,
by
Kt Clapsadl
Cici Trent, vampire and media darling, spends her days finding true love for humans and supernaturals (the “Others”) at her dating agency. But someone is trying to sabotage her business and she needs help. Unfortunately, the best man for the job is the one who broke her still beating heart two hundred fifty-four years ago.
Deacon is a patient vampire. He’s only loved one woman in over three hundred years— CiCi— and she chose another. So when she shows up in his office asking for help, he finally has the chance to lay that demon to rest. He’ll help her, but for a price—a night in his bed.
Adrenaline, mischief, and a little late-night B&E light the passion that even a couple of lifetimes couldn't put out. But Deacon has a secret and when Cici is suddenly mortal, his deception might be the only way restore her immortality. Can love bridge the gap between a heartbeat and forever?
He rose from his perch on the desk, straightening to his full height, and pressing as much of it as he could against her body. She stiffened at first contact, but as they stood and stared at each other, her body melted into his, softening and warming with the heat they created by just being in the same room. He moved his hand from her chin, skimming the soft skin of her jaw until he speared his fingers into the silken titian strands of her hair. They were slippery and cool against his skin as he burrowed in and palmed her head, tugging her forward. His movements were fueled by need and less smooth than he normally used in the seduction of women, but this was Cici in front of him with her full breasts pressed against his chest and her lips parting on a sound somewhere between a whimper and a sigh.
“I think…” She licked her lips, the wetness triggering a response in him that made his knees buckle slightly. “I think you might be exaggerating this attraction between us.”
“Oh really?” He let his fangs descend, the tension in his body screaming for some release—screaming for her blood. But he never engaged in blood play. It was too intimate for him, a connection with another person that he had no interest in making. Sex was fun. Sex was hot and dirty and very over once the sweat cooled on your skin. But Cici made him want to sink fang and cock into her so deep they were one body. He wouldn’t allow it, but the need was distractingly powerful.
“Happy.” He murmured his nickname for her against the warm column of her neck, his fangs grazing lightly as he blazed a trail of kisses up to her ear. She shivered, her small hands clutching at his shirt and dragging him closer, her legs parting slightly, skirt riding higher, to allow him to insert his thigh between hers and wedge their bodies together. His dick, hard and aching, pressed against her core as they humped slowly in an ancient rhythm that felt new with her. He whispered in her ear. “You are a woman who has pretended to be other people for your country. You have stolen, betrayed, and killed to protect others. You are brave, smart, and proud.”
He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, the flash of blue resembling the purest part of flame. “You’re not a coward or a liar.”
Deacon kissed her then, his mouth coaxing the truth from her that her pride would not let her admit. She opened to him immediately and he took what she offered. His tongue swept inside her mouth, tangling with hers before he retreated to run a fang along the tender skin on the inside of her lower lip. Cici gasped, her hands traveling from his shirt to tangle in his hair, her tug not so gentle as she dragged his mouth his mouth back to hers. This time she led the possession, taking him with a rough need that contradicted her earlier words.
He palmed her ass, the skirt riding up high enough for him to feel smooth skin and give him the fantasy-inducing knowledge that she wore a thong. Cici rode his thigh, the kiss becoming messier and more carnal with each passing second. Deacon wanted to reach down, unzip his cargo pants, and free his heavy length from its current place of strangling torture. It would take no time to push aside her flimsy excuse for underwear and slide inside until she covered him with her warmth.
Now was not the time.
His entire crew was just outside of her shitty excuse for a security door and he would not be caught with his pants around his ankles by one of his men. He pulled back reluctantly, breaking the physical connection, but unable to do anything to sever the tether of emotion that tied them together.
Cici stumbled backward on her high heels, catching herself on the small conference table behind her. She looked dazed, aroused, and delicious.
“You. Wet and willing. In my bed.” He licked his lips, tasting her as he willed his fangs to recede. “Anything less than that and I will go mad. You get me?”
She nodded. “Yes. I get you.”
“No more lies about how we don’t have to do this, that we don’t want to do this.” He could hear Andy walking toward the office down the hallway, but this needed to be said once and for all. “No lies between us as long as your life is in danger. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Cici looked as if she’d just signed away her soul to the devil. He knew what that felt like; he’d done just that two hundred and thirty-nine years ago.
Robin Covington loves to explore the theme of fooling around and falling in love in her bestselling books. When she’s not writing sexy, sizzling romance she’s collecting tasty man candy, indulging in a little comic book geek love, and stalking Joe Manganiello. You can find Robin at her Website, Facebook, Twitter, Newsletter, and Pinterest. Don't send chocolate . . . send eye candy!
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