Biting Serendipity: April Fools For Love (Biting Love Short Bites Book 4) by Mary Hughes Page B

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