Dee wrenched on the water and, with his temperamental faucet, it flew everywhere. But she didn’t so much as flinch beneath the lash of what he knew to be icy cold water. Simon stalked closer and watched as she grabbed his soap and began to all but scrub the flesh off her fingers.
After about five minutes, he told her, “I think you’ve got it.”
She stiffened. Dropped the soap. The rush of the water seemed too loud to him. Always did, though.
“Check me.” She growled the words. “I’ve got to know.”
He eased up behind her, and he saw her elbow move as she turned off the water. But Dee didn’t turn to face him.
The lights blazed in the small bathroom, giving him a perfect view of her body. Small, fragile…sexy. Even though she was small, the woman really had a fine ass. Maybe it was those panties. They hugged her curves so very, very well.
“Simon.”
His fingertips skimmed her shoulders. “Hold still.”
He caught the sharp inhalation of her breath. His gaze lifted from that sweet ass and scanned the rest of her body. Okay, his c**k was so hard that it was about to bust through his jeans, but he’d hold onto control and manage to focus for a while. He had to, for her.
This—his fingers trailed over her small shoulder blades—was important. To her and to him.
Because if she’d been bitten, then she’d been compromised. She’d be a risk to herself, to her friends.
To him.
Not that a bite would change his plans. No way would he abandon her now. Not when he’d really just found her.
“The bra’s got to come off.” Guttural. Too bad. Not like he could manage much more than that. Simon figured he was lucky to be able to speak right then. His fingers slipped under the straps, then trailed down to the hook. If the vamps had fed on her, they would have tried to hide the mark.
They wouldn’t want her aware.
The better to keep track, to torment.
He unhooked the snap. Pushed the bra off her shoulders and let it fall.
Simon had one damn good idea why the vamps had let Dee keep breathing and why they’d tried to set her up.
Word on the street was that certain vamps had plans for Sandra Dee. Plans of pain and madness.
Death would have been too easy.
His mouth hovered over her, right above her shoulder. The skin looked so tender. He could—
“What do you see?”
Simon jerked back. “Let me check your front.”
A huff, but she spun around.
His eyes widened when he saw her tight ni**les. Still wet from the spray of water. Pointed, arching right up to him.
Fuck. The woman had a concussion for shit’s sake. He couldn’t devour her now, no matter how hungry he might feel.
He wasn’t that much of a bastard.
Was he?
Her hands clamped on him. “Check.” Breathy there. Hungry—just like me.
Because she felt it, too. The lancing heat of lust. Always there. When she was close, he burned.
He slapped his hands against the sink, caging her. He let his eyes touch her flesh, the way his hands and mouth wanted to do so badly. “Lift your arms.”
Of course, the move just made those br**sts arch more.
Dammit. Con-cus-sion.
His gaze raked across her flat stomach. Down to the black bikini panties.
“Trust me, Simon, I’d know if I’d been bitten there.”
His lips curved. Couldn’t help that. “Fair enough.” He sure didn’t need that sensual temptation then, anyway.
He wrapped his hands around her waist and he lifted her. He put her down on the counter—probably with a bit too much force—and reached for her legs.
“Simon.”
He pinned her with his stare. “You wanted this.”
A grim nod. Her pupils were too big. Her eyes so dark. Almost like a vampire’s. Almost.
He caught her right leg. Curved his fingers around the flesh and stroked upward. No breaks in the skin. No tears. No blood.
Her skin was so silken and soft. As he touched her, his heart slammed into his ribs. Simon pressed a kiss against her thigh. Can’t help it.
A soft rasp came from Dee.
His fingers stilled around her knee. “If I find something, what are you gonna do?”
Her lips parted.
The question had to be asked. Had to be. His fingers rose.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll get as far away from those bastards as I can.”
Good. The more distance, the less control they’d have. A lesson he knew well.
“Did you find something?” She whispered and there was a quaver of fear in that husky voice.
“Not yet.” He caught her left leg. Stroked her calf, worked up her leg and curved his fingers over her thigh. “I don’t think they touched you.”
They wouldn’t have dared. Not if they were following orders, and he suspected that there were definite orders out for Dee.
They’d jerked her around. Had their fun.
Break her, but don’t taste. Not yet.
An old order he’d once heard a vampire give. Sick bastard.
He left his hand on her thigh. Such smooth skin. Such strong muscle beneath the silk.
His teeth ground together. Only one more place to check, and she’d already told him that sweet spot was off limits. “You’re clear,” he gritted and shoved back.
Dee blinked at him. Then her gaze dropped, fell to his crotch, to the bulging hard-on he knew there was no hope of hiding.
Not like he wanted to hide the thing anyway. He wanted Dee. He’d have her. But not when she was still spinning from an attack.
He stepped back, giving her some room, and yanked off his shirt. Simon stared at those br**sts. Want them in my mouth. Her scent surrounded him. That deep, rich scent that was Dee.
His c**k throbbed.
Could have found her corpse. The stake could have been lodged in her heart.
Then what the hell would I have done?
What. The. Hell?
Simon tossed Dee his shirt. “Cover up.” The thing would swallow her.
Her fingers fisted in the material, catching it easily. “Simon, I—”
“Get. Dressed.” He sucked in a harsh gulp of air. “Or get f**ked because, babe, it is a very near thing.” A gentleman, no, he’d never been that. The woman might not realize it, but he was trying for her.
Trying to protect her. From the freaks out there who were after her, and even from himself.
Slowly, taking her sweet time about it, Dee stuck her arms into the sleeves of the shirt. She hadn’t put her bra back on—what, did she want to torture him? He could see the tips of her ni**les and he hadn’t gotten to taste them and—