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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 nth 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 the bed and eased the little white lacey things off.
    "This is like standing in front of a buffet," he said. "I don't know where to begin."
    I touched my breasts. "First course," I suggested.
    I discovered that Quinn's tongue was just a bit raspier than a regular man's. I was gasping and making incoherent noises when he moved from my right breast to my left as he tried to decide which one he liked best. He couldn't make up his mind immediately, which was fine with me. By the time he settled on the right breast, I was pushing against him and making sounds that couldn't be mistaken for anything but desperate.
    "I think I'll skip the second course and go right to dessert," he whispered, his voice dark and ragged. "Are you ready, babe? You sound ready. You feel ready."
    "I am so ready," I said, reaching down between us to wrap my hand around his length. He quivered all over when I touched him. He rolled on the condom.
    "Now," he growled. "Now!" I guided him to my entrance, thrust my hips up to meet him. "I dreamed of this," he said, and shoved inside me up to the hilt. That was the last thing either of us was able to say.
    Quinn's appetite was as outstanding as his equipment.
    He enjoyed dessert so much, he came back for