Page 16 of Vampire Soldier
“While he may be late on paying me back more often than not, at least he’s never short-changed me.” I’ve used my casual customer service voice, the one that hides a multitude of emotions for waiters all over the world. “Now, you can leave. Like you should have ten minutes ago.”
With Sam gone, the silence is deafening. Malachi hasn’t moved, but the intensity of his gaze is enough to make me feel like a tiny, hunted animal. His scent is thick and overwhelming, the richness of sandalwood and musk wrapping around me and drawing me closer. My skin tingles, my lips part, and every rational thought I’ve ever had flies right out of my head.
My feet move on their own accord, bringing me closer and closer to him. His chest rises and falls, the movement visible as his eyes blaze with a deep red fire. I reach out, unable to stop myself, and press my hand over his heart. It thunders against my palm, matching the tempo of my own.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” I whisper.
“No.” He agrees. “I’m not.”
“Why did you come to the bar?”
“You know why.”
“Because you’re attracted to me,” I reply, thinking of how he trapped me against his office door earlier in the day.
“And you’re attracted to me.” Malachi takes a step closer and his hands come up to rest on either side of my waist. “So, where does that leave us?”
“Nowhere.” I grab his wrists but can’t bring myself to push him away. “You’re my boss.”
“Am I?”
I jerk my head back, studying his face. “Unless you’re suddenly rescinding the job offer?”
His mouth lifts into a smirk, the point of a fang peeking out. It draws my eyes. Was it always this long?
“Of course not.” Malachi steps forward and, instinctively, I retreat. When my back hits the wall, my mouth goes dry. Hesitant, I drag my gaze back to his golden ones. The red outline of his pupil is brighter than before. He tilts his head down, bringing our faces close together. “You haven’t signed any paperwork yet. Technically speaking, I won’t be your boss until tomorrow.”
Realization courses through me. Followed by arousal.
“You’re suggesting . . .” I trail off, needing to know exactly what he’s saying. There can’t be any misunderstandings here.
Malachi raises his hand and brushes the back of a knuckle down my cheek. “I don’t do relationships, Blake. One night is my promise. One night of shared pleasure with no expectations come morning. One night to get this attraction sated and out of my system. What do you say?”
The way his voice caresses my name, his touch, and his proximity all conspire against me. My entire body feels overheated, a slow-building tension coiling low in my belly. Arousal throbs between my thighs and, despite my best intentions, I can’t help but ask the question.
“Only one night?”
He nods, his fingers trailing down the side of my neck.
“Just one night.”
I lick my lips and his gaze zeros in on the movement. “We can’t go to my room. It’s next to Charlie’s.”
His expression lights up, almost as if he’s surprised I’m agreeing to this. Hell, *I’m* surprised I’m doing this. Then a hunger so encompassing it steals the air from my lungs reveals itself in him. He braces both forearms on the wall on either side of my head, before dropping his face beside mine, our cheeks nearly touching. It’s as if that narrow space between our flesh is No Man’s Land, waiting for one of us to finally brave the distance to close it.
Malachi practically growls, “Where, then?”
“The living room.”
He waits. So near me but not touching. “You’re sure about this? Say no, and it’ll be like it never happened. You don’t need to worry about your job.”
Filled with an unfamiliar boldness, I grab his suit jacket with one fist and turn my head towards him. I cross the line, closing the space between us as the corner of my lips glance across his skin. “I’m not doing this for my job.”
Malachi moves, shocking an embarrassing meep from me as he scoops me up in his arms. Then his mouth is on mine. He doesn’t kiss me. He consumes me.
This is nothing like the few other times a man has kissed me. I’ve kissed men. They’ve kissed me. But this is an entirely different thing. Malachi takes complete possession, his lips claiming mine as if he’s branding himself into my skin. I’m not just a passive recipient either. My mouth is greedy, matching his demands with each stroke.
Malachi moves through the entry hall, navigating my small home with an ease that surprises me. I’m so caught up in the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands tightening on my hips, and the warmth of his body against mine, I don’t register that we’ve made it to the living room until the soft cushions of the couch press against my back.
