Biting Serendipity: April Fools For Love (Biting Love Short Bites Book 4) (6 page)

She pointed.

The view was the aforementioned leopard print and a whole lot of silver. Either the webcam had never stuck right or I knocked it off early on because the whole video was
upskirts.

I was horrified. My friends weren’t much better off. Without a word, they packed up the camera, donut box, and left the bar, taking Granny with them, the angle of her tam now less jaunty and more wilted.

Alone, I collapsed against the wall and palmed my hot forehead. I was
useless
at pranking.

And the contest was
tomorrow
. I was out of time.

Which, of course, was when jeans and well-worn boots appeared in the slice of floor that was my view. I looked up.

Thor stood there, arms folded over his chest—yum—and raised an eyebrow at me. “Ready to partner up?”

I sighed. “Do I have a choice?” Damn it. “All right. Let’s do it.”

Chapter Four

Do it.

If anything, my face got hotter. “Doing” it with Thor didn’t conjure up visions of pranks, unless they involved shower curtains on the floor and a whole lotta oil.

“Wait,” I said before I spontaneously combusted. “I thought you were against us as partners, too.”

With a grimace, he glanced away and shrugged. “It’s not like we have a choice.” His gaze came back to me, and his sexy mouth eased into a small smile. “Besides, sometimes two wrongs do make a right.”

“And two Wrights make an airplane.” What can I say? My granny told me all the groaner Dad jokes when I was little, and I absorbed them.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I couldn’t believe I’d just regaled Thorvald Thorsson, deadly vampire and hyperhot male, with a Dad joke. “Thinking out loud. We’ll need to plan.”

Camille sailed into the backroom at that moment. “Not on the job, you don’t. Get to work.”

I jerked like a guilty school kid before I realized she was scolding us for doing something
she’d
ordered. “But you told us to do this—”

“And
now
I’m telling you to get to work. You have a problem with that, employee?”

“Right away, boss.” I grabbed my tray, bussed my friends’ half-empty glasses and pitcher, and took off like a fighter jet.

“Sexy,” she called after me. “Fun!”

“
And,
” I muttered. “Don’t forget the And.”

I worked like a furious badger until closing. No, something more Sexy And Fun. A furious fox? Doesn’t matter. I was annoyed with Camille, the webcam, Jenny, Thor, and most of all,
myself,
but I took it out on my feet and tray, pounding both with work. I even told Jenny I’d do her cleanup alone. Added benefit, if I didn’t walk her home she wouldn’t somehow be influenced into bad behavior.

By the time I put on my coat to go home, my feet were aching, and I couldn’t wait to get into a hot bath. I stumbled toward the exit.

Thor stood by the door, leaning against the jamb with his boots and arms crossed, all casual male muscle, a pose that made him look like an ad for actually wanting a four hour erection.

My libido picked up, but I was still dog tired. “What?”

“You said we need to plan our gag.”

I groaned. I almost argued to wait for morning, but two things stopped me. First, midnight had passed, it was April first and my time was up. Second, well, vampire and morning sunrise was probably not the best combo.

He surprised me by saying, “We could meet for coffee after you got some sleep. But I thought you might want to get this over with. Buy you a beer?”

I took off my coat. “Fine. Sure.”

He pushed away from the jamb with a shrug of shoulder that made my belly clench,
uh,
and sauntered behind the bar. His muscular glutes, squeezing and releasing as he moved, drew my eyes like I was wearing suction cup contacts. Swallowing hard, my gaze stayed soldered to his backside until he turned to work the tapper and his behind turned with him. I jerked my eyes up, embarrassed that I’d let myself get distracted by a man’s backside, no matter how tongue-worthy—only to see him gazing at me, that blond brow arched in a clear
Busted
.

Cheeks heating, I dropped my coat on a table and slid onto a chair. The tables were the tall, plant-stand-size kind, with matching tall chair-stools. I idly spun around on the chair while I waited. What the hell. Jenny was gone. Nobody around for whom I needed to be adult.

Thor brought over two balloon goblets of beer. The glasses were hand-painted with scenes from various Corners tourist shops: Caffeine Café, Fudgy Delight, and Deli Delight. I stopped spinning, rested my feet on the top rung of the stool, grabbed the glass, and drank half down. The tart effervescence rasped my esophagus, in a good way, but I winced. “Ah.”

“Hurts so good?”

I cracked an eye. “Something like. My feet ache. I’m allowed.”

He
tsked
and set down his own half-empty beer. “Why didn’t you say something?” He slid smoothly from his stool and drew it around the table toward me. “Foot. Here.” He pointed at the seat.

“Why?”

“You’d argue with the Grim Reaper. Because I said so. It’s something nice. Don’t you trust me?”

“Well…” To my surprise, I did trust him. I put my foot on top of the stool.

Back to me, facing the stool, he pinned my ankle against the seat with one hand and shoehorned off my shoe with the other, releasing the aroma of
eau de stress
.

“What do you think you’re doing…?” My objections cut when he pressed fingers into the ball of my foot and began to massage. I groaned.

“Good?” He shot a grin over his shoulder.

“Great,” I admitted.

“You work too hard.” He grunted and returned to his massage, shoulders hunched with the effort. Broad, muscular shoulders, weaving in and out like a living, breathing cobra.

Would those shoulders look like that, hunched over a woman…? My belly quivered.

“Two full time jobs, what are you, a fifty year old with two mortgages and child support?”

“Twenty-five with rent and a granny.”

“Twenty-five.” His blond head shook, tresses whispering against the leather vest. “You don’t act it. You’re in the prime of your life. Why not live a little?”

“Reasons.” Unsettled, I tried to tug my foot from his grasp, but the man had hands like furred handcuffs. Not that I knew what those felt like from experience. Okay, maybe I’d crashed an adult toy store at sixteen and fondled the merchandise, but only a little.

“Come on. You’re a kid. You should be out playing.” He knuckled along the sides of my foot.

“A quarter century is not a kid.”

His words were unsettling, but his fingers felt so good. My tone was less forceful than it should have been.

“It is compared to fifty.” The way he phrased it left it up in the air as to whether he meant fifty years or centuries. “Have some fun, Sera. While you still can.”

I’d had my fun, and it led to other people getting hurt. “Thanks, but I have a conscience.” I yanked my foot forcibly out of his grip and hopped off the stool.

My feet never touched ground.

Thor had whipped around and caught me two-handed by the waist, holding me in front of him. My gaze rose to his in amazement—and stuck. His irises were a heated violet, his expression pure danger.

“You’re strong,” I breathed out.

“You’re barefoot.” His nostrils were flared, as if he was having trouble getting air.

My heart thudded in my ears. “I am.”

“This is a public place. We don’t know what’s been on the floor. Germs, broken glass.”

“Right.” I was ultra-aware of him, all that male strength and heat mere inches from me. “Except, Meiers Corners motto,
Kinder, Küche, Squeaky-Klean.
The Merry Mädchens scour it daily.”

“Ah. True.”

We hadn’t looked away from each other this whole time. His hands covered my waist, radiating heat up my ribcage. I was average size, but he had big hands, and I was beginning to prickle with sweat. “Um…aren’t you getting tired holding me up?”

“No. Wait, yes. You’ll have to put your arms around my neck.”

“What?” Hold onto him? With my
bare
arms? On his
bare
neck?

Skin to skin?

“Yes, I’m getting tired. Put your arms around my neck.”

He didn’t look tired. He looked like Atlas, lifting the celestial spheres for all time.

But maybe he was using vampire compulsion, and I wasn’t as immune as I thought, because my arms snaked around his neck.

Yeah, lying to myself. It wasn’t compulsion. I wanted to do it. I wanted to be close to him, touching, kissing…my body took the thought as a command, and I snuggled up.

Our gazes were still locked, our faces so close now our breath mingled.

What was wrong with me? He disapproved of me, didn’t understand me, or at least didn’t understand who I needed to be.

“There now,” he said. “This is better. Isn’t this better?”

His heat beat against me, through my laced-up vest and peasant blouse, beginning to scorch my skin. I could only nod.

My nod brushed my lips against his.

He sucked in his breath. The moment shimmered between us.

“I want to kiss you.” He whispered it. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

I nodded again, slowly. It brushed our lips, petal-soft, together.

“Good.” His lids lowered; his dark blond lashes feathered against his cheeks.

He opened his mouth on mine.

Sparks of desire shuddered through my system. I edged my tongue out, licking his lip.

He jerked in reaction. His grip shifted, wrapping firmly around my waist and hips, holding me to him. It felt natural to curl my legs around his waist, my ankles crossed at his back.

Lips parted, he pressed his mouth to mine, gently exploring.

I sighed and leaned into the kiss. He tasted effervescent, like a Pilsener. My lips parted, wanting more. Remembering his jerk of reaction to my tongue, I licked him again. He groaned and thrust his tongue into my mouth in return, and the taste got darker, richer, like a bock.

Excitement tightened all my muscles, arms and legs and thighs, until I wrapped him like a sweater. My breasts rubbed against his chest as my breath came faster.

He groaned and, lifting his mouth from mine, turned to set me on the tabletop. My eyes flew open and I started to object—until his hand settled on my breast. Gently, he tested the mound’s weight, heat and heft tingling through me. As he palmed me, his thumb made slow circles around the rim of the areola—without quite touching it, piquing its interest and mine. The nipple puckered, and I waited breathlessly for him to do more. For the light tingling sensations, like his taste, to become something darker and richer.

His gaze flicked up to me, gauging my reaction. I signaled by subtly thrusting my breasts toward him.

Thor made a hungry sound and flipped the rucked edge of my blouse under one breast, exposing the bra. He bent and licked along the edge of the bra, searing a line of fire. I hissed.

“Hot?” he said pleasantly.

“I’ll show you hot.” Years of reining in my wild child—poofed.

Two-handed, I grabbed both neckline and bra straps, and tore down. My breasts sprang free, nipples tight in anticipation.

He sucked in a breath. His gaze was nailed to my tits, his irises and pupils burning red.

And just peeking from between his lips were two fangs.

Somehow, the sight of those sharp tips set me instantly on fire. I grabbed him for a kiss, locking my ankles behind him so he had no choice. Maybe that inflamed him too, because he pressed into the cradle of my thighs. My skirt ruffle had ridden up my hips, and his body was searing hot against my panties, but I didn’t stop, didn’t even slow. I left staid behind and kissed him with the wildness in me, licking everything I could reach, his lips, his tongue, his teeth, his fangs…I swiped a long lick to one fang

A full body shudder erupted between my legs.

That strong male, shuddering like an earthquake.
Yes.

Of course I did it again. I unlocked my ankles to scoot forward and licked the length of the other sharp canine.

He gasped. Backed up, palm extended. “Wait.”

“No. No waiting.” If we stopped now, we’d never get beyond second base. For the first time in far too long, I wanted the wild child to trump Staid Sera.

I wanted to hit a home run.

I pushed off the table. He caught me and eased me to the floor, sliding me down his muscular body…uh… I barely remembered what I’d started out to do.

That long, front-to-front glide scrambled Thor’s brain cells too, because when I finally did remember and ran behind the bar, he didn’t stop me. Neither of us cared anymore that I was barefoot.

A bottle of honey whiskey on the top shelf was my goal. I stretched up for it. “Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

“Off.” I came around the bar, motioning impatiently, eager to show him how good I could make this.

He stripped vest and shirt with impressive alacrity—he was hungry for whatever I was offering. His excitement fueled mine. And the torso revealed…

I swallowed, a long slide of lust. Big, broad chest, heavily muscled. Belly ripped to within an inch of its life. Dent of a navel in a feathering of ashen hair. I wanted to lick him all over.

Which was what the liquor was for.

“Good. Now, up here.” I waved my bottle at the bar, signaling he should lie on top.

Intrigue flashed in his gaze. He leaped onto the bar without even stepping on a stool first. I swallowed again as he laid all that powerful male goodness, like a feast, out along the countertop.

My whole body prickled with eagerness, and my heart bumped along double time. I scrambled up onto the nearest stool. Trembling with anticipation, I pressed an experimental kiss to his solar plexus.