The Fangover (The Fangover 1)

“My darling I, can’t get enough of your love, babe.”

Okay, that wasn’t a part of her imagination. She’d never heard Barry White, ever, while kissing a man.

Had Cort heard that, too?

He lifted his head and shot a puzzled look around the room.

“Did you hear that?”

She nodded.

“Can’t get enough of your love, babe.”

They both looked up at the parrot, who was still perched on top of the fridge. It bobbed its head as soon as it saw them looking at it.

“I’ve thought about this so many times. Although we were never being serenaded by a klepto bird with a drinking problem, I must say.”

Katie looked up at him, stunned. He’d thought about this before.

“You don’t have to look so surprised,” he said, giving her a crooked smile. “I don’t think many men would think of seducing you with a bird present.”

“You thought of seducing me?”

His gaze held hers, dark and burning with his own desire. “Many, many times.”

His words thrilled her, as did the smooth, sexy cadence of his voice. She also noticed his words held more of an accent now. He had a slight, barely noticeable accent normally, but now it was thicker, becoming more pronounced with his desire.

That thrilled her, too. Longing swirled through her body even stronger. Everything about this man was so sexy.

Sinfully sexy. And she felt wicked in his arms.

And she liked it. It made her feel more daring, more brazen, and sexier herself.

“I have, too,” she told him. “I thought of this from the very first time I met you.”

She hesitated, her good-girl side resurfacing despite her goal to keep it under wraps, at least for tonight. But would he see that as rather stalker-ish. Or pathetic?

Instead he kissed her again, and all her concerns fled. Soon she was swept up again in her desire, her hands moving more frantically over his shoulders and arms and back.

“You’re the first, you’re the last, you’re my everything.”

Again Katie wasn’t sure if she was really hearing those words outside of her head. If not, she couldn’t deny that she could feel that way about Cort. He could easily be her everything.

She moaned as he lifted his head, not ready for his lips to leave hers again. He smiled sympathetically at her forlorn expression as he laced his fingers through hers and led her down the hallway.

Her lust-hazed brain realized he was taking her to his bedroom.

“I’m not making love to you for the first time in my kitchen,” Cort said with a lopsided smile. “I’m certainly not opposed to making love on the kitchen table. In fact, I’d love that. Just not for the first time. And not with that damned bird singing Barry White throughout the whole thing.”

She nodded, feeling tingly and dazed. She did agree the cawed Barry White was a little distracting. And she didn’t want anything diverting her attention from his man.

Her mind, fuzzy with desire and excitement and nervousness, still managed to lock onto something else. He said “first time.” She wasn’t sure if that implied there’d be more than one time, but then she decided not to analyze that now. Right now, she was going to thoroughly enjoy that she was getting a first time.

Then another thought occurred to her. “Maybe this isn’t our first time.”

He paused inside the doorway. He turned and looked at her, those sleepy eyes fringed by dark lashes that any woman would kill for. He released her hand and touched her cheek, brushing a lock of hair away from her cheek.

“I don’t know what we did last night. But I know I’m treating this like it’s the first time.”

She nodded. He was right.

He kissed her again, this time the kiss as sweet as it was sensual.

Vaguely Katie heard a noise behind her, but she didn’t connect what it was until another Barry White lyric filled the hallway behind them.

They parted again to find the parrot perched on the hall light that swung lopsidedly under its weight.

“Come on.” Cort ushered her into his room and quickly shut the door before the bird could follow them.

“I’m starting to feel like I’m in an Alfred Hitchcock film,” Cort muttered, and she had to laugh.

“Let’s be happy there’s only one bird.”

“True.”

They stood there smiling at each other for a moment, but quickly the atmosphere changed, sparking again with their awareness of each other.

Cort walked back over to her, again touching her cheek. “You are so beautiful.”

Katie had never considered herself beautiful. She was the average girl next door with her plain old blue eyes, hair that lingered somewhere between blonde and light brown and the smattering of freckles over the nose. She had an average figure, her br**sts not too big, her hips maybe a little too wide, her weight average. But the way Cort looked at her now, she felt absolutely beautiful.

“You are beautiful, too,” she said, reaching out to touch his cheek. She loved the chiseled strength of his jawline, the slight rasp of stubble under her fingertips.

He smiled at her words, then captured her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm.

Katie could feel that kiss throughout her whole body. Every nerve ending tingled and sang at the sensation.

“I’m so aroused,” she whispered, stunned a simple, sweet kiss like that could stimulate her so much.

“That’s part of your change, too. We feel everything more, because of our state.”

She believed him, but she also knew it was him. Period. Maybe the vampirism heightened her senses, but she knew she’d have reacted to him just as readily as a mortal.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her over to his bed. He eased her down onto the tangle of bedding. Had they created this knot of sheets and blankets? Maybe.

But they definitely were going to do so now. Cort followed her down onto the bed, his mouth finding hers again. They kissed, their hands exploring again, this time slipping under their clothing, hands running over bare flesh.

She gasped at the rasp of his fingers over the lace of her bra, over the sensitive hardness of her nipple. But he didn’t rush, his hand sliding back down her belly, to the top of her jeans, then back up her belly.

She didn’t feel as capable of being patient. Her own hands stroked the smooth skin of his back, over his sinewy sides to his stomach and up his muscular chest. The skin there was smooth, too, except for the tiny poke of his ni**les.

As hard as hers, she thought with satisfaction, as she swirled a thumb around one of them.