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I smile, biting my lower lip. My head dips to her ear, brushing against her strawberry scented hair. “Very soon.” I press my lips over the tip of her earlobe. “I’ll be able to fill you so full you’re screaming, and nothing will stop me this time.”
Her pretty cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “Oh, my God.” she murmurs.
Matt rolls his eyes, but luckily my girl doesn’t see. No doubt she’d be embarrassed if she knew they overheard me.
Francis opens the fridge and grabs a six-pack of canned beer. “Care if we chill for a while?”
I’m just about to tell them to leave, that way I can take my pretty human to the bedroom, but Jane speaks before me.
“That sounds nice.”
Ugh. Nice.
Francis tosses a can through the air, and Matt catches it. Behind them, the fire crackles. Francis nods toward me. “Want one?”
I let out a sound of resignation and lead Jane to the couch, catching the beer tossed in my direction.
Even though alcohol has no effect on vampires, old habits die hard. Sitting with my boys, sharing a cold one... Well, it’s not what I desire to be doing at this moment, but it’s nice.
Jane ends up with a beer too, and she cracks the top open. I pull her onto my lap, and soon we’re all gathered in a circle around the fireplace.
“So, Jane. What did you want to be when you grew up?” Francis asks, his boyish grin stretching wide.
“An artist,” she answers confidently.
“Ah,” Francis nods his head. “So you’re one of those artsy girls? The kind who paints shit all over her wall in high school just to piss off her parents?”
Her eyebrows rise, a playful smile appearing on her lips. “How’d you know?” She teases.
“I dated a sculptor ten years ago,” Matt says. “God, she was so smart. No one ever tells you how the creative types get all philosophical after sex. She had me thinking about String Theory for hours.”
Francis barks out a laugh. “I feel that. I dated this comic artist once, and she was literally the smartest woman I’ve ever met.”
Matt snorts.
“No, it’s true. Smarter than the chemist from 1997.” Francis continues, taking another long sip of his beer.
Jane shifts in my lap. “And you, Sam? Have you ever dated an artist before?”
I shoot my brothers a tight-lipped smile, hating them for leading the conversation to past flings. “Maybe once or twice. I haven’t been with anyone in a very long time.”
Her eyes narrow. “Hm,” she hums. “How long?”
Damn.
Francis coughs into his fist.
My knuckles skate over Jane’s arm. “Are we talking relationships or...?”
She rolls her eyes. “When was the last time you slept with anyone?”
I snap my fingers, grinning. “Last night.”
She jabs me with her elbow. “I meansleptwith.”
Matt cracks a smile. Dick.
“Oh, thirty years or so?” I squint my eyes, rubbing the base of my neck. “Something like that.” I silently will her to drop the topic.
