Saved at Sunrise

rinsed them just in case any weres or other vamps
     were around. Didn’t want them to smell you.”
    How could she argue with that? She couldn’t. Well, she could, not every argument had
     to be based in logic, but face it, she was too tired to argue a logical point much
     less an illogical one.
    “Ready for some more blood?” He held the cup out.
    She wanted to say no, but she knew the blood was the only thing that would help her.
     Leaning up on her elbow, or trying to, she slipped back into the pillow. She looked
     up into his soft, concerned eyes and felt … she felt naked, weak, and vulnerable.
     This was so not her best day.
    He reached down and helped her sit up. She felt the sheet slip down and she barely
     managed to catch it before it exposed her breasts. He held the cup to her lips and
     she sipped.
    When he pulled the cup away, he smiled at her again—all sweet like. He wasn’t even
     looking at her like she was naked under the sheet like most boys would. He was smiling
     at her like … like she was someone he cared about.
    Definitely not her best day.
    She didn’t want him to start caring. Because then she might start caring about him.
     That was dangerous.
    Closing her eyes, she leaned back and in few minutes she felt sleep claim her.
     
    Chapter Six
    Della felt a tickle against her temple and went to wipe it away. Then the tickle hit
     the back of her hand.
    Her eyes popped open with a start. The tickle was someone’s breath, easy in and easy
     out, wisps of air.
    And that someone was Steve.
    Steve, asleep in bed with her. Steve, on his side, sharing her pillow.
    Steve, not even the least bit ugly, with dark long lashes resting against his upper
     cheek. His equally dark brown hair lay scattered across his brow.
    Asleep, he looked younger, except for his five o’clock shadow. She tried to remember
     if she’d felt any of that stubble when he’d kissed her last night at the restaurant.
     She hadn’t. But she wanted to run her fingers across his chin now.
    Her gaze shifted downward to her chest, to her not-so-big boobs. The sheet had slipped
     down around her waist.
    Frowning, she snatched the sheet up and wondered if Steve had been privy to the view
     before he’d fallen asleep. Of course he had, she realized, he’d been the one to remove
     her bra and play doctor when he dressed her wound. A depressing thought hit. Had he
     been disappointed that she wasn’t bigger?
    She stared at the two slight mounds now pushing against the sheet—finding a bit of
     hope that they were a little bigger than they used to be. In the last few months,
     she’d actually started to fill out a B cup. Not that she aspired to get to a C cup
     like Miranda and Kylie. But a full B or B+ would be nice.
    She glanced to her left side and lowered the sheet just a bit to see her bandage.
     It didn’t look like a half-assed job. Shifting her shoulder, she realized it must
     have healed, because there wasn’t even the slightest amount of pain. Then she looked
     at her arm where another bandage was.
    She vaguely remembered Steve waking her up and making her drink blood two or three
     times. She also recalled him telling her yesterday that his mom was a doctor. Was
     he considering becoming a doctor himself? He should. The boy had what it took.
    Reaching up, she loosened the bandage below her shoulder blade to see the wound. The
     cut still showed, but it was close to being healed.
    “It looks good,” a deep, sleepy voice said beside her.
    She cut her eyes to the guy sharing the mattress with her and glared. “Get out of
     my bed.”
    He grinned. “Technically, it’s my bed. I rented the room.”
    She frowned. “It’s too early to be logical!”
    He chuckled. “Actually, it’s not early, either.”
    She sat up a little, holding the sheet to her chest, and vaguely recalled not being
     able to sit up earlier. “What time is it?”
    He rolled over and looked at the clock on the bedside table. “Six.”
    “That’s early,” she said.
    “In the afternoon.” He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair and looked adorable
     doing it.
    “Wait. It’s six in the afternoon? Shit!” She sat up straighter. “I slept all freaking
     day? Burnett’s probably livid. I was supposed to check in.”
    “I did.”
    She frowned. “You told him I was hurt!”
    “No, well I did, but I downplayed it—a lot. I had to tell him you had to fight because
     the whole burning warehouse and sightings of giant lions made the