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“What about the sun?” she asked. “Extra toasty?” “I’m not going to burst into flames, but I avoid tanning beds.” “Silver?” “Some of my favorite cufflinks.” “Garlic?” “Please,” he sneered. “I’m Italian.”
Watching the vampire read at the table with his dark hair falling into his eyes, a frown furrowing his brow and his lips pursed as he tickled under the cat’s chin gave Beatrice the irrational desire to crawl into his lap and curl up, just to see if she might get the same treatment.
A boy from Beatrice's art history class had taken her to dinner the weekend before, and she had enjoyed it. His name was Jeff, and he was polite and funny. She even laughed a little when he related stories about the drama in the office where he was interning and would probably work in the fall. He took her back to her grandmother’s house and gave her a really nice kiss. She had absolutely no desire to see him again.
“What do you want? I’m tired.” Lorenzo looked at the clock over the mantel. “It’s barely nine-thirty!” “Let me clarify. I’m tired of your company.”
It was all completely illegal. And she didn’t care one bit.
