Free The Undead in My Bed by Katie MacAlister;Molly Harper;Jessica Sims Page A

I walked past him to the door.
    “Bully for you.” I stopped in front of Noelle and looked down at her, trying to read in her eyes that which I so desperately wanted to see.
    Her expression was inscrutable, although as I watched, the corners of her mouth began to curl up. I was distracted by the sight of her mouth, and the hunger within me came to life, swamping me with the pounding, insistent need to claim her in all the ways known to man and woman.
    Instantly, I was ravenous with hunger and rock hard with baser needs.
    “Oooh,” she said as I scooped her up and lurched painfully down the narrow hall toward the back stairs. “I like what you’re thinking. Feathers have been underused in sexual play, I’ve always felt.”
    I slid a glance down at her as I started up a flight of stairs toward my bedroom. “Just how much sexual play have you indulged in that you would feel so strongly about the subject?”
    “Are you by any chance asking me how many men I’ve slept with?”
    “Yes.”
    “I really don’t think that’s any of your business. I’m certainly not going to ask you how many women you’ve been with, so I don’t think it’s at all fair or even politically correct to inquire as to the number of my previous lovers. You do see, don’t you, that it’s what happens from here on out that’s important, not what happened in our past?”
    “Yes, I understand that.”
    She looked at me as I kicked open the door to the room that had been mine whenever I was at the Abbey, a little smile flirting with her lips. My erection went from rock hard to damn near impervious to a point-blank atomic blast.
    “How many?” I asked, setting her on her feet and immediately stripping her of her clothing.
    She giggled, damn her delicious hide. I had no resistance to such a feminine sound and only just managed to keep from pouncing on her. “Three. You?”
    “Does that matter?”
    “Oh, yes.” She leaned forward to nip my bottom lip. “What’s good for the goose and all that. How many, Gray?”
    I sighed, checked the bathroom to make sure Johannes wasn’t lurking about, then returned to find Noelle lying seductively on the bed. “Twenty-two, if you insist on knowing.”
    “Twenty-two… goodness!” She sat up, her breasts bobbing enticingly in front of me as I struggled to remove my trousers without simply shredding them off my body. “That’s a lot of women, Gray. I don’t think I like that number. When you compare three with twenty-two, well… that’s quite a difference.”
    “I was born in 1664,” I pointed out, finally wrestling my trousers off, eyeing her with indecision. Should I start with those delectable breasts and work my way down or begin at the shy, pink-tipped little toes and work upward?
    “Were you? That’s really neither here nor there, is it?” She did a little mental arithmetic. “Oh, I see what you mean. You’ve had relationships with an average of seven women every century.”
    “Whereas you’ve had three in less than approximately fifteen years,” I said, crawling onto the bottom of the bed, taking one ankle in hand, the sensation of her smooth, warm flesh driving the hunger and passion inside me even higher, until I thought I might fall into the deep, red well of need.
    “Twelve, actually. I’m thirty-one. Three makes me sound so very promiscuous,” she said thoughtfully, watching with interest as I struggled with the hunger, keeping my bites to gentle little nips as I kissed my way up first one calf, then the other. “Wanton, almost. Are we going to have oral sex?”
    I stopped licking behind her knee to look up as she lolled back on the pillows, her dark red curls tangled on the bed linens, desire mingling with expectation in her beautiful eyes. “We’re going to do whatever you like. You may command me.”
    “Really?” She smiled. “Then you’ll answer my questions about Amaymon and your parents and those other things that Nosty mentioned that had you looking like