Maybe there are vampires out there who like to spend their time in raves.
I bet there are secret vampire raves in the city.
I should Google it.
And it JUST. WOULDN’T. STOP. Good thing I’ve seen the movie a dozen times, because I remember absolutely nothing.
As we were leaving, I couldn’t help but glance at the stairs leading down to his front door. There was no way for me to see if he was home, and this only led my mind on a wild goose chase as to where he could be on a Sunday night. I was so distracted even Raegan could tell something was on my mind. I had to lie and say it was another hard day at the rescue, which wasn’t technically a lie, because every day is hard when you’re taking care of ten plus animals. Even so, I felt ten times more guilty by the time I got home.
Throughout the car ride back to the farm, I tried my best to find the root of my problem. Maybe I’m just dangerously horny, so much that it’s affecting my brain’s ability to function properly. Like, medical emergency levels of horniness. Ever since Aidan and I hooked up, it’s been impossible to satiate that itch. Not even my favorite vibrator has helped, and that thing always does the trick.
I knew it the day after it happened, and I know it now: Aidan Ward is the best I’ve ever had, and I need to know what else he has to offer.
This, on top of the three glasses of wine I treated myself to after I got home, are what led to this terrible,terribledecision. I, thirty-five year old Joanna Shepherd, sent a‘you up?’text, which then led to me needing to call and explain myself.
Now I’m on the phone with Aidan, listening to his deep baritone tell me I couldn’t stay away, and I want so badly to say something snarky, but he’s right. I really couldn’t stay away.
“What gave you that impression?” I finally ask, attempting to act none the wiser.
“Joanna.” Every time he says my name, a year is taken from my life. “I may be old, but I know what a booty call is.”
I choke on my wine. “Please,neversay that word again.”
“Booty call? That’s two words.”
I groan loudly into the phone. “Ughhhh.”
His laugh causes a flurry of activity in my stomach. Either he’s giving me butterflies, or the wine was bad.
“Why did you call, then?” he asks casually, changing tactics.
I’m keenly aware that we both know why I called. He knows what I want, and now I’m chickening out. But why? Where’s the harm in admitting I want a little physical affection? Even if it is with someone who sent me on my way after sucking him off.
This is crazy. Feeling this desperate for a man is extremely out of character for me. Some vampire voodoo must be happening, because just the sound of his voice is making me want to race over there and strip.
Get it together, Jo. You’re an adult. Just admit you want sex.
“I have a proposition for you,” I tell him.
Hehumseagerly. “Please, go on.”
I scoff. “Don’t act like you already have an answer before I’ve asked the question.”
“Oh, but I do.”
My eyes roll to the back of my skull. “Is there a reason you make everything so difficult? Or do you just hate me?”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line—so long I pull the phone away from my face just to make sure we’re still connected.
Finally, after a minute of excruciating silence, in a much softer tone, he says, “I don’t hate you.”
I wasn’t expecting him to answer me so directly, but I can work with that.
“Alright, given that enlightening admission, I would like to share my proposal,” I tell him, then rush to say, “and think about your answer after I’ve asked, please.”
He doesn’t protest. “Okay.”
My palms sweat against the back of my phone. “We had a pretty good time last week,” I start, “at least, I thought so.” I’m fumbling over the right words, but now that I’ve started, I have to spit them out. “What I’m trying to say is: we have good chemistry.” I can feel him about to interject, but I quickly stop it. “Not in our daily lives, obviously—you totally need an attitude adjustment—but in the bedroom, we make a good pair.”
