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Then he pulls out.Instead of falling to the other side of the bed as he did last night, he stands.
“It’s been fun, princess.”
Is this a kiss off?
Seriously?
“Yeah,” I say, baring my cuspids.“Fun.”
He looks away, dresses quickly, and walks toward the door of my bedroom.
Wait… My bedroom?We were in his penthouse last night.We—
“What gives, Rogan?”
“Nothing.”
“How did we get here?We made love in your bed last night.”
He meets my gaze.“First, princess, we didn’t make love.We fucked.”
“Semantics, Rogan.”
“Think what you need to think,” he replies.“Second, I brought you back to your room last night.”
“Uh…how?”
“Easy.I wrapped a sheet around you and carried you down.You’re light as a feather.”
To him?Maybe.“And no one wondered why you were carrying a naked woman in the elevator?”
“I’m the owner of the hotel, princess.I have my own elevator.By the way, I sent your clothes to cleaning.They’ll be returned by noon today.”He turns toward my bedroom door.
Really?He’s going to leave without a kiss?Without another word?
Without letting me feed?
As if reading my mind, he turns and meets my gaze.“Have a safe trip back to Chicago.”Then he exits.
I’m numb.
Numb and fucking hungry.
Does he think this is goodbye?Because he’s wrong.I came here for information, and I aim to get it.I need his cooperation.
I rise, nearly stumbling.I’m a little lightheaded from the two orgasms plus I need blood.
The problem?The only blood that will satisfy me just walked out of my suite.
Fine.
Two can play this stupid-ass game.
I shower quickly and don the vampy clothes I brought with me.Dark red tank, black jeans, leather thigh high boots.
Victor Rogan, you’ve met your fucking match.
9
