FANGED

Chapter Seventeen

His mouth covered mine, stealing not only my argument, but my breath as well. The touch of his amazingly soft lips heated my skin as my blood raced like a thoroughbred through my veins. Holy Moses on a pogo stick! The man could kiss better than every James Bond and Jonny Depp combined. Not that I personally ever experienced a kiss from either of those men, but...hey...I am a woman. I might have imagined it a time or two...or three hundred. Whatever, don't judge me.

I opened my mouth to bite him on his full, pouty, delicious, intoxicating, bottom lip, but instead of chewing on it as if it was a piece of rawhide like I had planned, he slipped his tongue into my mouth. Drat! My knees turned into liquid Jell-O under me and, to my horror, a soft mewling sound escaped as he osculated me clueless.

I should be shoving him away with my hands, but the traitorous limbs they were attached to, rose up on their own accord and slid my hands through his glorious damp hair before looping them around his neck and pulling his mouth harder against mine. The bastards.

Suddenly, I felt one of his hands glide down to the small of my back, just above the curve of my ass and he pulled me even closer to him. His hard length pressed against my belly and I gasped at the feel of it. Warning alarms blared in my head as my conscious ran around in a frenzied panic like that robot from Lost in Space. Danger Will Robinson, danger!

His other hand clasped a handful of my hair at the nape. Gently, he pulled my head back so his evil mouth could run along the curve of my jaw and up to the delicate spot behind my ear.

"Do I feel like your enemy, Melanie?" he whispered, rubbing his nose lightly against the edge of my ear.

Ummm...no. Mmmm...he felt...heavenly. A shudder ran over me like a Mac truck and I could do nothing more but cling to his massive shoulders. My nails digging into his bare skin, leaving behind deep half-moon imprints. I tried to argue. Honestly, I had every intention of giving him a tongue lashing like he had never experienced. Only...yeah...my tongue was busy playing the tonsil tango with his.

I tried to pull my hands away, but they decided it would be a far better idea to tunnel under his shirt. The adulterous appendages skated eagerly down his chest, across his stomach and then dove under his muscle shirt like Jacques Cousteau. The enjoyment of feeling his muscles ripple and tighten under my searching palms totally fizzled out any coherent thought.

Naughty hands. I must stop...I must...stop. But my hands had become possessed with their own agenda and cruised over his abs, feeling each and every individual dip. Good lord, the man was smuggling paint rollers under his skin. I jerked my lips away from his and yanked his shirt up to see what my hands were feeling for myself. Sure enough...the vampire had an eight pack. Did he do crunches in his sleep or something?

"Do you like what you see?" he purred, chuckling at my wide eyed expression.

"Uh-huh," I mumbled before I could stop myself. Wait! "I mean...No!" The exclamation would have been far more believable if I hadn't kept nodding my head instead of shaking it. My eyes remaining glued to his mid-section.

"Would you like to take my shirt off?"

"What?" I reluctantly titled my head up towards his face. My eyes the very last to follow as I tugged them away from his abs.

"My shirt, Red. You can take it off." Fang smirked down at me, cocking that wicked little eyebrow at me.

Finally, my mind managed to break free from the gutter it had been doing the backstroke in and snapped back into focus. Jerking his shirt down, I stumbled back about two or three steps. Rubbing my hands against my jeans as if I could scrub away the tingling feeling on my palms from touching him.