“How are you still tired?” Ian asked, a baffled expression on his face as he watched her yawn for the fifth time in two minutes. “You slept for ten hours.”
“It was eight, and I have lots of missed sleep to make up,” she explained, interrupting her own words with yet another yawn. “You don’t have to stay with me, you know.”
“I know.” Despite his words, Ian still matched her steps as they trudged through the snow away from the chicken coop. Jack danced in excited circles around them. “I want to. Besides, I need to get back on a non-vampire schedule. Next shift, I’m on days.”
“That must be hard.” She stopped abruptly for a moment to avoid tripping over Jack. He galloped away, and she started walking again. “Switching back and forth like that.”
Ian shrugged. “We have four days to adjust. I’d rather do that than work only days or only nights.”
“Aren’t you tired at all?” She eyed his face in the weak light. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains, leaving only a gray dimness.
“I could sleep a little more,” he admitted.
Rory interpreted that as manly man speak for “I’m still exhausted but won’t admit it.”
As they climbed the back steps, he asked, “Are you opening the shop tomorrow?”
“Yes.” She dug out her keys from her pocket and unlocked the dead bolts. As soon as Ian caught the edge of the door, Rory moved to disarm the alarm. “I’m tempted to keep it closed one more day so I can clean”—they both glanced around the still-bloodied back room—“but I’ve been shut down too many days already.”
“I can help you clean tomorrow,” he offered.
“Just what you want to do on your day off,” she mocked, heading straight for the bookshelf hiding the steel door. “Scrubbing brain matter off the walls.”
“What I want to do”—he’d done that thing again, where he snuck up behind her and spoke quietly into her ear—“is to stay with you. I don’t care what I have to do to get that. I’m fine with dealing with biohazards if I can do it with you close by.”
Flushing, she ducked her chin and concentrated on punching in the correct code. It was harder than it should’ve been. Rory wondered if this mixture of giddiness and shyness was normal. “Lock the back door, would you?”
“Already done.” His breath tickled the edge of her ear, and she hunched a shoulder as goose bumps prickled her skin.
To her relief—and disappointment—the last of the locks gave way, and she escaped through the steel door. It was only a brief respite from her tumultuous feelings, since Ian followed her.
“I’ll get the lock,” he said, turning back to the door.
She didn’t argue. Instead, she scampered down the stairs, needing a second alone to compose herself. In the kitchen, she leaned her forehead against the wall and took a deep breath. She didn’t recognize this fluttery, needy twit she’d become, and she wasn’t sure what to think. Practical, straightforward Rory was someone with whom she was comfortable. Swoony, googly-eyed Rory, not so much.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Pushing away from the wall, she headed for the fridge. “I’m going to feed Jack. Did you need anything?” After the huge meal they’d just had at his place, she would be surprised if he was hungry again.
“I’m good.”
When he yawned loudly, she gave him a narrowed-eyed look. “Don’t start.” Rory bit back her own, answering yawn. “It’s catching.”
He grinned. “Sorry.” As she put Jack’s food in a bowl and set it on the floor, Ian remained quiet. There was a weight to the silence, though, that made her look at him curiously.
“What?” she finally asked.
“Can I sleep in the pink bed? We can even set up the bunny wall again.”
Rory forced a scowl, even though she really wasn’t annoyed. Having him in her bed had felt cozy and comforting. She’d expected sharing a bed would’ve been weird and sleep-disrupting, but it was nice—really nice—having Ian with her while she slept. “I suppose it’s the least I can do if you’re going to be scrubbing disgusting things off my walls tomorrow.”
“Darn straight.” A small smile played around his mouth as he leaned his shoulders against the wall. “So what do you do in the evenings, since you don’t have a TV?”
She shrugged. She felt a little awkward standing in front of the fridge, so she imitated his stance and leaned back against it. “Depends on what needs doing. I’ll clean and oil my own guns, or do bookkeeping stuff for the shop. Sometimes I’ll just mess around on the internet, clean the house, cook, read, sew…whatever.”
When he pushed off the wall and stalked toward her, she froze. If he were ever to attack her, she’d be a goner for sure, since he seemed to erase all her flight-or-fight instincts. He stood in front of her, too close as usual, and caught her arm gently at the elbow. His hand traced the length of her forearm, across her wrist, and finally tangled his fingers with her own.
Stepping back, he tugged her with him. Rory followed, as if she were the rat to his Pied Piper. His eyes stayed focused on hers as he drew her into the living room toward the couch. “You still tired?” he asked.
“Uh…no.” With her heart pounding as it was, sleepiness was the last thing she felt.
As if he could read her thoughts, he smiled, a wicked and slightly smug tilt of his mouth. “Good.”
Ian sat, pulling her down beside him. Her heart started pounding in anticipation of what was to come. Now that she’d experienced what it was like to make out with Ian, she wanted him, wanted that closeness.
Instead of kissing her, though, Ian just sat back against the couch, stroking his thumb over her hand. “This is nice, just having a minute to breathe. Lately, I feel like we’re either in the middle of a crisis or exhausted from the aftermath.”
At the word “breathe,” Rory did, exhaling the air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her shoulders settled against the back of the couch as she relaxed. “It is,” she said. “Nice, I mean.”
“Want to go to Levi’s after the shop closes tomorrow night?” He stretched out his socked feet and got comfortable. With a gentle tug, he pulled her against his side. She slowly relaxed against him. Releasing her hand, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and closed his eyes.
Once her heartbeat settled a little, she recalled the question he’d just asked. “Um, I don’t know. Everyone will be staring and crawling into our booth and asking questions. I mean, even before everything happened, we still had half the restaurant at our table.”
“True,” he agreed without opening his eyes. “Might be good to get it over with, though. Just deal with everyone at once while we eat some good barbecue.”
She made a noncommittal sound. Eating in the midst of those rapacious eyes and needling questions sounded a little hellish to her. Ian was right, though—sooner or later, whether it was at the post office or grocery store or coffee shop, the citizens of Simpson would corner her. At least at Levi’s, she’d have Ian at her back. “Let’s see how we feel tomorrow evening.”
From the way his grunt sounded, he was more than halfway to sleeping. Soon, his breathing changed, grew deeper and slightly louder, and his arm weighted more heavily on her shoulders. Rory melted against his side, turning slightly to get more comfortable. He was angled into the corner of the couch, and she curled against him, resting her hand in the middle of his chest and her cheek in the hollow beneath his shoulder.
His heart beat under her palm, slow and strong. His chest rose with each breath, lifting her hand and head with it. She smiled. Although she’d never been to either coast, she imagined that was how it felt to be brought up and lowered by ocean waves. Soothed by the motion, Rory didn’t even have to mentally fieldstrip any guns in order to fall asleep.
* * *
Rave and Billy stood by her bed, looking down at her paralyzed form.
“Poison or bullet?” Billy asked in a conversational tone.
“Shoot her.” Rave had cloudy, dead-man’s eyes. “I want to watch the bitch bleed.”
Rory woke and jumped to her feet in the same jolt.
“What’s wrong?” Ian was standing next to her almost instantly, his voice sounding wide-awake.
“Nothing.” She was sweating and breathing hard. There was no way to control the perspiration, but she made an effort to slow her inhalations, counting to four before she allowed the air to escape. “Just a bad dream. Sorry.”
“Sh—oot.” He blew out a hard breath and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She must have startled him, because she could feel his heart pounding at twice its normal pace. “No need to be sorry. You couldn’t help having a nightmare. After everything, it’d be strange if you were dreaming about ponies and ice cream.”
Pulling away from him enough that she could see his face, she raised her eyebrows. “Ponies and ice cream? Is that what your happy dreams are about?”
He grinned, his eyes lighting with that wicked spark. “Nah. My best dreams are more along the lines of—”
“Okay!” she interrupted, having a feeling his words would result in some serious blushing if she allowed him to finish. “What time is it?”
“Without windows, it could be noon, for all we know.” He glanced at his watch. “Or it could be one in the morning.”
Tipping her head to the side to stretch her neck, she winced when vertebrae popped. “Probably good that I woke us before we spent the whole night on the couch. We’d have been stiff and sore tomorrow.”
His hands slid up her back and landed on her shoulders, where he began to knead the tight muscles.
“Oh!” She was startled at first, but then she relaxed into the massage. “Oh, that feels really good.”
“You sound surprised,” he said, his voice husky. “Haven’t you ever had a shoulder rub before?”
Rory closed her eyes and leaned back into his touch. He hit a knot at the base of her neck, which made her jump and then moan in pleasure as it loosened. “No. It hurts a little, but it feels incredible at the same time. No wonder people pay for this.”
“Sometime when it’s not the middle of the night, I’ll have you lie down on the bed so I can do it right.” The heat in his voice sent a shock of desire through her, so strong it startled her, and she pulled away. His hands slipped off her shoulders, and she swallowed a regretful whimper at the loss.
“Right,” she said, jittery with want and not knowing how to act. All her feelings were so new and huge and overwhelming, and she knew she was screwing up everything. “It’s night. So…bed?”
“Bed.” His hands returned to her shoulders, this time to turn her toward the bedroom. She resisted begging him to resume the shoulder rub.
Ian headed for the bathroom, so she quickly changed into pajamas. As she automatically headed toward “her” side of the bed, he returned, stripped down to his underwear. Rory averted her eyes so she wouldn’t stare. She was struck by how easy it was to fall into the pattern of sleeping with Ian. It had just been a short time ago that the idea of even bringing him into her underground bunker had scared the bejesus out of her, and now it felt like he fit. Crawling under the covers, she glanced over to where he was stacking pillows between them.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, rolling onto her side.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He sounded pleased as he tossed the few pillows aside. “I won’t try anything.”
Her face flamed, and her throat locked, keeping her from responding. To her relief, he didn’t seem to expect an answer. When he reached to turn off the light, his muscles were clearly delineated under his skin, and she watched them stretch and flex with his movement. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to turn over onto her other side so her back faced the mesmerizing show.
Darkness settled over the room, and the bed moved as he settled. “Good night.”
“’Night.”
After several minutes of silence, Rory’s eyes were beginning to close again. As she drifted into a half sleep, she vaguely felt him shift before a wall of heat pressed against her back. It felt wonderful. She wiggled a little closer to that source of warmth and heard his breath catch. His hand touched her waist almost tentatively, and she went still, suddenly wide-awake. When he started to withdraw, she grabbed his hand and held it in place.
“Ror, are you sure?”
“Positive.” Her voice shook just a little.
“I can wait.” Despite the words, his fingers curled around her hip. “We don’t have to do this tonight.”
“I don’t want to wait anymore.” Her heart crashed against her ribs in a flurry of nervous excitement. The feel of him pressed against her back and his hand smoothing over the curve of her hip made her feel a strange combination of safe and cared for and so aroused she didn’t think she could wait another second.
Twisting her head, she kissed him before her nerve could fail her and self-consciousness return. It was rough and clumsy for only a split second before they both found their footing and the kiss smoothed into a thing of beauty. There was a difference to this kiss, though. It was more intense, as if they both knew the decision had been made. She turned onto her back, and he moved above her, never breaking their contact.
He kept it at kissing, though, catching her hands when they attempted to stray. The anticipation was killing her, shredding her patience and her confidence. In a state of frazzled nerves, she bit down on his bottom lip. He jerked and then moaned, pressing her back against the bedding, his kiss turning frenzied.
A wave of need rushed over her, drowning out any rational thoughts. He knelt, his knees braced on either side of her waist, and lifted the hem of her pajama shirt. Without hesitating, she raised her upper body and then her arms, allowing Ian to pull off her top. When the cool air hit her bare breasts, she paused, testing her own response. Although she should’ve been freaked, she realized she was mostly feeling relieved. She had wanted Ian for so long; no amount of inexperience could make her retreat now. This was happening, and Rory was glad.
Her nerve bolstered by that realization, she reached for the waistband of Ian’s boxer briefs.
“Whoa.” His hands covered hers, stilling them. “That’s kind of like the abandon-all-hope-ye-who-enter-here point, understand?”
Although she was too tense to actually laugh, her snort was amused. “Understood.”
Watching her carefully, he slowly lifted his hands. She tugged down the fabric to his thighs, and the heat in his eyes flared red-hot.
“Okay,” he breathed, and then he was kissing her again.
If she’d thought he was out of control earlier, he was beyond restraint now. Without moving his ravenous mouth from hers, he stretched out on top of her again. Rory braced for his weight, but Ian caught himself on his hands before he crushed her.
The kissing continued, and, at one point, Rory realized that he’d removed the remainder of both of their clothes without her noticing. She had a moment of self-consciousness at being naked beneath him, but that slid away quickly. His hands were everywhere, leaving their usual trail of fire. Hers were locked around his neck, holding on too tightly to explore.
He kissed his way over her sternum and between her breasts. Her body vibrated with tension, waiting for him to go left or right, to find the aching center of either of her breasts. Instead, he went directly to her belly button and she made a disappointed sound.
“Did I miss something?” he asked with put-on innocence.
“Yes,” she said, tugging at his hair in a futile effort to make him shift to her needy breasts.
He laughed, an almost soundless, husky chuckle. “Where did I miss? Here?” Dropping a light kiss on her lower ribs, he looked at her teasingly. She resisted the urge to growl in frustration.
Releasing his head as an idea occurred to her, she brushed her hands over her chest. “Here.” Her voice came out throaty and unintentionally sexy. Her breasts lit with pleasure, and she ran her fingers over their peaks again, arching into her own touch.
“Rory,” Ian hissed, right before sucking a nipple into his mouth. He definitely wasn’t teasing anymore. His touch was so much more intense than her own. Burying her fingers in his short, unruly black hair again, she pulled him tighter to her, completely unable to control the hungry noises she made.
Pushing himself up so he hovered above her, he stared down at her. “God, Rory. You’re so beautiful, so perfect.”
Flushing under the compliments, she couldn’t manage a response beyond an awkward smile. His attentions had left her worked up and able to think about only one thing. After a gentle but thorough kiss, he left her for a minute to dig a condom from a wallet in the pocket of his abandoned pants, but his weight was pressing her into the mattress again before she could even get chilled.
This is it, she thought, bracing herself, but he just started kissing her again, as if he had all the time in the world. Supporting his weight on one elbow, he used his other hand to explore, finding all the places that made her skin ignite.
By the time his fingers slipped between her legs, she was sweating and squirming and more than ready. Still, though, he kept his touch careful. Rory began to worry that he was too relaxed. How could he be kissing her in that leisurely way while she was ready to explode? She turned her head away, and he pulled back so he could look at her.
“What’s wrong?”
She met his eyes—his heavy-lidded, passion-filled, smoldering eyes—and her worries instantly dissolved. It was obvious he was just as excited as she was, but he was being patient for her sake. “Nothing. I’m just… I’m ready.”
“Sure?” he asked, gravel roughening his voice, and she felt a flare of last-minute nerves and doubt. He waited, though, watching her evenly, until she nodded. Then his eyes lit with happiness and heat, and he carefully entered her.
It hurt at first. She stiffened, and Ian froze in place, sweating and wild-eyed, until she gave him a shaky, “Okay.” Then he moved, holding her gaze the entire time, and it was painful, and then less painful, and then just strange feeling, and then it was almost…nice. He shifted positions slightly, and then it started feeling really nice.
“Oh!” The pleasure startled her. Ian paused at her outburst to study her face more closely. He must’ve seen her enjoyment, because he bared his teeth in a grin and started moving again. Heat grew in her belly as his mouth descended on hers. She dug her fingers into the muscles connecting his shoulders to his neck as she returned the kiss fiercely. Why had she waited so long to feel this amazing connection with Ian?
He pulled back again so he could watch her. With each minute change of speed or angle, he examined her expression, as if learning what she liked and what she didn’t. Having him direct such focused attention on her, showing that he cared so much how she felt, was intoxicating. Then the pleasure increased, stealing all her conscious thoughts.
The sensations started to build, growing and growing until her skin couldn’t contain them any longer. It felt so good, so intense, that it frightened her a little, but Ian held her eyes as her pleasure sharpened to a peak. Despite his reassuring gaze, the explosion that radiated through her took her by surprise, making her shout and clutch him until she slowly returned to earth.
He finished just after she did, and it was her turn to watch his expression as he came. It was a powerful feeling, to make someone experience such intense pleasure. He rested his forehead on the mattress above her shoulder, and she massaged his scalp as he panted for breath.
After a short time, he lifted his head so he could meet her eyes. “You okay?” he asked.
Rory smiled. “That was fun.”
He gave a startled bark of laughter and then rolled them so she was on top of him, straddling his waist. “Good.”
Feeling extra naked and exposed, she tried to cross her arms over her chest. Ian caught her hands before she could and kissed both palms, one at a time.
“Don’t hide,” he told her sincerely. “You’re perfect.”
She snorted. “I’m not even close to perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” he insisted, pulling on her hands until she leaned down for a kiss. When they finally came up for air, he met her eyes. “I’ve thought so ever since the day I gave you that cupcake.”
Giving him a shy smile, Rory said, “You’re pretty perfect yourself. I’ll never forget that cupcake.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Unable to hold his gaze anymore, she dropped her eyes to his throat. “Why do you think I like the color pink so much?”
When he was quiet, she snuck a glance at his expression. His eyes were on fire. “I fu—freaking love you, Rory.”
Her throat locked before she could return the sentiment, and then he was kissing her desperately, as if he would never be able to stop. She didn’t mind—an eternity of kissing Ian was acceptable to her.