C hapter One
Jasmine turned to the side, visually
tracing the way the sheer material billowed out and fell into
graceful layers against her hips. The overhead lighting did nothing
for her complexion, but overall, the effect of the clothing wasn't
too shabby. The mirror didn't do her any favors, but it hadn't
cracked either.
Her gaze drifted a little bit lower,
following the lines and slopes of her body, but nope, no problems
identified. Light blue babydoll lingerie would knock Corin off his
feet for sure. In a few weeks, on the night of their one-year
wedding anniversary, she'd pick something even skimpier to show
off.
“Do it now while you can,” she
muttered beneath her breath. Immediately, a sense of giddiness and
overwhelming joy made a smile push at her cheeks.
“Do what?”
She whirled, startled—yet, not
really—to find her husband now standing behind her in the small
dressing room. Ducking to see around his hulking body, she searched
for irate saleswomen who might be storming their way in order to
toss them from the boutique. “You're going to get us kicked
out!”
Corin paid no attention to her
protest. His dark eyes had grown stormy and studied her with sexual
blatancy. “Gods,” he whispered.
Jasmine leaned back, letting the cool
wall support her as he visually undressed her, inch by inch. Her
skin warmed beneath the scrutiny, which sent delightful shivers
through her thighs, belly, and breasts. “I guess I should buy this
one, huh?” she asked in a husky voice meant to transfer some of
those same shivers to him.
How crazy and amazing that a single
look from this man aroused her to dripping need. Is this what the
next hundred years would be like? A century of loving the man, a
vampire executioner, who'd saved her from death and from a fate
even worse than that.
Maybe now would be a good time to tell
him their news…
“Mellita ,” he said softly, “you amaze me.”
His words were so similar to the
thought she'd had a moment ago, her smile widened. They'd grown
even closer during their brief marriage. He'd taught her how to be
a member of the vampire nation. Their laws. Their covenants. How to
survive.
Used to his occasional brusqueness and
frustratingly overprotective nature, she could no longer imagine a
world without him.
Her smile became an outright grin when
her gaze happened to drop and encountered just how “amazed” her man
had become. “Is that for me?” she asked, a brief nod pointing to
the thick outline in his trousers.
“Always.” His expression morphed into
something a little mischievous. It was a look she knew
well.
“Oh no, mister. Not here.” She
giggled. “I am so not going to jail because you want to be a little
kinky.”
He moved in close before she could
break out of the dressing room. “Shh. We'll be quiet,” he whispered
before sweeping his lips across her jaw.
As she knew she would at his touch,
Jasmine melted. Tilting her head, she met his seeking kisses, heat
swirling in her belly.
This was so bad. So bad. They'd never
been quiet during sex. Even now, a small whimper of need bubbled
from her throat. Corin responded by pushing a hand into her curls
and deepened their kiss, his tongue thrusting into her mouth.
Weak-kneed, Jasmine fought down the rising passion and tried to
sway her husband once again to take this to a less-exotic location.
“Let's finish this at home, sugar,” she murmured against his
lips.
He responded by pulling on the ribbon
of satin tied right above her cleavage with slow and deliberate
intent. He looked into her eyes while his fingers continued their
decadent work, revealing more of her bare skin with each tug.
Jasmine's nipples tightened, heaviness filling her breasts at the
thought of those same fingers brushing against them.
“Corin—” The admonishment died, a
desperate need to feel her husband intimately overriding common
sense.
Dark eyes flicked up. “You can't go
home dressed in this. Consider this my way of
Jasmine turned to the side, visually
tracing the way the sheer material billowed out and fell into
graceful layers against her hips. The overhead lighting did nothing
for her complexion, but overall, the effect of the clothing wasn't
too shabby. The mirror didn't do her any favors, but it hadn't
cracked either.
Her gaze drifted a little bit lower,
following the lines and slopes of her body, but nope, no problems
identified. Light blue babydoll lingerie would knock Corin off his
feet for sure. In a few weeks, on the night of their one-year
wedding anniversary, she'd pick something even skimpier to show
off.
“Do it now while you can,” she
muttered beneath her breath. Immediately, a sense of giddiness and
overwhelming joy made a smile push at her cheeks.
“Do what?”
She whirled, startled—yet, not
really—to find her husband now standing behind her in the small
dressing room. Ducking to see around his hulking body, she searched
for irate saleswomen who might be storming their way in order to
toss them from the boutique. “You're going to get us kicked
out!”
Corin paid no attention to her
protest. His dark eyes had grown stormy and studied her with sexual
blatancy. “Gods,” he whispered.
Jasmine leaned back, letting the cool
wall support her as he visually undressed her, inch by inch. Her
skin warmed beneath the scrutiny, which sent delightful shivers
through her thighs, belly, and breasts. “I guess I should buy this
one, huh?” she asked in a husky voice meant to transfer some of
those same shivers to him.
How crazy and amazing that a single
look from this man aroused her to dripping need. Is this what the
next hundred years would be like? A century of loving the man, a
vampire executioner, who'd saved her from death and from a fate
even worse than that.
Maybe now would be a good time to tell
him their news…
“Mellita ,” he said softly, “you amaze me.”
His words were so similar to the
thought she'd had a moment ago, her smile widened. They'd grown
even closer during their brief marriage. He'd taught her how to be
a member of the vampire nation. Their laws. Their covenants. How to
survive.
Used to his occasional brusqueness and
frustratingly overprotective nature, she could no longer imagine a
world without him.
Her smile became an outright grin when
her gaze happened to drop and encountered just how “amazed” her man
had become. “Is that for me?” she asked, a brief nod pointing to
the thick outline in his trousers.
“Always.” His expression morphed into
something a little mischievous. It was a look she knew
well.
“Oh no, mister. Not here.” She
giggled. “I am so not going to jail because you want to be a little
kinky.”
He moved in close before she could
break out of the dressing room. “Shh. We'll be quiet,” he whispered
before sweeping his lips across her jaw.
As she knew she would at his touch,
Jasmine melted. Tilting her head, she met his seeking kisses, heat
swirling in her belly.
This was so bad. So bad. They'd never
been quiet during sex. Even now, a small whimper of need bubbled
from her throat. Corin responded by pushing a hand into her curls
and deepened their kiss, his tongue thrusting into her mouth.
Weak-kneed, Jasmine fought down the rising passion and tried to
sway her husband once again to take this to a less-exotic location.
“Let's finish this at home, sugar,” she murmured against his
lips.
He responded by pulling on the ribbon
of satin tied right above her cleavage with slow and deliberate
intent. He looked into her eyes while his fingers continued their
decadent work, revealing more of her bare skin with each tug.
Jasmine's nipples tightened, heaviness filling her breasts at the
thought of those same fingers brushing against them.
“Corin—” The admonishment died, a
desperate need to feel her husband intimately overriding common
sense.
Dark eyes flicked up. “You can't go
home dressed in this. Consider this my way of
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