The Vampire Shrink(20)
Author: Lynda Hilburn

"Where the f**k have you been?" Alan demanded, bound­ing toward me. His face was red, deep frown lines etched the skin between his eyes, and the veins in his forehead bulged.

"I've been out all night searching for you. I told you to wait in front of the club. Where did you go? You look ter­rible. What's all over you? And what's that gross smell?"

He stepped away from me like he'd received an electri­cal shock.

As he yelled at me, the psychic numbness that had kept me from feeling the depth of the hideous experience receded, and I stood there trembling. The inner dam broke. Tears raced down my cheeks. I slumped onto the porch, tumbled over on my side, and sobbed loudly.

Alan cursed under his breath

He kneeled down next to me. "Geez, don't cry. I'm sorry, Kismet. I didn't mean to be a jerk. I was just so worried. I heard on the police scanner that they'd found you, and then something about dead bodies. I guess I added up the num­bers wrong and overreacted. I felt responsible for taking you to that club and for whatever happened to you.

"And now you stroll up to your front door, obviously in one piece, and I'm so relieved to see you and so pissed at myself for putting you in danger."

He sniffed the air.

"But we need to get you into the house and out of those clothes, because I never thought I'd say this to you, but you smell worse than anything I've ever smelled. Plus, the media vultures will be here any minute."

The professional part of me knew that I was sobbing be­cause it was a natural physical reaction to the kind of trauma I'd experienced, but the little girl part was simply crying be­cause it had been a terrible night and she wanted to be held on someone's lap and rocked to sleep. She wanted to feel safe again. To feel normal again.

"Let's take these boots off out here, okay?" He slid them off my feet and tossed them into the bushes. He pulled me up, put his arm around me, asked for my alarm code and opened the door.

I still couldn't stop crying long enough to speak in full sentences, so I was grateful he seemed intent on helping me. Once the reality had melted through the defenses I'd cre­ated to weather the nightmare, I was hanging by very thin threads and was happy to have a friend running underneath me with a net. Hopefully, the net wasn't accompanied by men in white coats.

Still holding onto me, he helped me up the stairs to the bathroom and propped me against the sink while he turned on the water for my shower.

"I'm going to leave the door open, if that's all right with you, because after you step into the shower, I'm going to take these clothes and bag them up for the forensics team. They'll want to analyze all the various . . . substances."

He shook his head. "I can't believe the chief made them let you wear the clothes home."

He really did look like he'd been up all night, and I was touched by the concern in his eyes.

I gave a limp shrug. "Sure. Leave the door open. That's fine," I sniffled, as I peeled off my clothes without waiting for him to leave the room.

"Uh, uh, I'm gonna go find that bag. I'll be right back." He flew down the stairs.

Sometimes things get very simple. Standing under that stream of hot water was the best thing I'd ever experienced. Not even chocolate or orgasms could top it on the list of won­derful things at that moment.

I washed my hair several times and used every good-smell­ing soap product I had on the plastic shelf that hung from my shower head. I scrubbed my nails and finally just laid down in the tub and let the water beat down on me. Ambrosia.

"Kismet? Are you okay?" Alan yanked back the shower curtain.

I just stared up at him, unable to move even one muscle in response.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to burst in on you like that. I couldn't see you in the shower and I thought you might have fallen down or something."

I didn't seem to have any opinions about him opening the shower curtain or seeing me lying na**d in the tub. Nothing was more important than enjoying feeling like a warm, limp noodle. I couldn't get worked up about my blatant nudity or anything else. I was so happy to be home—so happy to be safe. And clean. It would have taken an earthquake to jar me out of my Zen tranquility.

Now that I smelled better, I realized I'd shared my aro­matic carry-out with Alan, and he was less than springtime fresh. Whatever had been on my clothes was now on his.

I raised mv arm. "Give me a hand, would you?”

He pulled me to my feet, his eyes moving slowly down my body.

I pinched my nose closed. "Anything strike you about your state of hygiene since you helped me upstairs?"

He glanced down at himself, half grinned and scrunched up his nose.

"I think you'd better add your clothes to the bag for the forensics team and step in here with me. That smell doesn't work any better on you than it did on me."

His eyebrows shot up and then he shrugged. "How can I refuse such an enticing invitation?"

He sloughed off the fouled clothing and gingerly stepped into the tub, making sure he kept his back to me.

He had an astoundingly nice ass. Firm, round, and beg­ging to be palmed. I stood at the far end of the shower and watched the muscles in his back ripple as he soaped his arms.

After he'd washed everything he wanted to without turning around, he finally shifted his body and faced me, his compass enthusiastically showing true north. My eyes feasted on the impressive erection and he stared at me as he lathered himself there.

I felt an earthquake.

"Oh, my," I uttered without thinking. I fought the urge to reach out and touch someone.

We admired each other in silence, eyes caressing where hands wished to be.

He turned off the water and ran his fingers through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face. His lovely purple-blue eyes sparkled mischievously, and his cheeks were flushed. Moisture beads glistened on the muscles of his chest.

He stepped forward, brushing my arm as he reached for the towels on the rack outside the shower. My arm tingled and became the epicentre for waves of pleasure sensations. He handed me a towel, slowly dried himself off and stepped out of the tub.

I stole another quick peek at his admirable erection and argued with myself about what I was thinking. I followed him, fastened the towel above my br**sts and moved over to the sink. I wiped off the mirror with my hand, leaned in and stared at my reflection. None the worse for wear, if you didn't notice my spacey, glazed-over eyes. The normally sparkling sky blue didn't seem so vibrant right then.

Alan made good use of the extra toothbrush I found, and we stood side by side, silently gazing at each other in the mirror. I don't let just anyone watch me take care of dental business.

I brushed my teeth, flossed and used every kind of mouth­wash that I had in my medicine cabinet before I finally felt semi-normal.

"What do you need now?" he asked.

Knowing exactly what I needed, I turned to him and met his kind eyes. "I want to curl up in my bed, under my covers, and I want you to hold me."

The corners of his lips quirked up in an amused grin, which I interpreted as an affirmative. I grabbed his hand, led us into my bedroom and pulled down the bed covers. I dropped my towel and slid between the sheets. Giving him my best "come hither" smile, I patted the mattress next to me, sending a clear message. It had been a long time since the Brazen Hussy part of my personality had a chance to come out and play.

He stood and gazed down at me, hesitating only a few seconds before he joined me.

I wrapped myself around him, feeling finally safe, and sighed. "Thank you for being here with me. You're a good friend."

"A friend? You're giving me way too much credit. I'm not having very friend-like thoughts at the moment."

I met his eyes. "What kind of thoughts are you having?" As if I didn't know, even without the compass to point the way.

"I'm-in-bed-with-a-beautiful-woman thoughts. And I know this isn't the right time to be romantic, because you need to rest and recuperate."

"It's very sweet of you to take care of me."

I didn't want to think about where I'd been all night, or what might have happened, or the media frenzy that was waiting for me. I absolutely didn't want to think about the probability that there really were vampires. All I wanted was to be held, touched, connected without any expectations or rules or complications.

I brushed his lips lightly with mine and slid my hand down the muscled plane of his belly, down over the warm, firm length of his erection. He moaned, grabbed a handful of my wet hair and pulled me tight against him as he closed his lips over mine with hungry need.

"I haven't even begun to take care of you," he breathed against my mouth.

Our bodies melted into each other as we took the kiss deeper, allowing all the emotions and tensions of the previ­ous hours to find release through the firestorm of our mutual attraction.

We kissed until every nerve in my body was sizzling and burning.

He pulled away, his breathing ragged and his voice husky. "I don't want to take advantage of this situation. Tell me to stop and I will."

All I could think of was how good he felt next to me, how warm and sweet his mouth was on mine. And after the freak circus I'd experienced the night before, the pleasure of being with a normal male felt overwhelmingly right. Safe. Pure, primitive desire with no insanity attached to it. No fear.

"Don't stop." I ran my hands over his smooth chest.

He rolled me over onto my back and began licking and sucking my ni**les, trailing his hand down my stomach. His body was fever hot and his touch like liquid fire.

He brought his face up to mine. "Your body is beautiful. I've imagined this since the first moment I saw you."

We kissed each other wildly, hands exploring, his erec­tion rubbing against my leg rhythmically as he slid his finger into the hot wetness between my thighs. I arched my back and opened myself to him, as a wave of ecstasy built inside me. He straddled me and licked his way down my body until his tongue finished what his finger had started. I screamed and dug my fingernails into his shoulders as he laved me over the edge. Quivering, I grabbed his hair and pulled him up onto me, aching for him to fill me, longing to be joined in that primal way with someone. Wanting to give him what he'd given me.

Then there was loud pounding on my front door.

"Dr. Knight? Denver PD. Your door was unlocked. We heard a scream. Are you all right? Do you need help?"

Alan leaped up and ran into the bathroom.

I sat up in the bed and yelled, "No. Everything's fine. Stay where you are. I'll be right down."

Damn, damn, damn! That's twice I’ve left my door unlocked in as many days, and both times I got interrupted in the middle of something delicious.

Still revelling in the spell cast by Alan's magic mouth, the muscles between my legs contracted with desire as I breathed to recover myself. I heard the shower start in the bathroom and I was tempted to sneak in there so Alan wouldn't have to finish without me. Thinking about that provided an unex­pected orgasmic aftershock and I forced myself to swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up.

If only the cops had waited 15 more minutes. Nothing about my world made sense anymore.

I walked over to the closet, pulled on my pink terry-cloth bathrobe, tied the sash, and shuffled down the stairs.

Chapter Fourteen

“Dr. Knight? I'm Detective Robles and this is my part­ner, Detective Nyland. We have a few more questions for you, and the forensics team is sending someone by to pick up the clothes you were wearing last night. Do you have them bagged and ready?"

"Almost. I'll get them."

I pointed to the interior of my house. "Why don't you go into the living room and have a seat. Just give me few minutes."

I went up to my bedroom, peeled off my comfortable pink robe, put on fresh underwear and stood in front of the closet, trying to decide what would be appropriate dress for a police interview. I rifled through my professional clothes, considering whether a skirt or pants would be better. Then I stopped and shook my head. Who was I trying to impress? The cops had seen me covered in blood and gore and smell­ing like an outhouse. I pulled one of my new sweat suits off the hanger and slipped it on.

I was going to run a brush through my hair, but it had al­ready dried in long curls and sometimes it was better to leave it alone, otherwise all the curl would turn into frizz.

I listened for a few seconds and couldn't hear the shower running in the bathroom so I approached the door and knocked lightly. "Alan?"

"Yeah. Come on in."

He was sitting na**d on the edge of the bathtub, in the pose of that famous statue, The Thinker.

Something about the incongruity of the situation made me laugh out loud.

He snorted. "Well. I'm glad someone thinks anything about this day is funny."

I went over and knelt down in front of him, taking his face in my hands. "I'm sorry we got interrupted before. It was wonderful. You were wonderful. I'm upset you had to finish without me."

He grinned. "'You might not have been in the bathroom with me, but—trust me—you were there."

I shifted forward and kissed his warm lips. "Can I have a rain check?"

He pulled me in for another kiss. "You have a standing in­vitation. I hate to change such a titillating subject, but I assume the locals have come to collect your clothes. Before I got back into the shower, I went through the pockets, retrieved every­thing and tucked the filthy duds into that yellow bag there."

He pointed and shook his head. "Unfortunately, I should’ve been more careful when I was enthusiastically tear­ing off my clothes to join you in the tub, because my brand new Fruit Of The Looms wound up getting tossed on top of a really nasty hunk of something on your jeans, and they're trashed. I don't think sending my stuff to the lab would be helpful, since they're just a repeat of yours. When the officers leave I'll use your washing machine, if you don't mind. Otherwise, I won't have any clothes to put on."