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the lightest of fingertips. Then those fingers found my breasts, and after a second he tugged my top out of my pants and began exploring territory he’d only visited briefly before. He liked what he found, if “Mmmmm” was a statement of delight. It spoke volumes to me.
    “I want to see you,” he said. “I want to see all of you.”
    I had never made love in the daytime before. It seemed very (excitingly) sinful to be struggling with buttons before the sun had even set, and I was so grateful I’d worn an extra-nice white lace bra and little bitty panties. When I dress up, I like to dress up all the way down to the skin.
    “Oh,” he said when he saw the bra, which contrasted nicely with my deep summer tan. “Oh, boy .” It wasn’t the words; it was the expression of deep admiration. My shoes were already off. Luckily that morning I’d dispensed with handy-but-totally-unsexy knee-high hose in favor of bare legs. Quinn spent some quality time nuzzling my neck and kissing his way down to the bra while I was struggling to undo his belt, though since he would bend while I was trying to deal with the stiff buckle, that wasn’t working out fast enough.
    “Take off your shirt,” I said, and my voice came out as hoarse as his. “I don’t have a shirt, you shouldn’t have a shirt.”
    “Fine,” he said, and presto, the shirt was off. You’d expect Quinn to be hairy, but he isn’t. What he is, is muscular to the n th degree, and right at the moment his olive skin was summer-tan. His nipples were surprisingly dark and (not so surprisingly) very hard. Oh, boy—right at my eye level. He began dealing with his own damn belt while I began to explore one hard nub with my mouth, the other with my hand. Quinn’s whole body jerked, and he stopped what he was doing. He ran his fingers into my hair to hold my head against him, and he sighed, though it came out more like a growl, vibrating through his body. My free hand yanked at his pants, and he resumed working on the belt but in an unfocused and distracted way.
    “Let’s move into the bedroom,” I said, but it didn’t come out like a calm and collected suggestion, more a ragged demand.
    He swooped me up, and I latched my arms around his neck and kissed him on his beautiful mouth again.
    “No fair,” he muttered. “My hands are full.”
    “Bed,” I said, and he deposited me on the bed and then simply fell on top of me.
    “Clothes,” I reminded him, but he had a mouthful of white lace and breast, and he didn’t reply. “Oh,” I said. I may have said “Oh” a few more times; and “Yes,” too. A sudden thought yanked me right out of the flow of the moment.
    “Quinn, do you have, you know…” I had never needed to have such items before, since vamps can’t get a girl pregnant or give her a disease.
    “Why do you think I still have my pants on?” he said, pulling a little package out of his back pocket. His smile this time was far more feral.
    “Good,” I said from my heart. I would have thrown myself from a window if we’d had to quit. “And you might take the pants off now.”
    I’d seen Quinn naked before but under decidedly stressful circumstances—in the middle of a swamp, in the rain, while we were being pursued by werewolves. Quinn stood by the bed and took off his shoes and socks and then his pants, moving slowly enough to let me watch. He stepped out of his pants, revealing boxer briefs that were suffering their own kind of stress. In one quick movement he eased them off, too. He had a tight, high butt, and the line from his hip to his thigh was just mouthwatering. He had fine, thin white scars striping him at random, but they seemed like such a natural part of him that they didn’t detract from his powerful body. I was kneeling on the bed while I admired him, and he said, “Now you.”
    I unhooked my bra and slid it off my arms, and he said, “Oh, God. I am the luckiest man alive.” After a pause, he said, “The rest.”
    I stood by