Read Why These Two for Free Online

Unconscious?”
    “Yes. You. Call it a faint, if that sounds better.”
    “No, that doesn’t sound better.”
    “It was my fault, I think. I shouldn’t have carried you that way. It cuts off blood to the brain. Or something. I don’t know all the particulars, but trust me. You were unconscious. Made it easier to carry you that way. Garnered less uh…interest.”
    “Oh hell. Don’t tell me somebody saw that.”
    “Only my landlady. And she advised me to have fun tonight before waving me in. By the way…I intend to.”
    Darryl frowned. It didn’t match anything else on his body. And if she were a little nearer, he’d be proving it. And that idea had to end. Now.
    “Who undressed me then?”
    “Oh. I did. It was my pleasure, too. Truly. You are a very well-developed male. Strong. Big.”
    Her voice held a bit of awe. He almost flexed his upper body at what sounded like praise. That was more stupidity. Get a grip, Bailes . This bitch is a vampire. She’s dead. Having sex with her is out of the question. End of story.
    “You put your skin through a lot of trauma, though. Is that a military thing?”
    “Trauma?”
    “You have a lot of…tattoos.”
    “You don’t like my ink?”
    “I didn’t say that. I find them…interesting. Visually stimulating. Physically stirring. Especially the one on your…right side. Beneath your arm. That one.”
    Just the thought of her looking and maybe tracing the rose-wrapped sword design added something more to the scene. He should be shuddering with revulsion and horror, not tensing with excitement and something very close to desire and want. Why the hell didn’t his body listen?
    “Where are my clothes?”
    His voice was gruff. Thick. Hard. It matched the rest of him. He’d have pulled the hand-made, pieced quilt to his chin, except the wad of material at his groin was good camouflage.
    She walked through the space between him and the fire, the light molded on creamy flesh and really ripe breasts. Darryl rolled onto his side, ignoring the twinge of his old injury, to keep her in view. She reached a large, carved, free-standing wardrobe. Opened both doors, pulled out a dowel holding a row of shirts, another dowel appeared to hold a selection of large sized jackets, and then she slid out a drawer to lift pair after pair of slacks before replacing them.
    He couldn’t tell. Something in there might be the outfit he’d been wearing.
    “I just need mine, Lady,” he said.
    “These are all yours.”
    “Bullshit. With a capital B.”
    “I bought them just for you. Trust me.”
    “Look. Lady.”
    He sat up. That was probably a mistake. He hadn’t kept the quilt for protection, he hadn’t lost his six-pack from the service – if anything due to his extreme physical therapy sessions it was more defined, and he hadn’t counted on going on display in the firelight. He watched her eyes narrow and then she licked her lips. And then she shuddered. All of it extremely visual. And stirring. He should probably look at something else. And if he trusted her, he would.
    “They don’t carry my size in any shops around here.”
    “Oh. No. Not up here. I had these special ordered. Express delivered.”
    “Special ordered. Express.”
    “Yes. From that night in Columbia. Where we met…”
    Her voice took on a dream-tone, going lower. Softer. Sending signals his body didn’t have any trouble deciphering. He pulled muscles taut to stop the flow of blood downward. It didn’t work. He was elongating and hardening, and finding sexual stimuli from where the quilt cradled him. He almost shoved deeper into it. No wonder Grandmas put these on their own beds. He had to clear his throat to get his voice to work.
    “You don’t know my size.”
    “47 Chest. 33 Waist. 16-1/2 neck. 35-1/2 sleeve. 36 Inseam. How am I doing?”
    “Unbelievable.”
    “Are you ready to talk yet?”
    She went across his vision again, and sat on the foot of the bed, just this side of grabbing range. Her thighs