Deadly Desire (Riley Jenson Guardian 7)

"Totally," he agreed, a smile crinkling the corners of his blue eyes. "Unlike some guardians who just love to hear the sound of their own voice."

"And this is wrong because...?"

He made what sounded like a disgusted snort and shook his head. "You can leave anytime you want."

"You know, the amusement that still lingers on your lips is spoiling the whole stern effect you're trying for there."

"Riley, stop being a pain and go."

I went.

It didn't take all that long to drive back to Quinn's, but finding parking anywhere near the hotel, even at this hour, was a pain. I eventually gave up and just dragged out my Directorate parking tag. They might be for use only in emergencies, but hey, this was.

There was no one in the lobby, though I could hear voices in the office near the desk. I took the elevator up to Quinn's suite and walked down the plush, carpeted hallway to his door, dragging my key out of my pocket and swiping it through the reader.

The door clicked open. "You're back early," Quinn said, the rich Irish lilt in his voice sending shivers of delight down my spine.

He came out of the bedroom as I closed the front door, as naked as the day he was born. I couldn't help smiling. I'd once thought of this vampire as staid, but I'd learned over the past few weeks that staid only applied to new relationships. Once he knew-and, I suspected, trusted-his partner, he was as adventurous as any wolf could want.

He was also gorgeous.

It wasn't a term I often used to describe men, but with Quinn, it just fit. With his thick, black hair, sinfully dark eyes set in a face that would make angels envious, and an athlete's body, he was so easy on the eye it was dangerous.

And he was mine to play with. The thought made me want to dance.

"I thought you'd be gone most of the night."

"Thank God I wasn't."

He raised an eyebrow, dark eyes glittering with amusement and awareness. "Oh? Why's that?"

He was an empath, so he knew exactly what I was feeling, even if he was playing dumb. "Because of this."

I pressed a hand against his chest and pushed him back against the wall. Then I claimed his lips, kissing him like my life depended on it. Kissing him hard and urgently, until the taste of Kye was erased and my skin burned with the need for vampire rather than wolf.

"My, my," he murmured, when he could. "Chasing bad guys doesn't usually generate this sort of reaction. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"It wasn't chasing the bad guys, it was meeting another wolf. Now shut up and get down to business."

He grinned and did as he was bid.

And oh, it was good. Not just the way his hands caressed me as he stripped off my clothes, but the smell of him, the feel of him, the press of flesh against flesh. The way his body shuddered as I caressed and nipped him, the taste of his sweat on my tongue.

Then he was in me, filling me, liquefying me. I groaned in sheer pleasure and wrapped my body around his, holding us both still, enjoying the feel of his body pressed against mine and the heat of him deep inside. There was something so very perfect about the way we fit together, something magical. And it went beyond the physical-it was almost as if we were matched body and soul.

Almost.

As his lips claimed mine again, he began to move, gently at first but quickly becoming faster, until it was all heat and desperate need. The rich ache blossomed, becoming a kaleidoscope of delicious sensations that washed through every corner of my mind. I gasped, holding onto him tighter, wanting it faster, needing it harder. Needing him, and all he could give me. Then everything broke and I was unraveling, and there was no thought, only waves of glorious sensation that went on and on.

He came with me, and as his seed poured into me, his teeth grazed my neck and broke through flesh. A second orgasm hit, the intensity of it stealing my breath and my sanity for too many seconds, the power of it rolling on and on.

I rested my forehead against his and blew out a breath. "That was fantastic."

"That's one way of describing it," he said, voice amused as he lowered me back to the ground. "So, who's the wolf I should thank for this sudden rush of enthusiasm?"

I grinned as I stepped over my clothes and headed toward the coffee machine. Once upon a time, Quinn's voice would have held more than a hint of annoyance while asking such a question, but he seemed to have relaxed a little in recent weeks. Part of this might have been because while I hadn't entirely given up my werewolf ways, I'd willingly restricted them. But I also think the mere fact that we were spending real time together out of the bedroom had helped our understanding of each other.

"The wolf's name is Kye Murphy. He's a bounty hunter, and he's after the witch who's raising the zombies."