All The King's Men - On HOLD

Ten Years

Chapter 4 – Ten Years

Claire

I stepped out of the shower in the tiny steam-filled bathroom. Amelie had offered us a house years ago, but what would have been the point given the amount of hours Myrnin worked in the lab? And the lab had always felt like 'home' to us. I smiled to myself. It was where we fit, tiny bathroom and all.

Squeezing the excess water out of my shoulder length auburn hair, I quickly dried my body and wrapped the towel into a turban on my head. I was already close to being late and needed to get moving, eager to get to work as a Physics Professor at the local college, Texas Prairie University.

As soon as I emerged from the bathroom to look for clothes for the day, I knew my goal of being on time was going to be sorely tested. Because Myrnin was staring at my naked body with the look. You know the one - hungry with a side of desire.

I held my palm in the air and tried to head him off at the path, "Wait! No...I have to go to work."

He pouted, "But you're already wet."

I rolled my eyes.

"Some of us do not get to make our own work schedules," I reminded him. It was a good thing he had that flexibility, because he was the poster child for a vampire with ADD tendencies. God forbid the smallest distraction capture his attention, like his newest spider Bob XVI run across the floor in search of a meal. Because Myrnin would take off in a heartbeat, chasing the not-so-tiny mutant insect, cooing pretty little words of encouragement to coax it where it clearly did not want to go, back into its cage.

"I'm sure your students would not be annoyed in the least, if you were just a little late," he tried another angle.

I snorted, "No, I'm certain they wouldn't care, but I need to set a good example."

With unquenchable determination, he purred, "They would likely be impressed if they knew the reason for your tardiness...And possibly even encouraged that people your age, are still going strong."

What the hell??

Clearly, he had finally lost his damn mind. I narrowed my eyes and asked dangerously, "My age?"

Unaffected by my pending ire, he casually explained, "You know what I mean. It gives them hope for their own future sexual potential."

"No...It gives them large therapy bills after being subjected to details of my sex life," I countered.

He smirked, "I promise the guys wouldn't need therapy, well maybe the one-handed kind, but that would only take a minute and then they would be good as new."

"Ugh, I did not need that mental picture. Now I am going to need therapy," I whined.

"I can help you with that," his voice lowered huskily. He stood from the bed, his irises dilating black in calculation.

I inhaled sharply.

His entire demeanor had changed. Gone was the playful flirtation; aggressive and demanding seduction taking its place.

I was going to be late. Shit.

He growled low, "What kind of therapy would you like? The kind where I go slow, working your body into a frenzy of anticipation, touching and licking your skin until you can't take it anymore and beg me to make you come?"

Stunning heat pushed through my veins as my chest heaved to keep up. Still, I tried to hold my ground and stuttered, "No...No time...I have to go."