He tugged my T-shirt up. I tried to wriggle out of it and he caught it halfway up my arms, pulling the fabric tight. I couldn’t move my arms. His mouth closed on mine. He kissed me, hungry, so hungry. Heat surged through me. I wanted him so much. I needed him to love me. He kept kissing me, his stubble scraping my neck, his hand caressing my breasts, my side, lifting me toward him. His tongue teased my nipple, pulling a moan out of me. The world shrank to him. I wanted him between my legs.

He let me go and I wrapped my arms over him and pushed him to the side. He rolled on his back and I landed on top of him. I pulled my T-shirt off, threw my bra aside, and pulled his shirt off of him. My Curran . . . How did I ever end up with him? The way he looked at me made me want to strip naked and dance just so he would pounce.

“Your move,” he said, his voice rough.

I kissed his lips, moved down and kissed that chest, stroking him, sliding my hand lower, over the ridges of his abs, down to the hard length of him in his jeans. He drew a sharp breath. I unzipped him and slid my hand up and down his shaft. He groaned, straining, trying to stay where he was.

Any more and it would be torture for us both.

I hopped off of him and pulled off my jeans. When I was done, he grabbed me, already naked and ready to go. His hand caught my hair. His body caged mine. I wrapped my legs around him. I had no patience left. He pushed my legs off him and slid down. His mouth closed on me, his tongue in the perfect spot. Each lick, each touch coaxed pleasure out of my body. He kept going, faster and faster, insistent, the wet heat growing hotter until the climax burst through me. I cried out and forgot about everything as waves of bliss shook me. He was on top of me, thrusting, long and hard, all of him focused on me, all of him mine alone. We were making love and when the second burst of pleasure came, we shared it.

He was right about the danger. I had no idea.

•   •   •

MY EYES SNAPPED open. A noise came from the street, the very particular noise of claws scraping brick outside my window. Next to me Curran lay still, his eyes open. My head was on his chest, his right arm around me.

A clawed hand grabbed the windowsill and a furry, thin creature landed on it and hunched over, its face a nightmarish blend of human and rodent.

Last time a vampire, this time a wererat. There was no peace to be had in my apartment.

The wererat inclined his head. “Former Beassssht Lord. Former Consssshort.”