmured, and claimed her lips with his.
Kissing Logan was like diving into a deep, warm pool. She felt weightless, breathless, as he deepened the kiss. Every nerve ending hummed to life as sensual heat flooded her being. The music faded into the distance as Logan became her whole world. He was the air she breathed, her reason for living. His mouth moved over hers, now as light and gentle as a summer breeze, now hard and demanding. His tongue dueled with hers while his hands moved over her body, his touch tender, almost reverent.
She shivered with pleasure as he whispered love words in her ear, soft sweet words that made her feel beautiful, desirable. When she was trembling with need, certain she would expire or explode, he lifted her out of the car. Holding her close, he opened the trunk and grabbed a blanket. Nuzzling her neck, he spread the blanket on a patch of grass, lowered her onto it, and dropped down beside her.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously.
“You stopped kissing me, so I was wondering if that was the end of lesson two.”
“What do you think?” he asked with a roguish grin.
She slipped her hand under his shirt. Her fingers rubbed back and forth across his belly, then slipped inside his trousers. “I think I’m ready for lesson three.”
“You keep that up,” he growled, “and we’ll skip right to lesson four.”
Closing her eyes, she flung her arms out to the side. “Teach me,” she murmured. “Teach me everything.”
“You asked for it.”
He stretched out beside her, his arm sliding under her shoulders, drawing her body up against his, letting her feel the heat and strength of his arousal as he covered her mouth with his.
She moaned softly as his tongue tangled with hers. Caught up in his kisses, she hardly noticed the disappearance of their clothing until she felt his bare skin against hers.
She ran her hands over his back, his chest, loving the hard, muscular strength beneath her questing fingertips, the way his muscles quivered at her touch, the groan that rose in his throat as her hands caressed him.
Effortlessly, he rolled over, carrying her with him, so that she ended up on the top.
“Oh,” she purred, “I like this.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “I didn’t want to squish you, or the little one,” he said, and kissed her, slow and long and deep. “A taste?”
“You told me I tasted like poison,” she said, pouting.
“You’re human now, so . . .” He shrugged. “I’m willing to risk it.”
She gazed up at the sky, her body quivering as his fangs brushed her skin. There was no pain, only a rush of sensual pleasure, a sense of satisfaction that came with knowing her life’s blood was nourishing him.
“Logan, let me taste you.”
He didn’t argue, didn’t question, merely made a slit in the pad of his thumb with his teeth and held it to her lips. His blood slid down her throat, hot and thick. It increased her desire, amplified her senses, heightened her pleasure as his body melded with hers.
It was, in a word, amazing. Drinking from humans had been wondrous beyond compare. Why had it never occurred to her that the opposite misght also be true? If humans knew how wonderful a small drop of vampire blood tasted, how it magnified human senses, hunters would be seeking vampires more zealously than they did now, not for their heads, but for their blood.
Logan moved deep within her. Fulfillment came quickly and completely.
He kissed her gently, tenderly. “Thus endeth the lessons for tonight,” he murmured, and rolled onto his side, taking her with him, so they lay face to face, their bodies still entwined.
