Stakes & Stilettos - Michelle Rowen [40]
However, thinking about little facts like this wasn’t helping my heart rate go down from its current one-fifty. I was like a half-dressed hummingbird.
He moved as if to release his hold on me, but I grabbed his hand and pressed it against my chest again. He looked down at the connection, and then into my eyes.
“I never did get that chance to thank you for my beautiful new ring,” I said, and then reached around to the back of the dress and unzipped it. With a small shrug it slipped past my waist to pool on the floor at my feet.
Thierry’s gaze slid down the front of me. “Sarah…”
I brought his hand to my mouth and kissed it.
Then I moved my hands up into his dark hair and pressed my now dress-free body against him. Without my stilettos our seven-inch height difference was evident, but I could manage. I pulled his face closer to mine and brushed my lips against his.
“I love you,” I told him. “Even in this lousy little motel room.”
With a flick of my hands over his broad shoulders, I removed his expensive black jacket, which joined my dress on the white-tiled floor. It was Hugo Boss. He had ten of them exactly the same in the closet at his townhome. I’d counted. Then I pulled the black shirt out from his pants, unbuttoning it from the bottom to the top, and it joined the clothes party on the floor.
Thierry’s pale chest had a light sprinkling of dark hair on it. He was toned, but he didn’t have a bodybuilder physique, which was fine with me because I wasn’t into the big and bulky. His muscles were lean and hard and felt good under my touch. In the center of his chest were some faint scars left over from when he’d been human. He’d been left for dead when Veronique had found him and sired him. This was what was left from his own near-death experience at the hands of the people who’d nearly killed him. I kissed his chest, running my mouth over the scars.
Then I led him to the bed, and I sat down on it and slowly undid his belt. Black, of course, like the rest of his wardrobe. I slipped my hands under the waistband and slid his pants over his hips, and he leaned over and our lips met in a kiss that made my mind go blank to all other worries or stresses. When Thierry kissed me there was only him, the taste of him, and the need for more and more.
After a moment he broke off the kiss, but kept his mouth close to mine so I could feel his warm breath on my lips. “It’s been a difficult evening. If you wish to wait until we get back to Toronto, I would understand.”
I grinned at him. “And let this fabulous room go to waste?”
I scooted back a bit to make room for him and felt the bed dip as he kneeled on it in front of me.
“An excellent point.” He lowered himself on top of me and I felt his hot mouth slide over my collarbone, then down to my breasts. My hands tangled in his hair. He trailed his hands lower over my abdomen to the top of my panties, which he quickly and efficiently disposed of. They were red to match the dress, because matching underwear to outerwear is very important to me, for some strange reason.
I loved it when he touched me like this. His hands and mouth could do things to me that they should teach men in school. I arched off the bed and stifled a gasp at his intimate touch. After a moment he returned to my mouth and kissed me so deeply I thought I would pass out.
“Thierry—” I kissed him back just as hard and wrapped myself around him to pull his body even closer.
I will tell you a secret about Thierry de Bennicoeur. Being a master vampire automatically made him cool with his emotions and actions. It was difficult to get used to, since I was accustomed to dealing with such things as blind dates who wanted to get into my pants an hour into the first date.
Thierry wasn’t like that. He was respectful. He was cool and reserved. He was—
I moaned as he slowly entered me.
—he was a freaking sex god.
Some relationships got boring after a while. The physical relationship gets tired and dull. But every