Fangs for Nothing (The Fangover 2)

“Do you hear it?” she asked again, her hand still braced on his chest, her head tilted as she listened.

Again, singing filtered in from the other room. But it was strange, almost mechanical sounding. But gradually he recognized the song.

“Is someone singing Barry White?” Josie Lynn asked, giving him a bemused look.

He nodded. “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love, Babe.”

“That’s what I thought. Is it coming from inside the apartment?”

It was, but he didn’t want to startle her. “I’m not sure.” Then he heard something else besides the weird, dissonant singing. He heard footsteps coming down the hallway even though they were nearly silent.

Someone was coming.

He quickly pulled Josie Lynn down against him and then snagged the edge of the comforter, tugging it over them just as the door opened. Josie Lynn made a startled noise, but kept her face buried against his neck.

“I knew it,” Cort said. “When the stupid parrot starts singing Barry White, I know exactly what it means.”

“Hey,” Drake said trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

Cort gave him a pointed look. “The question is what’s up with you? And why are you up to it in my and Katie’s bed?

“Would you believe things just—sort of happened?” Drake asked.

“Absolutely,” Cort said.

“Whoa,” Wyatt said, popping his head in the doorway over Cort’s shoulder. “Looks like you’ve been busy. Clearly not finding Saxon, but busy.”

Josie Lynn made a small noise and buried her face deeper into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

“You know what guys, why don’t you give me a minute here,” Drake said, tightening his arms around Josie Lynn in a silent effort to comfort her. She pressed even tighter against him as if she wanted to just disappear into his body. Unfortunately, the more embarrassed she got, and the tighter she pressed against him and her muscles strained, the more turned-on he got. He was still buried deep inside her, and it was taking every inch of his willpower to hold his hips still. But damn, he wanted to be pumping in and out of her soft body.

“Oh right,” Cort said, turning to leave, shooing Wyatt as he went.

The door clicked shut, and Drake hugged Josie Lynn again. “It’s okay. They’re gone.”

She lifted her head out from under the blanket and groaned with embarrassment. “I can’t believe they walked in on us.”

“Well, we are in Cort and Katie’s room,” he pointed out. “Which technically isn’t our fault. We were sort of trapped here by the bird.”

She sat up more, bracing her hands on either side of his head, her beautiful br**sts so close to his lips. “That was a bird? I thought you said it was a bat.”

“Well, apparently it was a bird. A real ass**le of a parrot,” he explained almost absently, his attention on her ni**les, which were so pink and deliciously puckered.

“Is the parrot Saxon’s too?”

He shook his head, then caught one of her ni**les in his mouth, unable to stop himself.

Josie Lynn gasped and arched her back, pressing her nipple tighter to his lips.

“Sh—shouldn’t we stop? This isn’t your room.”

“We’re already here,” he said, tracing his tongue around her distended nipple. “And Cort already knows we’re here. So . . .”

He drew her nipple deeper into his mouth.

She made a whimpering noise and began to move her hips.

“You are so evil,” she breathed, bobbing up and down on him, taking him hard and deep.

He smiled, even as his own breathing came in short, pleased gasps. “Not evil at all. I just know what I want. And I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

Her motion slowed, and her blue eyes held his, and he could tell instantly even through his own ecstasy, she was trying to gauge if she could trust his words.

He curled a hand around the back of her head and drew her head down to his, kissing her deeply, passionately.

“Trust me,” he said against her lips, then kissed her again. “Please trust me.”

She rose up again, then nodded, just the slight movement of her head, but he knew she meant the tentative agreement, and his heart seemed to swell in his chest.

He caught her hips and increased their speed until both of them were crying out their climax. She fell limply onto him, her body so soft and warm and his.

Drake Hanover hadn’t felt this way about a woman in centuries, and he didn’t plan to let her go. She’d learn to trust him. She’d fall for him like he was already falling for her.

Chapter Fifteen

WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE

LIZETTE wasn’t sure where she was going. To her hotel, she supposed, if she knew which direction that was. She was turned around. Looking right and left, she tried to figure out which way was Bourbon Street. If she found Bourbon, she could make her way back to her hotel, where she could pack and get the hell out of this crazy city. Blind panic was causing her to lose the ability to think or focus, and she realized after changing directions twice that her phone would guide her to the hotel with its navigation app.

Digging into her handbag, she scrambled for it, making a sound of distress the second she realized Johnny had followed her out of the bar. She knew she needed to deal with him, unfortunately. She needed to question him on his knowledge of local conspiracies and dangers, and she needed to lecture him about the inappropriateness of sharing their identity with mortals. She was going to need to report that fact back to the VA.

“Lizette! Wait! Where are you going?”

She thought about unleashing her anger on him in French, the English-speaking cad, but then she realized she wanted him to be able to understand everything she was saying. “I am going to my hotel and then I am leaving. I’ll be back in Paris by tomorrow night if I can arrange it.”

“I thought you were going to stay with me.” Johnny looked confused, which either made him an idiot of epic proportions or deliberately obtuse. She was starting to think it was the former.

“I am afraid that is not possible now that I know the truth!”

“What, that I can’t speak French? I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner, but at first I kind of nodded when you used it and you took it as understanding, and then I felt totally stupid telling you the truth.”

That sounded very much like the thought process he would follow. While she did appreciate his honesty—although it was rather late—that sort of behavior was at the crux of the problem, and the reason why she was feeling like she wanted to run away and hide in the forest for a decade. He spoke before he thought. He acted impulsively.