Page 29 of First Blood
That was when I got to see another one of Laurie’s smiles. It bloomed slowly, but grew into a mischievous grin that made him look heartbreakingly young, complete with gleaming eyes and fuckingdimples. Fuck my life.
“So you’re telling me that — let me get this straight. You’re so fucking hot I can’t believe you don’t already have ten boyfriends lined up outside waiting for a turn. You’re weird and funny and not actually an idiot, sorry I said that, and kind, and loyal. And icing on the cake, you’re rich and generous and want to take care of me. Permanently, and I never have to get in someone’s car and…” He trailed off, his voice wavering. “And for some reason you think I’m going to tell you to fuck off and leave me alone.”
“Are you?”Weird and funny and not actually an idiotwasn’t all that bad, per se, considering what people said about me otherwise, but it wasn’t wedding vows, either.
Laurie sighed. “No. I’m not. BecauseI’mnot an idiot.” He smiled at me and petted my chest with his fingers. I wanted that to go on forever, it felt so fucking good. “But maybe you are after all, because —”
No, I didn’t care why he thought I was an idiot. I washisidiot. I bent down and shut him up, kissing him and tasting him until his head tipped back over my arm and he clung to me and gave in completely.
“I’m not an idiot,” I whispered against his lips. “I picked you.”
Laurie slid his arms up around my neck. “Fair enough.” His smile shone as brightly as the sun reflecting off a snowbank. “Carry me to the shower? I’m tired.”
I swung him up in my arms. “Whatever you want.” And I kissed him all the way up the stairs.
Epilogue
Laurie
Victor was in a foul mood when he came home from work. He didn’t take it out on me, because he never did. But he waspissed.
“Fucking werewolves,” he grunted as he kicked off one of his steel-toed boots. “Fucking werewolves, I’m so fucking sick,” he kicked off the other and it hit the wall by the door with a thump, “of fuckingwerewolvesfucking up my coats.”
The front of his latest leather coat hung in tatters, and it was wet. Probably blood, knowing Victor. Which I did, better than I’d ever imagined I’d know the man who’d stepped out of an alley and offered me three hundred dollars to lick my lip six months before.
I hid a smile. His coats were his one vanity. He didn’t seem to get that he was just as terrifying, and just as gorgeous, wearing borrowed sweatpants or nothing at all.
Nothing at all. There was an idea. I was so nervous about my sister and nephews coming to visit the next day that I’d spent all afternoon cleaning the house, rearranging the new couch and dining table and chairs and guest room furniture, and then cleaning it all again.
So nervous that only Victor fucking me into a coma was going to get me to sleep that night.
“You have a spare coat,” I said soothingly. Victor looked up from where he was futzing with the rips in the front of the one he was wearing and raised a skeptical eyebrow. Okay, maybe I sounded more like I was suppressing laughter than like I was comforting him. “Also, you look really good without the coat.” I waggled my own eyebrows at him, and that finally won me a grudging smile.
“Fine,” he said, and shed the coat onto the floor. I winced. I’d just mopped that floor. “I need a shower anyway. And I’ll clean up later,” he added, accurately interpreting the look on my face. “I promise. Not a trace of blood on the floor. I’ll take care of it while you’re asleep.”
He dumped the rest of his clothes in the same heap while I stared without even pretending I wasn’t. Victor’s muscles had muscles, and when he shoved his jeans down the view got even better. I never got tired of it.
He stomped up the stairs, still muttering about asshole wolves who couldn’t hold their liquor, and I eyed the pile of bloody clothes. Victor wouldn’t take long in the shower, but I had time to start the laundry and wipe up before the blood stained the hardwood. All in a day’s work living with a vampire enforcer, and I didn’t mind. He never assumed I’d do the housework, and he was always grateful when I did. And honestly, I enjoyed it. I had a house worth cleaning, and it wasmine, and I’d never take a clean, quiet, safe, vermin-free roof over my head for granted. This was the first time I’d ever had one. Victor had given me that, and also a real job at the winery so I could talk to my sister without lying, and he gave me anything else I wanted, too. Usually before I even thought to ask.
Although the winery had its drawbacks. I gathered up the clothes and headed through the kitchen to the washing machine, dumping the coat to the side to see if it could be repaired later. Blood was a pain in the ass, but Victor had been right. Fairy puke was the worst. I’d finally Googled local resources, finding a freelance warlock to hire to make me a specialized magical cleaning solution. He was a little weird and hyper, and his website had disclaimers including ‘All fees collected up front. No necromancy, that’s my freaky brother-in-law. Don’t call before noon,’ but he had reasonable rates.
And when I got home from my Saturday shifts, Victor always had dinner waiting for me, even though he didn’t eat. Food, anyway. I loved it when he ate me.
With the laundry going, I tackled the floor, and then I headed upstairs when I heard the shower shut off.
I got to the bedroom in time to see Victor step out of the bathroom naked, rubbing a towel over his hair. My cock went from I’ve-been-cleaning-bloodstains soft to I’m-about-to-be-fucked-by-a-god hard, and I barely had time to pull my shirt off before he tackled me onto the bed, landing on top of me with a toothy grin that probably would’ve had anyone but me running away screaming.
That was something else I loved about Victor. He tended to get moody, but never for long, and never directed at me. “I missed you,” he said, nuzzling into my neck.
“No marks,” I gasped, even as I grabbed the back of his neck and buried my fingers in his damp hair, holding him closer so he wouldn’t get away. “Shelley’s already nervous about me living with a vampire.”
“No marks,” he agreed in a deep rumble that went all the way through me. “Not on your neck, anyway.”
He kissed me long and hard, until I could hardly breathe, and then he moved down, nipping and sucking over my chest. He ended up putting the hickey I knew he couldn’t resist onto the flesh of my abdomen, right over the waist of my pajama pants. I writhed under him, and my cock poked him in the neck. He chuckled and kissed the red mark he’d made.
“Get my pants off.” I’d meant it to be a firm command, but I sounded like I was begging. And I would be, soon enough. I’d never enjoyed begging before, because I’d usually been begging for effect and for something I didn’t actually want.
Begging the man I loved to give me everything, and then getting it, was a totally different story.
