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“It’s insulting.”
Cal pursed his lip, his eyes twinkling. “Are you sure you’re not upset because I made Paul think you’re unavailable?”
I jabbed my finger into his bare chest. “You know, I was completely happy before you showed up. My life wasn’t much, but it was mine. And when I’m no longer useful to you, you’re going to leave. And you’ll forget that I even existed.”
This would have been a really good time to walk away. But it’s really difficult to storm off when you’re straddling someone.
I tried to wriggle my way to my feet, but Cal held me fast against the door. He leaned closer, and I shied away. His mouth closed over mine, taking the air from my lungs. He pinned me to the door with his hips, and his hands slid up to my face. His rough, cool palms cradled my cheeks.
He tilted his forehead against mine. “That’s what you think?”
Before I could answer, his tongue glided easily over my lips, teasing them open. His mouth was cool and surprisingly fresh, although there was a subtle undertone of copper in his kiss. My knees sagged at the soft, insistent pressure that pulled my tongue past his lips. His hands slipped into my hair, pulling my face higher and closer to his as he pressed me back against the wall. Biting gently on my bottom lip, he nipped and nuzzled down the line of my chin to my ear.
I’d never kissed a vampire before. The lips were firmer and cooler, and the absence of breath against my skin was odd. I worried that I was too human, too weak, too plain. But soon even that thought evaporated into the ether, and every cell in my body fired for the sake of keeping me upright and attached to Cal’s mouth.>The use of “Petal” had me wincing. Gigi would give me hell if she heard him use that nickname, which, sadly, had worked on me once upon a time. Since Cal was staying put, I squared my shoulders and faced Paul full on. I had to be strong. I had to put a permanent end to this weird thing of ours. I had to keep Paul from seeing the smirking vampire hanging on my stair landing.
“Paul—”
“I’ve really missed you,” he said, tilting his head and giving me a crooked grin. “I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately.”
“Paul—”
“Haven’t you missed me?” he asked. “Aren’t you goin’ to invite me in?”
Why was he not noticing that so far, I’d only said his name?
“This isn’t a good time,” I told him.
“You’ve said that before.” He chuckled as he tried to step past me over the threshold.
“No,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder and holding him in place. It was a far more effective tactic with Paul than with Cal, since Paul didn’t have superstrength. “I can’t. I told you, it’s not a good time.”
He caught the way I glanced over my shoulder toward the stairs. He slid his hand around my wrist, his fingers shockingly warm after my having dealt with Cal for the last few days. My arms relaxed by degrees. “Are you OK? What’s goin’ on?”
“Nothing,” I insisted, stepping back out of his reach. “I told you, it’s just not a good time.”
“Are you sure nothin’s wrong?”
“Fine,” I promised. “I’m just working a lot, tired, you know?”
“You always have worked too hard.” He chuckled. “I could come in, make you one of my famous cheese omelets.”
“They’re famous because they’re the only thing you know how to cook.” I laughed, remembering the breakfast attempts that had resulted in Cajun-style “blackened” waffles. “And no, thanks. I appreciate the offer, but Gigi’s gone out with friends. I’ve got the house to myself, and I’m just going to go straight to bed.”
Paul’s eyes lit up, and I realized that I’d taken the exact conversational route I should have avoided. He thought I was about to issue an invitation. Oh … fudge.
“Well, that’s good news,” he said, taking another step inside the doorway, backing me inside. “Because I was hoping we could ‘catch up.’ ”
“Catching up”—another Paul code phrase, meaning “panties optional.”
I was spluttering an excuse when I felt a wintry hand slide around my waist. I tensed, and Cal’s smooth, honeyed voice said, “As a matter of fact, she’s busy at the moment. And if you don’t mind, we’d like to continue where we left off.”
I turned to find Cal smirking down at Paul. And he was shirtless. Shirtless, barefoot, with the top button of his jeans undone. Between that and my rumpled pajamas, it looked like Cal had just rolled out of bed to see why it was taking me so long to bring back the whipped cream and the padded handcuffs. It took all the dignity I had not to slap my palm over my forehead.
Suddenly, I wished I’d consumed a lot more vodka.
“Who the hell are you?” Paul’s tanned face flushed beet red. His wide brown eyes narrowed at me. “Iris, who is this?”
I stammered. “I—that is—uh, I—”
