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"You're wet and cold," he said, matter-of-factly.
"My skin may be cold and I may be wet, but trust me, I'm warm where it counts." I closed the gap between us and pressed my breasts lightly against him. The silk felt so good against my nipples that I rubbed them back and forth across his shirt, enjoying the smooth coolness of the material. "Would you like to feel just how warm and wet?"
"What I would like," he said, and leaned forward to drop a quick kiss on my lips, "is for you to have a shower and get dressed so we can make our dinner reservation."
"Meaning no fun beforehand?"
"No."
"Damn."
He smiled, and my heart did another weird twist in. my chest. I'd known lots of good-looking men over the years, and many or them had great smiles, but Quinn's was in a league of its own.
"What if I promise it will be worth it? " he said.
"Dinner will only be worth it if you come as dessert."
"Maybe I will. Maybe I'm not taking you to dinner at all, but somewhere where there is no chance of interruption so I can ravish you senseless. But if you do not get ready, you will never know."
I admitted momentary defeat and stepped back. "Then I'm guessing you don't want to share the shower with me?"
"I'd love to share a shower, but I suspect it would end up being an extremely long shower."
"And there's something wrong with that?"
"Absolutely nothing." He gave me another killer smile. "Go get ready, woman."
I went. And while I usually lingered in the shower, enjoying the sting of the water jets against my skin, there was nothing leisurely about this shower. I was out and dried in record time. I waltzed naked from the bathroom and headed for the bedroom. Quinn had his back to me, staring out over the myriad of city lights so visible from our windows. But, like moths drawn to a flickering flame, our gazes met in the glass.
I stopped, and for several seconds did nothing more than stare at him. It was rare for me, that. Werewolves seldom held still for any amount of time - the energy of the beast, barely contained, was Rhoan's theory. But in this instance the urge to move had fled, consumed by the force of the vampire in front of me, lost in the emotive swirl of want and desire and something else - something that ventured close to determination and yet was a whole lot more powerful.
Then his gaze left mine and slid down my body, becoming a sensual and yet excruciatingly slow exploration that had pinpricks of sweat breaking out across my skin. And suddenly it was all I could do not to run across the room and jump into his arms. Take or be takers.
He smiled at that moment, and I knew he'd read the emotion behind the thought, if not the thought itself. Quinn was both a strong empath and telepath, and while I had mind-shields strong enough to keep most vampires out, there was something about this vampire that left my senses reeling and my defenses down.
And it wasn't just the link we'd formed to allow communication between us in psi-shielded areas. It was more - had always been more, even before we'd shared blood.
But he was a vampire, not a wolf, and no matter how much my own body might betray my white picket fence and kids ideal, no matter how deep the connection between us became, there was no escaping the fact that we came from two very different worlds. I could never be only with him like he wanted, and he could never provide what I wanted. I might not be able to carry children but, at this point, my eggs were still fertile. But Quinn could never give me those children. He was the undead.
Nor would he stand for someone else giving me what he could not provide. God, he hated the fact that I had other lovers, that I still went to the clubs and danced with whom I wanted, even though he knew that was part of a werewolf's nature - and something we would not give up for anyone less than a soul mate.
And while I might feel a deep connection with Quinn, he wasn't a wolf and he could never be my soul mate.
No matter how much he might think otherwise.
His gaze went back to the lights, freeing me from stillness but leaving me hot and achy and more than a little frustrated. I mightn't have any idea about the game he was playing, but I'd be damned if I put up with it for much longer. He might have centuries of secrets behind him, but I was a werewolf and sensuality was an inherent part of who we were. Sex was as important to us as blood was to a vampire, and if Quinn expected me to simply play along with whatever he had planned, then he was in for a rude awakening.
I continued into the bedroom and headed for the wardrobe, which wasn't as sparse as it had been a few months ago. Rhoan had gone on another of his spending sprees, and as usual, he'd bought clothes for me. I think he figured I wouldn't tell him off as much if he shared the loot. And I have to admit, his taste was far better than mine, even if his love of bright colors sometimes had me wincing.
"Do I need to dress casual, elegant, or upmarket?" I yelled out as I studied options.
"Comfortable," he answered, amusement evident in his deep tones.
Damn. It was hard to do seductive in comfortable clothes. After several minutes of indecision, I simply grabbed a pair of jeans and a thick woolen sweater. If I couldn't do sexy, I might as well be warm. I grabbed socks and undies, but didn't bother with a bra. The moon was blooming, and the moon heat - which was what we wolves called the seven day period before the full moon - was only days away. This was the time when the power of the moon surged through our veins with ever-increasing strength, and our hunger for sex became a call we could not - dare not - ignore. The heat didn't usually hit me as hard as it did full-blooded wolves, but every couple of months I suffered all the outward symptoms. Like my breasts feeling fuller, and becoming overly sensitive. And me reeling hornier than a bitch in heat.
Which I guess was what I was.
I dressed, dragged a pair of shoes from the grip of the dust bunnies under my bed, then walked back into the living room. He looked me up and down, then said, "Perfect."
