Vampire's Hunger by Cynthia Garner

With one booted heel he closed the bathroom door.
    Reaching out, he traced a fingertip down her cheek. “So soft,” he whispered. With efficiency he’d soon stripped himself. His shoulders were wide, his chest broad and sculpted, tapering to a slim waist. The muscles of his stomach redefined washboard. Just being with him made her feel safe, and that was something she’d never truly felt anywhere else.
    He was beautiful. And right now, in this moment, he was hers. There were no promises for tomorrow. Nothing else mattered, just this. Her heart beat heavily. Every sense heightened, and she was helpless to prevent her heart’s fast slide for this man. It would be so easy to fall in love with him. Hell, maybe she already had taken the plunge. She’d think about that later. Much, much later.
    Big hands swept her panties down and off her legs, and he moved her under the warm spray of the shower. Despite the hard prod of his cock at her back, he seemed in no hurry to follow through on his promise. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Let me bathe you.”
    Kimber gave a small nod. She was tired. Tired of battling zombies, tired of always being strong, tired of fighting her feelings for Duncan. For once she would let him take care of her.
    He took his time washing her body. His broad palms spread vanilla-scented lather over her skin, reaching from behind to follow the curves of her breasts and the slight slope of her belly. They skated down her legs to her feet. She braced her hands against the wall of the shower and lifted one foot and then the other while he washed between her toes. Then he soaped his hands again and washed her arms, then her back. He urged her back under the spray and rinsed the soap off.
    “I think you missed a couple of spots,” she murmured. While his gentle touch soothed her—and surprised her, to be honest—it also heightened her desire. Her voice came out sultry, throaty. He hadn’t touched where she needed it most, the throbbing, wet flesh between her thighs.
    “Patience.” He worked strawberry-scented shampoo into a thick lather in her hair, his fingers massaging her head and neck until she nearly went boneless against him. “I love your hair. Did I ever tell you that?”
    “No.”
    “I do.” His strong hands worked the lather through her tresses. “It’s such a fiery color. And the length is perfect.”
    “Perfect for what?” She leaned into him, her back against his chest, her hands resting on his thick thighs.
    He wrapped it around his hand and lightly tugged her head back until it rested on his shoulder. Her pulse thudded at the aggressive show of dominance. It should have scared her, but it didn’t. It sent licks of sensual excitement through her body, centering between her thighs.
    When he moved her back into the spray to rinse her hair, she turned in his loose hold and looped her arms around his neck. Her extreme tiredness had vanished, purged by her surging arousal. She couldn’t resist the urge to tease him. “What happened to hard and fast and desperate?” she asked, arching one brow at him.
    His smile was slow and so full of male arrogance and desire it made her chest hurt. “I managed to find a bit of restraint. I know,” he said with false modesty, “I surprise even myself.”
    His hands cupped her breasts and massaged gently, tweaking her nipples and lifting them up as an offering to his waiting lips. His tongue sent lightning from her nipple to her clit, and she began to pant. She grabbed his biceps and held on as his tongue caused wave after wave to crash through her body. He let go of one to move to the other and begin all over again. She begged and pleaded, though she wasn’t sure exactly what she was pleading for. For him to stop? For him to do more? Both?
    Finally, after several moments of play at her breasts he moved farther down to her stomach. He rinsed the soap off one hand and moved it between her thighs, sliding his fingers through the folds