"Laurell K. Hamilton - Anita Blake 08 - Blue Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Laurell K)

effectively trapped. But I was a willing captive, so it was okay.
"What I want to do is go down on my knees and lick the front of this nifty
shirt. I want to know just how much of you I can suck through the cloth." I
raised my eyebrows at him.
He laughed soft and low. The sound raised goose bumps up and down my body,
tightening my nipples and other places. His laughter was a touchable,
intrusive thing. He could do things with his voice that most men couldn't do
with their hands. Yet he was afraid I'd leave him for Richard.
He rested his face on my chest, cradled between my breasts. He rubbed his
cheeks softly back and forth against me, making the satin slide against me,
until my breath came faster.
I sighed and leaned my face over him, folding our bodies together. "I don't
plan to leave you for Richard. But he's in trouble, and that comes before
sex."
Jean-Claude raised his face to me, our arms so entangled that he almost
couldn't move. "Kiss me, ma petite, that is all. Just a kiss to tell me that
you love me."
I laid my lips against his forehead. "I thought you were more secure than
this."
"I am," he said, "with everyone but you."
I pulled back enough to study his face. "Love should make you feel more
secure not less."
"Yes," he said quietly, "it should. But you love Richard, too. You try not
to love him, and he tries not to love you. But love is not so easily slain -тАУ
or so easily aroused."
I bent over him. The first kiss was a mere brush of lips like satin rubbing
against my mouth. The second kiss was harder. I bit lightly along his upper
lip, and he made a small sound. He kissed me back, hands sliding to either
side of my face. He kissed me as if he were drinking me down, trying to lick
the last drops from the bottle of some fine wine, tender, eager, hungry. I
collapsed against him, hands sliding over him as if even my hands were hungry
for the feel of him.
I felt his fangs, sharp, bruising against my lips and tongue. There was a
quick, sharp pain and the sweet copper taste of blood. He made a small
inarticulate sound and rolled over me. I was suddenly on the bed with him
above me. His eyes were one solid glowing blue, the pupils gone in a rush of
desire.
He tried to turn my head to one side, nuzzling at my neck. I turned my face
into his, blocking him. "No blood, Jean-Claude."
 He went almost limp on top of me, face buried in the rumpled sheets.
"Please, ma petite."
I pushed at his shoulder. "Get off of me."
He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling, carefully not looking at
me. "I can enter every orifice of your body with every part of me, but you
refuse me the last bit of yourself."
I got off the bed carefully, not sure my knees were steady. "I am not
food," I said.
"It is so much more than mere feeding, ma petite. If only you would allow
me to show you how very much more."
I grabbed the pile of blouses and started taking them off the hanger and