Page 10 of How to Flirt with a Hellhound
“Of course, not all wounds spray. They’re just as likely to drip as to splatter,” he added helpfully.
“Shit,” I said. I hadn’t thought of that. “I really wanted blood on the walls when the vampire love interest comes in.”
“Well, with so much blood pooling on the ground, and so much blood obviously on the human—” he started.
“Witch,” I interrupted.
“—on the witch, then,” he went on, “I’d think the bad guy could easily smear blood on the walls with his hands. Or even kick it up with his feet. Vampires are supposed to like blood, aren’t they? I’d think an evil one would enjoy getting messy.”
“Oh, yeah, perfect,” I responded, my fingers flying. “Help yourself to coffee or whatever,” I mumbled vaguely. I knew it was probably rude, but he had just given me a great idea, and I had to get it down.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I finished my scene, but I looked up and Serial Killer Neighbor—Dex, I mean (I really had to stop calling him Serial Killer Neighbor in my head)—was sitting at my kitchen island and drinking a cup of coffee. There was another cup across from him, and my hammer was laying on the island next to him.
Ah, that must have been why he stopped over.
I blushed then. Shit. I was the worst host ever. How long had I made Dex sit and wait for me?
“Ah, sorry. I was just in the middle of a scene, and sometimes I get a little lost in my head, and—” I started.
“It’s fine,” he smiled.
God, he was sexy when he smiled. I got up and walked over to the island, trying to be casual as I leaned against it next to him.
“You’re cute when you’re absorbed,” he added.
Fuck. I might die of a heart attack right here in my kitchen. My sexy, possibly-serial-killer neighbor thought I was cute? Fuck.
“Ah, ok. Thanks. Cute is good. Yeah. Good. Cute. Uh, anyway, you must have come to return my hammer, right?” I mumbled, walking over and picking up the hammer. “Because I left it with you. Or actually, you took it from me. Not in a bad way! I mean, to, like, stop me from hurting myself. Not that I do that. Hurt myself, I mean. Not on purpose, but you know power tools,” I babbled.
Fuck. Brain to mouth emergency. Emergency alert. STOP TALKING!
Only brain or mouth didn’t get the memo, because I picked up the hammer and added, “Although a hammer isn’t really a power tool, but it’s a tool, and yeah, me and tools, we don’t play nicely.”
I might have been gesticulating with the hammer in my hand, because suddenly Sexy Neighbor was up and had grabbed my hand right before I managed to smack myself with the hammer.
I chuckled weakly, muttering, “Case in point.”
Only then I was distracted, because somehow Sexy Neighbor’s body was really close to mine, almost caging me in against the kitchen island, and his hand was on my hand, and I could feel the heat coming off of him.
“You’re really hot,” I mumbled. “Oh god! I mean, like, temperature hot! You’re really temperature hot. Not that I’m saying you’re ugly or anything! Because of course you’re hot appearance wise too. I mean…”
Fuck! I groaned and closed my eyes, although Sexy Neighbor looked more amused than anything else, and his hand was still on mine, and his skin was really warm, and it was making mywhole body warm, but in a really good way, and if he moved any closer, he was going to feel exactly how good he was making feel.
I opened one eye, and yup, he was still there, and he still looked mildly amused, although he took a deep breath in then, like he was gonna say something, only his eyes widened and suddenly he didn’t look so amused. He looked… double fuck—he looked intense.
“Are you gonna kiss me?” I asked, because brain to mouth filter was still apparently broken, and he totally looked like he might kiss me, although maybe that was my brain running away into fantasy land again.
“Would that be acceptable?” he murmured, and yes his face was definitely closer to mine, and he was inhaling deeply, almost like he was smelling me, only instead of being creepy, it was insanely hot.
“Yeah. Yes. Totally acceptable. Definitely acceptable,” I muttered.
Then I was cut off, because his lips pressed against mine. His hand must have taken the hammer from me and put it down, because my hands were free to wrap around his back, and one of his hands was in my hair, pulling my head back for a better angle. The kiss started gentle, and then he licked at my lips and I opened my mouth to him. His tongue slid inside, and god, he tasted like campfire and spices. I groaned as our tongues tangled together, and he pulled back slightly to nip at my bottom lip.
I pressed my body against his, and he was hardeverywhere, and fuck if I didn’t moan again. I tried really hard not to hump against him as his mouth ravished mine. It was pure bliss—tongues and lips and teeth occasionally nibbling—and when he pulled back, I was breathing heavily and barely able to hold myself up.
“Fuck, you’re a good kisser. That’s totally going into my scene,” I mumbled.
Then my eyes shot open, mortified.
