When He Was Bad
Page 26
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Therell be lots of sex, too.
Irene stopped, her hand on the doorknob. Sex?
Lots of sex.
Truly? Or is this some kind of Van Holtz torture?
He stepped up behind her and she could feel his body heat, the touch of his hands on her shoulder, fingers sliding under the straps of her gown. Oh, therell be a little torture, he promised. But only the good kind.
Van never realized until this moment how much of his childhood hed taken for granted. Going to school, playing with the other pups in the Pack, dating human girls, and debating with his friends the best way to keep their fangs in during sex. Hell, even going hunting every Christmas in Connecticut with his parents and sister. Things he did for enjoyment, not because hed been born into money, but because he hadnt been born any more or less special than any other shifter. He hadnt been any different from some pup from the Magnus Pack or the Smiths. All his parents ever asked of him was to not bare his fangs in public, not let his junior-high buddies pay to see his sister naked when she was getting out of the shower, and not to lick his balls when he thought the Pack wasnt looking . . . because they usually were.
He simply couldnt imagine people expecting any more from him than that at the age of five, ten, even twenty. But theyd expected it of Irene. At a charity event, he heard two older professors discussing how they once saw Irene give a speech at the United Nations nearly fifteen years ago. Why a ten-year-old needed to give a speech, in several languages no less, to U.N. delegates for any other reason than a dog and pony show, Van had no idea. Of course, it completely explained why she was the prickliest woman hed ever known. How could she be anything but prickly and a tad uptight?
Yet as Irene stood in his kitchen, desperately trying to force herself to relax, he suddenly knew what he had to do. What he wanted to do. He wanted to show her what it was like to be brutally, painfully, wonderfully average. Not all the time he knew shed never allow thatbut enough so she could learn to enjoy all the amazing things she could do. And so she wouldnt die of an ulcer and high blood pressure by the time she was forty-five.
First, though, he had to teach her basic relaxation skills. Like taking a bath, he thought as he tossed her naked body into his bathtub. She squealed like an actual girl until she hit the water and then she came up sputtering and pretty pissed off. But by then he was naked and in the water with her, so he easily grabbed her waist and dragged her back in before she could stomp off mad.
You do things just to irritate me, dont you?
Smiling, enjoying himself immensely, and determined to give her a wonderful and relaxing weekend, Van pushed Irenes wet hair from her face. Dont be silly, doc. He kissed her lips, nuzzled her chin. Of course I do things just to irritateyou.
How annoying. She actually found him cute. And charming. When did that happen? Shed always thought of Van Holtz as a spoiled rich boy from a one-time barbarian Pack of ravening wolves. But, when so motivated, he could be cute anddamn himcharming. Even when tossing her into water. Something Irene had always hated. But she did like feeling him press his body against hers as the bath water lapped around them and the bubbles sneaked up her nose.
She also liked the way he looked at her. Most men looked right through her. Women, too. Everyone looked through her unless they wanted something from her. And what they usually wanted involved academia. At the moment, Van Holtz looked like he couldnt care less about her mind than those in the English department. Most women would be insulted. And, as a rather proud feminist, she would be too . . . if she actually wanted a discourse on the Chaos Theory. She didnt. She wanted him. She wanted to have sexual intercourse with him. Wait. That was wrong. No, she didnt. She had sexual intercourse with men like Bradley. She didnt want that with Van Holtz.
She wanted to fuck him. She wanted to be fucked by him. She wanted to get sweaty and transfer fluids and forget her name. She wanted everything that a night with Niles Van Holtz promised, but she refused to want more. She refused to get so caught up in her sexual urges that she would believe, for a second, that this thing they were indulging in would ever lead to anything more. When this was doneand it would be done sooner rather than latershed find another Bradley whod make a great fourth at dinner with the dean.
Irene knew it was a very cold way of looking at relationships, even for her, but she had no delusions shed ever get more. She was too strange, too off-keyand not in a cute, adorable way eitherto ever hope someone could love her as she was, and she was smart enough to know shed never change. Not inherently. Not where it counted. Even if she curbed her tongue and stopped scaring her students, shed still be Irene Conridge, freak. Nothing she did would ever change that.
But shed indulge herself this time. She deserved it. For at least twenty years shed always done what people expected and wanted. Now shed do what she wanted, even if it was only for the weekend. Only for this brief time in her life.
Big thumbs brushed her nipples and all Irenes important thoughts floated away, leaving nothing but deep-seated lust.
She wrapped her arms around Van Holtzs neck and her legs around his waist, pulling him close to her. She marveled at the heat of him. His body was always warm or sometimes, like now, hot. She wondered if that was normal for shifters. If their body temperatures were hotter than other, normal humans. She wondered if hed let her take a sample of his blood. Then he lifted her up and laid her out on the tile floor and she quickly stopped caring about his DNA strain.
Irene stopped, her hand on the doorknob. Sex?
Lots of sex.
Truly? Or is this some kind of Van Holtz torture?
He stepped up behind her and she could feel his body heat, the touch of his hands on her shoulder, fingers sliding under the straps of her gown. Oh, therell be a little torture, he promised. But only the good kind.
Van never realized until this moment how much of his childhood hed taken for granted. Going to school, playing with the other pups in the Pack, dating human girls, and debating with his friends the best way to keep their fangs in during sex. Hell, even going hunting every Christmas in Connecticut with his parents and sister. Things he did for enjoyment, not because hed been born into money, but because he hadnt been born any more or less special than any other shifter. He hadnt been any different from some pup from the Magnus Pack or the Smiths. All his parents ever asked of him was to not bare his fangs in public, not let his junior-high buddies pay to see his sister naked when she was getting out of the shower, and not to lick his balls when he thought the Pack wasnt looking . . . because they usually were.
He simply couldnt imagine people expecting any more from him than that at the age of five, ten, even twenty. But theyd expected it of Irene. At a charity event, he heard two older professors discussing how they once saw Irene give a speech at the United Nations nearly fifteen years ago. Why a ten-year-old needed to give a speech, in several languages no less, to U.N. delegates for any other reason than a dog and pony show, Van had no idea. Of course, it completely explained why she was the prickliest woman hed ever known. How could she be anything but prickly and a tad uptight?
Yet as Irene stood in his kitchen, desperately trying to force herself to relax, he suddenly knew what he had to do. What he wanted to do. He wanted to show her what it was like to be brutally, painfully, wonderfully average. Not all the time he knew shed never allow thatbut enough so she could learn to enjoy all the amazing things she could do. And so she wouldnt die of an ulcer and high blood pressure by the time she was forty-five.
First, though, he had to teach her basic relaxation skills. Like taking a bath, he thought as he tossed her naked body into his bathtub. She squealed like an actual girl until she hit the water and then she came up sputtering and pretty pissed off. But by then he was naked and in the water with her, so he easily grabbed her waist and dragged her back in before she could stomp off mad.
You do things just to irritate me, dont you?
Smiling, enjoying himself immensely, and determined to give her a wonderful and relaxing weekend, Van pushed Irenes wet hair from her face. Dont be silly, doc. He kissed her lips, nuzzled her chin. Of course I do things just to irritateyou.
How annoying. She actually found him cute. And charming. When did that happen? Shed always thought of Van Holtz as a spoiled rich boy from a one-time barbarian Pack of ravening wolves. But, when so motivated, he could be cute anddamn himcharming. Even when tossing her into water. Something Irene had always hated. But she did like feeling him press his body against hers as the bath water lapped around them and the bubbles sneaked up her nose.
She also liked the way he looked at her. Most men looked right through her. Women, too. Everyone looked through her unless they wanted something from her. And what they usually wanted involved academia. At the moment, Van Holtz looked like he couldnt care less about her mind than those in the English department. Most women would be insulted. And, as a rather proud feminist, she would be too . . . if she actually wanted a discourse on the Chaos Theory. She didnt. She wanted him. She wanted to have sexual intercourse with him. Wait. That was wrong. No, she didnt. She had sexual intercourse with men like Bradley. She didnt want that with Van Holtz.
She wanted to fuck him. She wanted to be fucked by him. She wanted to get sweaty and transfer fluids and forget her name. She wanted everything that a night with Niles Van Holtz promised, but she refused to want more. She refused to get so caught up in her sexual urges that she would believe, for a second, that this thing they were indulging in would ever lead to anything more. When this was doneand it would be done sooner rather than latershed find another Bradley whod make a great fourth at dinner with the dean.
Irene knew it was a very cold way of looking at relationships, even for her, but she had no delusions shed ever get more. She was too strange, too off-keyand not in a cute, adorable way eitherto ever hope someone could love her as she was, and she was smart enough to know shed never change. Not inherently. Not where it counted. Even if she curbed her tongue and stopped scaring her students, shed still be Irene Conridge, freak. Nothing she did would ever change that.
But shed indulge herself this time. She deserved it. For at least twenty years shed always done what people expected and wanted. Now shed do what she wanted, even if it was only for the weekend. Only for this brief time in her life.
Big thumbs brushed her nipples and all Irenes important thoughts floated away, leaving nothing but deep-seated lust.
She wrapped her arms around Van Holtzs neck and her legs around his waist, pulling him close to her. She marveled at the heat of him. His body was always warm or sometimes, like now, hot. She wondered if that was normal for shifters. If their body temperatures were hotter than other, normal humans. She wondered if hed let her take a sample of his blood. Then he lifted her up and laid her out on the tile floor and she quickly stopped caring about his DNA strain.
