About a Vampire (20 page)

Clucking under her tongue, she tossed aside the sheet and blankets covering her and got out of bed, switching on the bedside lamp as she did. Pausing as she took note of the pajamas she'd bought that day and now wore, she briefly considered changing into clothes or grabbing a housecoat, but really, was there any reason to? They were flannel after all, with dancing bears in pink tutus on them. She'd thought they were charming when she'd bought them, and they were cute as could be, but they were hardly skimpy or seductive. No one would accuse of her of trying to seduce anyone if she were caught out in them.

Smiling faintly to herself, Holly headed out of her room only to pause again as she stepped into the hall and found it in darkness. Everyone else had obviously gone to bed too, which was rather surprising to her. She'd thought vampires were night ­people and that she would naturally fall into that pattern too once she'd got more regulated. But it seemed she was wrong. The house was as silent as a tomb, and as dark as the cemetery had been the other night.

Not wanting to turn on the hall light and wake everyone, Holly reached for the wall and began to ease carefully toward the end of the hall, feeling her way when she got close to where she thought the steps were. Once she reached the top of the stairs, she grasped the railing to make her way cautiously down those as well. It was a relief when she reached the main floor without breaking her neck, and she moved a little more quickly along the hall to the kitchen, where she turned the light on the moment she pushed the door open.

Bright light immediately poured down over her and she slid into the room with a little sigh. The idea of returning upstairs without light was not a pleasant one and Holly decided that after she'd eaten she'd search the drawers for a flashlight or one of the candles Justin had used at dinner the other night, so that she'd have light for the return journey. With that problem solved, if only in her mind, she headed for the refrigerator and the fried chicken waiting inside.

She had removed the food, set it on the counter and was just reaching into the refrigerator for the potato salad when her gaze caught on the can of spray whip cream. Grinning, she grabbed that instead, the idea of the sweet, creamy foam doing more for her appetite at the moment than either the chicken or the potato salad. Probably because it was one of those things she'd had to avoid in the past. When she was mortal and diabetic, she'd had to be very careful of what she ate in an effort to keep her sugars balanced. But now . . .

Not even thinking first, she popped the plastic lid, tipped her head, aimed the spout into her mouth and shot a wad of lovely whipped cream onto her tongue. She'd just lowered her head and closed her mouth on the sweet treat with a moan of pleasure when the kitchen door opened.

Lowering the can to her side, Holly spun guiltily in the open refrigerator door to see Justin entering the kitchen. He wore a pair of low slung, red plaid pajama bottoms and nothing else. His feet were bare, but more important, so was his chest, and she found herself gaping at the sight. Holly had thought the man was good-­looking from the start, and the tight T-­shirts he wore showed off that he had a nice figure, but not nearly as much as nakedness did. Dear God, the man was all sculpted pecs and rippling abs as he entered the room.

Realizing that her mouth had dropped open and the wad of rapidly dissolving whipped cream was in danger of drooling out, Holly closed her mouth and swallowed guiltily just as he took note of her presence.

“Hi,” he said, his voice husky from sleep.

“Hi,” she responded weakly.

“I see I wasn't the only one who was hungry,” he added wryly, moving toward her.

Holly muttered something that even she found unintelligible and instinctively backed up a step as he neared. But she came up short when she bumped into the open refrigerator door. Fortunately, her action made Justin pause a ­couple of steps away. Or maybe he'd planned to stop there, she acknowledged as he surveyed the chicken on the counter.

“There's potato salad too,” he announced, turning his attention to her again.

“I know,” Holly said and then just stood there . . . staring at his chest. It was obvious the man did not sunbathe. His skin was pale enough she doubted it had ever been exposed to the sun's rays, but that didn't take away from the beauty of it. Justin could have posed for Michelangelo or one of those other artists who sculpted the male form. He was perfect, with large, hard-­looking pecs above a stomach that bragged an eight-­pack rather than six and rippled down to the start of a V that disappeared under the waist of his pajama bottoms. In that moment, Holly thought that she would have given a lot to see what those plaid pants hid, but then she remembered that she was married and closed her eyes to try to banish the temptation along with her vision of him.

“Are you all right?”

Holly blinked her eyes open at that question, and sucked in a breath as she realized that he'd closed the small space between them and was reaching to touch her face. Obviously, he'd completely misconstrued why she'd closed her eyes, she thought and opened her mouth to assure him that she was fine, only to pause again with surprise when his fingers lightly grazed her cheeks and her stomach seemed to jump in response.

“I . . .” Holly breathed the single word and that was it. Nothing followed it into the silence in the room. Whatever she'd meant to say had flown from her mind, leaving her simply standing there, a brainless twit.

“You are so beautiful and sexy,” Justin said solemnly and her eyes widened incredulously at the claim. She was without makeup, her hair no doubt a ruffled mess from her tossing and turning, and she was wearing flannel pajamas with dancing bears on them, for cripes sake. And they had tutus on no less. She couldn't imagine anything less sexy than dancing bears.

He moved another step closer, removing the last inch of space that had separated them and Holly bit her lip on a gasp as his chest brushed lightly against the flannel that covered the tips of her nipples. The resulting riot that caused in her body had her eyes widening and her hand clenching around the can of whipped cream she still held.

“I—­” she repeated, and this time stopped there because his mouth was suddenly covering hers. The heat that poured over Holly then was a familiar one from that morning, but this time it seemed to catch fire even faster than it had then. There was no questing, or nibbling at her lips to gain entry. Her mouth was already open and Justin took full advantage, plunging his tongue in to explore her depths. Holly stood completely still, her conscience battling with her body's response, and then Justin broke the kiss and shifted to nibble at her ear before whispering. “It's okay. It's a dream.”

“It is?” she asked with confusion.

“Look. It's a dream,” he assured her, and she forced her eyes open to look around.

They had magically moved from the refrigerator to the kitchen table. Instead of standing, she was now seated on the table and he stood between her spread legs while his hands busily worked at the buttons of her flannel top. And while she still clutched the whipped cream in her hand, the chicken was no longer on the counter and the refrigerator door was closed as if she had never opened it.

“A dream,” she realized with bewilderment. It had to be. He couldn't have got her over here and set her on the table without her noticing—­

She was distracted from that thought when he suddenly tugged her pajama top open, revealing her bare chest.

“How did you do that so quickly?” she gasped with amazement, automatically reaching to grab the edges of her flannel top to pull them closed again.

“A dream, remember?” he chuckled. Letting her hold her top closed like the ninny she was, he clasped her face instead and kissed her again.

Holly didn't fight him, but she didn't respond either. While passion poured over her in waves, she was struggling to sort out if it would be cheating if it was a dream, or if it even was one. It was possible he'd just used immortal speed.

When she felt his hand clasp her breast through the flannel of her top and lightly pinch her nipple, she moaned and broke their kiss to gasp, “But I'm married.”

“This is a dream,” he repeated gruffly by her ear, and then ran his tongue around the rim of her ear before dropping his lips to nibble at her neck between whispers.

“It's okay. It's a dream.”

Holly frowned, her hand releasing her top to grasp his shoulders to keep her balance on the table as his hands slid under her bottom to ease her forward to press against him. Maybe it was, she thought. Maybe she was imagining that it was Justin kissing and touching her . . .

Holly gasped as their groins rubbed together through their pajamas sending liquid fire shooting through her. This time when his mouth covered hers, she kissed back even as she wondered why she was imagining Justin here touching and kissing her instead of her husband.

If this was a dream, shouldn't she be imagining her husband? She wondered and with her eyes closed tried to do that, but it wasn't her husband's cologne filling her nose, it was the spicy woodsy scent she'd noticed that Justin wore. Shaking her head, she broke their kiss and said, “This is wrong.”

“It's just a dream,” he repeated, licking his way down her throat and Holly glanced around wildly as she realized they'd moved again. They were no longer in the kitchen. Now they were in a bedroom, though it wasn't one she recognized. This one was decorated in dark brown and beige. A man's room, obviously, with heavy oak furniture and a massive king-­sized bed covered with dark chocolate satin sheets. She was now lying on her back on those sheets, the satin slippery beneath her skin as he crawled down her body.

“How . . . ?” Holly began with bewilderment, and then nearly bit her tongue off as she realized that the satin was slippery beneath her skin because her flannel pajamas were gone. She was completely naked on that bed. No more dancing bears to protect her.

Definitely a dream, she realized, and that thought made her raise her head slightly to peer down his body in the hopes of seeing what his plaid pajama pants hid, but those were still in place. Only she was starkers. So unfair, she thought and then stared in surprise when he suddenly had the whipped cream can in his hand that she'd held earlier.

Where the devil had that come from? Apparently it had followed them from the first part of the dream, her mind reasoned and she bit her lip, simply watching as he shifted the can above one nipple and sprayed a circle over it. It was surprisingly warm for having just come out of the refrigerator, and stupidly, she said as much. “It should be cold. Why isn't it cold?”

“It's a dream,” he reminded her on a chuckle and then swooped down to close his mouth over the cream and her nipple both. Holly gasped, her back arching violently off the bed as his hot mouth suckled then licked her breast clean.

“Oh God,” she moaned, and shook her head in denial, then blurted, “It's not cheating if it's a dream, right?”

“No,” he agreed, and then swiped her breast again, removing the last of the whipped cream.

“No,” Holly decided and grabbed him by the ears to drag him back up her body.

Dream Justin came willingly. His pajama-­clad groin pressed against the center of her as she claimed his mouth. Holly immediately spread her legs, and then wrapped them around his hips, urging him tighter against her as she thrust her tongue out.

With that one action she seemed to open the floodgates to an erotic world of pleasure. His body was hot and hard against her, his smell enveloped her, and his hands were everywhere, bringing every inch of her body to singing life as they caressed her side, her back, her ass, and then moved between them to clasp her breasts and squeeze firmly.

Holly broke their kiss and threw her head back on a gasp when he did that, and Justin immediately eased back enough to claim one nipple with his mouth again. This time she didn't pull him away from what he was doing, but knotted her hands in his hair and gasped and moaned and then murmured encouragingly as he laved first one breast and then the other. When he reached up with one hand to caress her cheek as he worked on her breasts, she turned her head to nip and then suckle at one of his fingers, and then gasped around the digit when his other hand slid between her legs.

At first he merely cupped her, pressing firmly against the heated skin, but then he eased a finger between her lips to find the nub at the center of her excitement and began to run teasing circles around it that had her hips gyrating in response. Panting and moaning by turn, Holly tried to reach down to touch him, but he was positioned so that his erection was out of her reach. Growling in her throat with frustration, she scraped her nails up his back instead, then caught him under the arms and tugged upward.

Again, Dream Justin responded to her silent demand. A soft chuckle slipping from his lips, he released the nipple he'd been teasing and moved up her body, positioning himself between her legs. He didn't thrust into her right away as she wanted, though, but stared down into her face, smiling softly.

“You're a wild one,” he accused gently, rubbing himself teasingly against her opening. “You act all prim and proper, but underneath it all, you're a wildcat with claws.”

Holly merely dug those claws into his shoulder and shifted her hips, trying to pull him into her.

Justin chuckled at the attempt, but shifted his hips backward, then bent to nuzzle her ear and whispered, “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” Holly panted, wrapping her legs around his hips and trying to lift herself onto the erection taunting her.

“Say my name,” he whispered, nipping at her ear.

Cursing, Holly let her legs drop, and then shifted quickly, catching him by surprise and throwing him onto his back. She followed, coming to rest on top of him, then pushed at his chest to sit up, shifted slightly and reached down to grasp his penis and lowered herself onto it.