Free Bittersweet Blood by Nina Croft Page A

with huge sofas upholstered in scarlet silk.
    Was that to hide the bloodstains in case it got messy?
    Though she was pretty sure Christian would never be so unsophisticated as to spill his food.
    Candles flickered all around the room. An ice bucket stood on the small table, containing a bottle of champagne, and next to it two champagne flutes. She wouldn’t be touching that. Whatever happened tonight she was determined to be conscious throughout it.
    “Did Graham tell you I wanted to talk about my aunt?” She stared around the room again. “Do you often conduct your business meetings by candlelight?”
    He smiled. “Are you worried what my intentions might be?”
    The worry factor took second place to a slow burning rise of excitement that twisted her insides. Her blood thundered through her veins, and her heart pounded.
    “Are you hungry?” he asked. “Can I get you anything to eat?”
    “No.” She peered at him sharply. “Are you?”
    He chuckled and looked her up and down very slowly and very thoroughly, lingering, she thought, far too long on her throat. His eyes were half-closed and gleaming behind his thick lashes when they returned to her face. “You think I’m going to leap on you and bite that pretty neck?”
    She didn’t answer, and he prowled around the back of her, coming to a halt so close she had to force herself not to move away. His hands caressed her hair, sliding away the silky strands to bare the line of her throat.
    “You smell so delicious.”
    Tara twitched, but his hands held her in place. His lips were on her skin and a wave of heat washed over her. Her eyes fluttered closed as his mouth opened against her throat and his tongue stroked, slow and cool against her heated flesh.
    “Maybe just a little taste…” His teeth scraped her, and she braced herself for his bite. Instead, he turned her in his arms, allowing her to see the hunger burning in his eyes. So hot, so fierce that she gasped.
    “See, you’re quite safe with me.” He lowered his lids for a moment. When he opened them, his expression was blank. “One day soon, I hope you will trust me enough to allow me your blood, but perhaps you are not quite ready for that yet.”
    He slid his finger down the line of her throat, pressed it against the vein, and lingered on her pulse. “Though I don’t think it is only fear that makes your pulse beat so fast, and perhaps you are ready for this.”
    He lowered his head and kissed her. His lips were incredibly soft against hers, not demanding but requesting her compliance, and without thought her mouth opened beneath his. How easily her resolutions vanished,
    His tongue slid inside. Instantly the kiss deepened, and she lost the ability to think rationally. His hand drifted up to cradle the back of her skull and held her steady while his mouth ravaged hers. Tara lost herself in the sensations coursing through her body—so new, so intense. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to one of the huge scarlet sofas.
    He sank down, pulling her onto his lap without breaking the kiss. His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue thrust into her mouth and stroked. At first, she allowed him to have his way, but it wasn’t enough, and she started to move with him. At the soft glide of her tongue, his grip tightened. His hands slid over her, grinding her against the hardness of his body. It was like steel, and the muscles of her belly knotted and warm wet heat pooled between her thighs. Her body seemed to take over, and she wriggled her bottom into his hips, until he groaned against her mouth.
    The air filled with a musky, feral scent, and Christian stilled. His hands gripped her arms, and he lifted her from him, depositing her on the cool silk of the sofa. He shifted as far from her as he could while staying seated.
    Tara stared at him, fighting the urge to crawl across the space between them. She wanted him, needed him. She made a move, and he put up a hand to ward her off. It was like being