“Kiss her,” Dante insisted. “She has to learn to control her fangs. Especially how to put them away.”
“Dante is right,” Gia said from the kitchen door. She’d been up most of the night after the fish incident and apparently was just now rising. Letting the kitchen door close, she moved to join them at the table and pointed out, “Bringing out her fangs is important, but being able to make them recede again is more important. She has to know how to put them away in case they come out of their own volition while she is among mortals. You wouldn’t want her standing in a grocery store or a restaurant with her fangs out and not be able to force them away.”
“Exactly,” Dante said with satisfaction. “Kiss her.”
Holly frowned, but then so did Justin. He also glanced to her uncertainly and seeing her expression, shook his head unhappily. “I don’t think—-”
“Then I will,” Dante announced and stepped forward.
“The hell you will!” Justin protested, grabbing his arm and hauling him back.
“Then kiss her,” Dante growled. “Bring on her passion and her fangs.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not really necessary,” Holly began to babble at once when Justin turned grimly toward her. Beginning to back away, she added quickly, “I mean, no offense, but I’m sure he can’t bring on my passion. I’m married, and I love my husband, and mummph mmmm mummph—-” The end of her protest was muffled by his mouth when it closed over hers. But it stopped entirely when he took advantage of her attempt at continued denial and sucked one of her flapping lips between his own.
Good Lord, what the hell was he doing? She wondered faintly as his arms slid around her, his hands moving down to cup her behind and urge her up against him. That wasn’t kissing. That was . . . oh dear, she thought weakly as his tongue thrust into her mouth and she felt not just a flutter of passion, but an entire damned tsunami of it washing through her body. Dear God, the man was devouring her. He was . . . he was . . .
Not caring what the hell he was, she gave up her thoughts and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck as her mouth opened wider in welcome. Holly had never been kissed like this. James had never kissed her as if his very life depended on it, as if he was desperate to explore every nook and cranny of her lips, teeth and tongue. As if she held the secret to the universe somewhere in her mouth and he was determined to find it with his own. His body was giving off so much heat she felt singed, and there was a hardness growing between them that she was quite sure was not expanding foam someone had shot between their groins—-although she would have understood if they had, and the insulation would have been appreciated. Holly was quite sure she was about to burst into flames down there and the hardness growing between his legs was hot enough to curl her hair.
Tasting blood on her tongue was enough to shock these ridiculous thoughts right out of her head. She’d bitten him, Holly realized and pulled her head back with alarm.
“I’m thorry,” she lisped around the fangs protruding from her jaw, feeling horrible about biting the man in the tongue.
“Good job,” Dante said gruffly and slapped Justin on the shoulder.
He’d still been holding her in his arms, a pained expression on his face, but now eased away from her. He didn’t just let her go, though, but turned and walked out of the kitchen.
“Ith he o’ay?” she asked, the words garbled around her fangs. God, it was hard to talk with these darned things out.
“He’s fine,” Gia said reassuringly. “He’s probably going to rinse his mouth.”
“And take a cold shower,” Dante added with amusement.
“Definitely,” Tomasso agreed, grinning from ear to ear.
Gia gave her cousins a look and then stepped up next to Holly. “Now, let’s concentrate on getting your fangs back where they belong. Shall we?”
“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” Justin chanted, banging his head repeatedly against the ceramic tile of the shower wall as cold water poured down over the back of his black T--shirt and jeans.
Getting undressed before the cold shower he was suffering would have taken too long for him to bother with. Especially since he’d been battling mightily against the insane urge to march right back to the kitchen, pick up Holly, carry her up here to his room, rip off her clothes and ravish her.