A Vampire's Promise (17 page)

He let go of my hand and clutched his forehead as though he'd just been afflicted with a brain freeze. Pursing his lips, he blew out a breath. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a man who desperately wanted to speak but was afraid his words would be the wrong ones.

Welcome to the club.

I didn't want to waste any more time in pointless conversation. It would be an exercise in futility that accomplished nothing. What was about to happen between us right here, right now, was not going to be achieved with words. Unless they were all single syllables used for instructional purposes along with some heavy-duty physical contact. My hands literally itched to get beneath his wet clothing and touch his body.

Something in my life, my luckless romantic aspirations, my failure to successfully seduce a man, had all been pushing me toward this moment. Gabriel was to be my first, perhaps my only lover. I don't know how I knew this or what turn of fate's cosmic wheel had made it so, but it was true. I had known it eighty-seven nights ago on my front porch, and the conviction was even stronger now. I made it to the staircase before Gabriel's voice stopped me.

“Give yourself to me, Rowan, and you will take no other.”

I don't know if other girls have experienced such a declaration, but it didn't surprise me coming from him. I was almost expecting it, even if I wasn't completely sure I understood all the implications. Gabriel was telling me exactly what was going to happen. What his intentions were, just in case I hadn't been paying attention.

I heard myself reply, saying the words that would change my life forever. I just had no idea to what extent.

“Then make me want no other.”

I
unpinned my hair, letting it tumble around my shoulders, before unzipping my risqué witch costume and sliding it down over my hips. The fishnets, amazing push-up bra, and panties quickly followed. I pulled back the covers and got into bed, lying on my side facing away from the door. I didn't hear Gabriel come up the stairs, but I knew the moment he entered the room, even though he crossed the hardwood floor without a sound. I knew because the muscles in my belly clenched.

The splat of his sodden T-shirt hitting the floor was unnaturally loud, and the metallic clink of his belt buckle made the breath catch in my throat. There was a soft scrape of wet denim down skin, and then I felt a whisper of cold air as he lifted the covers and slid beneath them. I reached to turn off the bedside lamp, but he stayed my arm.

“Please don't. I want to look at you.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed, pulling my hand back and sliding it under the pillow. For what seemed the longest time there was nothing but the sound of our breathing. A steady, rhythmic inhale-exhale as I accustomed myself to Gabriel's presence in my bed. I felt his fingers stroking my shoulder, caressing the skin lightly as he explored the contours of my body. Sweeping his hand down my arm, he let his fingers jump off at my elbow and fall into the dip of my waist before traveling up over my hip. I couldn't stop trembling, and I prayed he could tell the difference between fear and anticipation.

Pushing aside my hair, Gabriel pressed his lips against my skin, covering the back of my shoulder with light, warm kisses. His hand grasped me lightly, rolling me toward him. His eyes swept over me, glowing in the soft light with the same iridescent shimmer I'd seen when he stood beneath my porch light.

“You are more beautiful than I ever imagined,” he whispered, moving so that he was now above me.

Bearing his weight on his forearms, he leaned down and kissed me in a sweet, unhurried explosion of need. It felt like he was kissing me for the first time.

“Dear God . . . ,” I murmured, my voice a hoarse rasp when he finally released my lips.

Clutching his upper arms, I unconsciously arched my back, pushing myself up against him. I felt the flush of heat spread throughout my body as his forefinger stroked my cheek.

“I want you so much,” he told me, his mouth against my temple, “and I've been waiting so long to be here.”

I had become a virgin in every sense of the word, feeling as if I had never been with a man before, had no awareness of what the male body looked like nude, had never felt muscle and bone flexing and moving beneath my hands. And I suppose with Gabriel it was all true. I'd certainly never been with a man like him before.

The width of his shoulders threatened to dwarf me, while the muscles of his chest and abdomen created their own shadows as the light played over his body. Captivated by the velvet smoothness of his skin and the glossy silkiness of his hair, I drank in every inch of him that I could see and allowed my imagination to paint me a picture of what I could only feel. All the pitiful fumbling and wretched attempts at coupling that were the sum of my experience had been wiped away with a single kiss.

“I'm not sure what to do,” I whispered, as a string of panic began to twist and knot inside me.

Gabriel smiled down at me, his hair falling like snow. “Let me take you where you want to go,” he murmured in his silky, melting voice.

“But I don't know where that is.” Anxiety made me sound fretful.

“Don't worry”—he kissed the corner of my mouth—“I do.”

Bunching his shoulders, he held himself up on powerful arms. His biceps flexed, and his eyes reflected something I recognized, something I had seen in them before. A longing that had been waiting a lifetime to be fulfilled.

“I'm going to apologize now because I may forget to do so in the heat of the moment.” A crease appeared on his smooth brow. “But this first time will be painful for you.”

I returned his gaze and nodded, unable to say anything. I wasn't sure if being forewarned was helpful or not. In any case, it wasn't something either of us could prevent happening. And despite my own efforts to lock it down, anxiety returned and began spiraling through me. No matter how much I told myself I wanted this, wanted Gabriel to be the first to ever take me, my muscles trembled and my heart pounded, making the blood rush through me. I was terrified I'd disappoint him.

“You won't,” he whispered in my ear.

His hair swept erotically over my skin as his tongue traced a path from my throat to my navel, and back up again. Cupping a breast in one hand, Gabriel rubbed his thumb lightly over my nipple. I almost jumped off the bed as it stiffened under his touch. I have pleasured my own body, stroked myself with my hands and fingers, but it was never like this. I almost climaxed when he took me in his mouth, scraping my nipple lightly with his teeth, before suckling me. I dropped my hands to his sides, wanting to touch him as well, return some of the same pleasure, but he would not allow it.

“Not this time,” he told me with a wolfish grin, “this time the pleasure is for you . . . and it is all mine to give.”

Dropping his head, he continued to feast on me. I was drenched in an overload of sensation, every inch of my body becoming a slavish receptor for his touch. The warmth of his breath made my flesh dance; the sweep of his tongue teased me to heights I'd never scaled before. Moving a hand down over my hip, he applied a slight pressure at the juncture of my thighs and slipped his finger between the folds of skin, persuading me to open for him.

My own slick heat eased his finger inside me, and I shuddered with uncontrollable pleasure as he began sliding in and out. A second finger followed, increasing the heat and my own wetness, encouraging my body to open wider for him. I groaned, scraping my teeth over my lower lip as I shuddered, my own fingers digging into his upper arm with enough force to make him pause, concern written all over his face.

“Am I hurting you?”

I stared at him, my eyes no doubt wild, and shook my head frantically. I was so close to coming I didn't know whether to beg him to push me over the edge or let me ride out the exquisite torture for as long as I was able to. Feeling the surge of my body beneath his, Gabriel smiled. It was a sensuous lift of his lips that created its own set of tremors running through me, and he moved his hand again, his thumb finding my sweet spot. Unable to stop myself, I gasped, bunching the sheet in my hand as every muscle in my body tensed and he took me over the edge with just a few strokes.

I tried twisting away from him as the intensity of my orgasm ripped through me, but there was no escape. My body was one huge path of carnal sensitivity, and Gabriel's touch sent every nerve ending on a roller-coaster ride of erotic pleasure.

I had no idea I could feel so good.

He kissed me, deep and hungry, and I responded with my own hunger. Wrapping my arms tightly about his neck, I drew his tongue inside my mouth, nipping playfully at his lower lip as I did so. He groaned and settled himself between my thighs, making me open my legs wider to accommodate his hips. His cock was throbbing hot and hard against my belly, but I could feel his hesitation.

“It's all right,” I told him, wishing my voice didn't sound quite so strained. “I want this . . . and I want it to be you.”

Pushing himself up on his arms, his eyes never leaving mine as he locked his elbows, he lifted his hips and thrust into me with one smooth stroke.

Oh . . . sweet Jesus Christ!

Punching through my virginal membrane, Gabriel muscled his way inside me. The pain washing through me had a flavor uniquely its own, unlike anything I had ever felt before and never would again. Flesh and muscle stretched to accommodate him, pushed to the point that I was certain something would tear.

He was too big . . . I couldn't take him . . . this was destined to be another failure.

Moving above me, Gabriel carefully unlocked his elbows and lowered his upper torso until his weight rested on his forearms.

“Rowan, look at me.” I did as he instructed, unaware I'd closed my eyes. “Good, now . . . breathe.”

“What?”

“Breathe, nice and slow. Take a breath.” I did as he asked. “Now . . . can you feel me?”

Feel him? Was he crazy? He was the only thing I
could
feel. My eyes must have telegraphed my thoughts because he smiled and repeated himself.

“Can you feel
all
of me?”

I gave a gasp of surprise as I grasped the distinction. He was flush against me, skin to skin; I had taken all of him inside my body. As he rocked his hips gently, I felt his balls brush against my ass. My body had adjusted to him; now it was up to my mind to follow suit. “Yeah . . . I can feel you.”

“Are you sure?” He moved deep inside me.

“Oh yeah, I'm sure.”

Slowly Gabriel pulled back, leaving a slippery burn as he withdrew. As he slid forward again, I could feel the slickness that coated him, a slickness produced by me, and suddenly his presence wasn't so invasive. It was as if I'd been waiting for him, and now that he'd taken possession, I yielded readily, greedily wrapping myself around him. My ears filled with the sound of a low, sexy purr that erupted from the back of my throat as a rippling heat coursed through me.

Gabriel answered with a rumble of his own. “Lift your legs higher, put them around my waist.”

I gasped sharply as another wave of pain stung me, but it was forgotten almost immediately when I felt him go deeper. And deeper was better. There was a pounding I could feel, coming in waves, and bringing with it the most incredible sensation. I needed him to keep moving.

Sensing my heat rising, Gabriel increased the driving rhythm of his hips. His skin became slippery, not just inside me but outside as well, and my hands kept sliding down his arms. For the first time in my life I was grateful for the gene pool that enabled me to lock my ankles together as I wrapped my long legs around him. With my heels pressing into the small of his back, I concentrated on the pulse drumming wildly at the base of his throat.

“Hold onto me,” he instructed in a husky whisper.

I put my arms around his neck and lifted myself up. Pillowing my breasts against his chest, I buried my face in his massive shoulder. Any sense of control I may have had, or thought I had, vanished. My body gave itself over to him, responding to every erotically whispered directive with an eagerness that stunned me.

Stretched to the limit, my flesh wrapped itself around his thick cock, wanting to make up for lost time. Gripping him with muscles hungry to be used, I pulled him further inside me, delighting in the friction as he pulled back before thrusting forward again. I could feel a mild burn along the inside of my thighs as they held him, but I paid it no attention, too focused on the unknown force building within me. A tidal wave was forming, one that danced the fine line between pleasure and pain so exquisitely I couldn't tell which was which.

“I'm sorry,” Gabriel apologized, his voice hoarse and ragged. “I can't stop . . .”

He had one arm around my waist, the other bracing himself against the mattress as he drove into me.

“It's all right,” I gasped back at him. “Just don't let me go!”

His arm tightened as he threw back his head, the cords in his neck straining, his body becoming as tight as a drum before exploding in a hot rush that took me with him. At the point of our release, as pain and pleasure washed through me in a golden torrent that expanded every muscle along my pelvis, hips, and thighs, I dug my nails into the back of his neck, bared my teeth and—God help me—I bit him.

His blood flowed over my tongue, flooding my mouth with a hot sweetness that quickly changed to an exotic sizzle beneath the thick, syrupy coating. And as it hit the back of my throat, there came an explosion of peppery heat, a kick that told me—
I had tasted this before.
Then my nose was flooded with the scent of pine trees and snow.

It was the most amazing thing I have ever done.

And it felt so right.

S
anity hit me up the side of the head with a figurative sledgehammer.

What the hell are you doing?

The inside of my mouth was on fire, but the sensation wasn't in the least bit unpleasant. It felt how I imagined a sip of the world's best bourbon would taste—smooth as silk, with one hell of a kick. But I don't imagine it would be imbibed in quite the same way.

Closing my eyes, I swallowed, trying to wash down the taste in my mouth with saliva. Through a tangle of lashes I saw the circle of marks my teeth had left just below Gabriel's collarbone. I turned my head into the pillow, too ashamed to look him in the eye and totally humiliated by my bizarre behavior.

He was throbbing inside me, his presence an erotic violation on a scale that couldn't be measured. The ferocity of our passion had lessened, reducing itself to an aching soreness that was made acute by the position of our bodies. Embracing him between my legs, balancing his weight on my hips and lower back was a strange and slightly claustrophobic sensation. Releasing his hold around my waist, Gabriel propped himself up on both arms, his shoulders rolling as he moved.

“I'm so sorry,” I mumbled, trying desperately to hide in the pillow. “I don't know what came over me.”

Catching my chin with his fingers, Gabriel turned my head back to face him, waiting until I had no choice but to look up at him.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said solemnly, as a fierce light shone from his eyes. “I am yours to do with as you will.”

I knew, as sure as my middle name is Marie, that I had heard him say those words to me before. I just couldn't remember when or where. His lips brushed mine lightly before he swept the hair back from my face. My legs more or less fell of their own accord from around his hips, making me wince as the pressure inside me shifted.

“Hold still,” he said in a low voice.

I groaned as he pulled out of me. The sudden lift of his body created an unexpected shock that made me want to lock my knees together and curl into a ball until the ache went away. I was also filled with the strange urge to throttle every writer of romantic fiction who failed to mention that losing your virginity involved pain. However, in all fairness, the fault may have been more Gabriel's than mine. He was definitely bigger than any other man I'd ever seen with his pants off.

“Stay where you are,” he ordered gruffly, throwing back the covers.

Where did he think I was going to go? Down to the One-Stop Mart at the gas station to buy a quart of milk? A giggle unexpectedly bubbled at the thought, and then the scent of something delicious tickled my nose. I put my hand out, making Gabriel turn back to me. As he leaned down to kiss me, I inhaled the fragrance coming from his body. My immediate thought was cologne or aftershave, perhaps body wash, but a second, deeper inhalation, told me I was wrong. This wasn't something that lay on the surface of his skin; this came from within. And I knew exactly what it was.

“Your blood . . . ,” I said with what I knew had to be a look of amazement on my face.

Gabriel's expression changed to one of wariness. Had I just committed some massive blunder, the kind of thing that might have started a war a couple of hundred years ago?

“What about my blood?” he asked guardedly.

“That's what I smell.”

“You can smell my blood?” He raised his eyebrows and looked . . . amazed.

I nodded and grinned. “I'm no expert, but I always thought all blood had the same smell, sort of coppery and salty like an old penny.” My nostrils flared again. “Yours doesn't smell like that; it smells fantastic. It reminds me of winter, like I'm in the middle of a pine forest, but so much better. And there's something else,” I gushed, “something I feel I should know, only I can't remember.” I felt myself blushing. Just how unhinged did I want him to think I actually was?

“Imagine that,” he said, bending down and kissing me gently on the mouth, all signs of his earlier unease gone. I swear he was glowing.

With my fingers I traced the outline of the bite mark on his skin. I still had no idea what had provoked me into doing such a thing. “I hope it doesn't leave a scar,” I told him.

Taking my hand, Gabriel pressed it against his chest, against his heart, and said solemnly, “I hope it does.”

I watched as he got up and went out of the room, enjoying the spectacular view of his ass, which, like the rest of him, was stunningly perfect.

Lying back, I could feel a warm stickiness on my thighs. Gingerly I wiped my skin, smearing my fingers with a bloody, milky fluid. Semen mixed with the proof of my virginity. I didn't want to see just how much was down there. It felt like a quart at the very least.

I closed my eyes and heard the soothing sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Drifting, I was headed for some post-coital land of bliss when I felt Gabriel touch me. His wet hair, along with the fragrance of my body wash clinging to his damp skin, told me what he'd been doing. Before I could utter a syllable in protest, he scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the bathroom, where the shower was still running. Setting me carefully on my feet inside the tub, he got in behind me, pulling my shower curtain closed. It was going to have to be replaced, I decided. Yellow ducks seemed completely inappropriate for post-sex showers.

“Can you stand?” Gabriel asked, his voice in my ear.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” I braced my hands against the fiberglass wall in front of me. As long as my knees were locked, I was good to go. I let the water do its job, sluicing the excess fluid off my thighs before I carefully turned around and looked at him. He took up a whole lot more of my shower than my bed.

I couldn't help noticing the questioning look on Gabriel's face as he reached around me for the bottle of body wash. He seemed determined to treat me as if I was made of fine crystal, and I decided to enjoy the attention while it lasted. I splayed my hands against the smooth hardness of his chest and leaned against him.

Not bothering with a sponge, Gabriel tipped the pomegranate-mango-scented liquid into his palm, working it up into a rich lather. Caressing my skin, he soaped me up and down, tenderly wiping away whatever evidence still remained of our lovemaking and, with it, the last remnants of the girl I had once been. He took the most exquisite care with me.

Kissing me lightly, he turned me back around so he could finish his task. I felt him pause when his fingers brushed lightly over the marking in the small of my back.

“You have a tattoo.” He sounded surprised, as if completely taken aback by the inking. It was obviously something he hadn't expected to see.

I tilted my head, wondering if it was going to be a problem. “A lot of girls have them,” I muttered defensively. “They're no longer the exclusive right of bikers and gangbangers, you know.”

“I wasn't being critical.” His soapy hand slid up between my thighs and across my buttocks. “And I don't have a problem with it.”

“But you don't like it?” I probed.

“No, you're wrong. I like it very much. It was just . . . unexpected.”

And to prove his point he leaned forward and latched onto the curve of my neck, sucking the skin until it stung erotically.

With his hands on my shoulders, he turned me back around and stared down at me. His hair hung straight back, and I watched the water bead on his shoulders, running down his chest in little rivulets before dispersing across his pretty fantastic six-pack.

“What does it mean?” he asked curiously.

I lifted my shoulders. “I don't think it actually has a meaning.”

“Well, it's an unusual design. How did you come up with it?”

I hesitated.

“What?” Gabriel put his hands on my upper arms and shook me a little. His eyes dropped, and he licked his lips as I jiggled.

“You'll laugh at me,” I told him.

“No, I promise I won't.”

His voice was serious, but my C-cup fillers were a definite distraction, which wasn't surprising considering I was wet and naked. I took a deep breath, deliberately grazing his chest with my breasts as I did so, and waited for his attention to refocus above my neckline.

Finding my eyes again, Gabriel grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“I dreamed about it.”

I have never told anyone where the idea for my tattoo came from. It's an odd grouping of seven characters, and the best way I can describe them is by saying they look like a marriage of Greek letters and the symbols on a computer display of unusual fonts. Not quite one or the other, and not really a blend of the two, but close. A language all its own, except I had no idea what language it could possibly be. I peered up at Gabriel from beneath my lashes, convinced I would see a smirk on his face, but his mouth remained a straight line, and there was no hidden laughter in his eyes.

“How old were you?” he asked seriously.

“I don't really remember . . . about ten or eleven I think.”

“And your father allowed you to get tattooed so young?”

I laughed. “Of course not, he would have had a fit! I had to wait until I was eighteen before I could get inked. I was ten or eleven when I had the dream.” He looked at me oddly, and I felt as if he was hiding something. “It means something, doesn't it?”

“I'm sure it does, but not anything that I know.”

Chuckling, Gabriel put his arms around me, his hand gently sweeping over the design before cupping my ass. I knew in my heart he was keeping something back, only I couldn't imagine what or why. It was just a tattoo, after all, even if it was an odd one.

“Do you want to hear something really strange?” I asked.

“About your tattoo?”

He was back to being cautious, and I nodded.

“Okay, but wet your hair for me.” Now he reached for the bottle of shampoo.

I tipped my head back under the spray and let the weight of the water magically straighten out my curls.

“About a week after I had it done, Laycee decided she wanted one. Not the same thing, of course, she wanted one of those tribal designs.” I saw him nod as his fingers began working through the suds I now wore as a crown. The scent of tangerines complemented the pomegranate-mango body wash. “Anyway, she liked the way mine looked,” I continued, “and as I'd had hardly any bleeding, she wanted the same guy who inked me to do her.”

“Uh-huh.” Gabriel encouraged me to continue as he massaged my scalp.

“Mmmmm, oh yeah, that feels good.” For a few moments I luxuriated in the feel of his fingers in my hair. Now I was the one getting distracted. “Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, well, the guy didn't remember doing it. He remembered me, but not actually doing the tattoo. Not even after I showed it to him. He drew a complete blank. Is that weird or what?”

“Not if he wasn't meant to remember,” Gabriel said. At least I think that's what he said, but my ears were full of soap. Rinsing them out I heard him ask, “So, did Laycee get a tattoo?”

“Nah.” I shook my head, and a big glob of suds landed on Gabriel's chest. “She figured the guy was high on something, so she didn't want him anywhere near her with an instrument that had multiple needles.”

“Very wise of her.”

Gabriel rinsed the shampoo out of my hair, and then his fingers began kneading my shoulders and I forgot everything else. When I was washed to his satisfaction, he reached around me and shut the water off. I couldn't help smiling. He really did take up an awful lot of room. Pushing back the shower curtain, he grabbed a towel and wrapped me in it, letting his forefinger wander a little as he tucked the end between my breasts. He handed me another for my hair and then secured one around his own waist before lifting me over the edge of the tub. I frowned, wondering where the multitude of towels had come from. And then I recognized them as the same ones I had washed that morning and had left folded on top of the dryer. I guessed he must have run down in his birthday suit to get them. Good job I lived alone.

“Sheets?” he asked.

“What?”

“Where do you keep your clean sheets?”

“Linen closet in the hall.” I pointed out the bathroom door.

“Good, wait here.”

Again with the staying where I was. What was this obsession that I might run off somewhere either totally or half naked? Shaking my head, I wiped the condensation off the mirror above the sink and stared at my reflection. I looked the same, and yet I didn't. My skin was flushed, my lips were swollen, and something in my eyes said I knew what it was like to hold a man in the palm of my hand. And not just figuratively.

“You are now an official member of the Women's Club,” I murmured to my reflection. About time, too . . . and well worth the wait.

Gabriel stepped back into the bathroom. “I put your sheets downstairs on the floor by the washer. Was that okay?”

I paused, a handful of wet curls in one hand and a wide-toothed comb in the other, surprised by his thoughtfulness in changing them in the first place. I figured most guys would have just mopped up the mess with a towel and left it at that. I opened my mouth to thank him and then closed it again. On both occasions, the towels and now the sheets, I hadn't heard him going up or down the stairs. “Sure, that's fine.”

Combing out the last of my tangles, I separated my hair into three sections so I could braid it. It would still be wet in the morning, but I didn't care. At least it would be easier to comb out again.

“Here, let me do that,” Gabriel offered.

It was on my lips to automatically refuse, but then I stopped. His fingers moved deftly as he wove the wet strands into one.

“A man of hidden talents,” I murmured, handing him a band to secure the end.

In bed once more, in the comfort of clean sheets, Gabriel tucked me back against him so we lay together like spoons. Except I was a teaspoon and he was more of a ladle, a really big soup ladle. My butt nestled comfortably against his groin, and I felt him, semi-hard, flirting with the round curve of my ass. It would take very little effort on my part to get him all the way erect.