A Vampire's Promise (18 page)

I felt wonderfully content, satisfied in a way I had never known before. True, I was still a little sore and achy, but in a very good way. I was also exhausted and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

“Sleep,” Gabriel whispered to me, kissing my cheek and shifting position so I could roll over into his arms.

I snuggled next to him, my hand tucked in the curve of his waist, with my head resting on his massive chest. I was just on the edge of sleep when I felt him kiss my forehead.

“I promise, I will have no other but you,” he whispered softly in the darkness.

You know who I am.

I
didn't need to reach behind me to feel the cold sheet, or turn my head and see the empty pillow to know I was alone. Flinging an arm over my eyes, I fought back the hot prick of tears and told myself to stop being stupid. I had known since the moment I'd invited Gabriel into my bed there was a possibility he wouldn't stay. I just wish he hadn't felt the need to prove me right.

Rolling onto my side, I curled up into a ball and pressed my hands between my knees. It helped a little. I was still sore, but I needed to find out if the ache was going to incapacitate me in any way. I made myself stretch out slowly, feeling the burn along my thighs and a dull pain in my pelvic area. Holy crap! How come no one ever mentioned the morning after could make you feel like you'd been hit by a semi?

Throwing back the covers, I put my feet on the floor and dared my legs to give way. Deciding this would not be the morning to piss me off, they obeyed my command and propelled me to the bathroom. Everything seemed to be throbbing, from the end of my braid to my toes, but I couldn't deny it was a perfectly acceptable condition when I recalled how I'd come by it. And just in case I was struck by the ridiculous notion that it had all been a really hot fantasy, I was sporting a pretty sizable love bite in the curve of my neck.

Turning sideways, I carefully passed my hands down over my abdomen, wincing just a little when I got to my pubic bone. I had no idea if it was the fact that I was older than most girls when I lost my virginity, or that Gabriel was so big, or a combination of the two, but there was no denying I was feeling some physical aftereffects. It wasn't one of those you-can't-get-out-of-bed feelings, but more of a what-happened-was-really-good-and-you-want-to-remember-it feeling. My inner thigh muscles protested as I pressed my fingers against the skin, but amazingly there were no bruises that I could see.

Brushing my palm lightly over my nipple, I caught my lower lip in my teeth as it flared to life, sending a little pulsating arc of pleasure through me, like an aftershock from an earthquake. Unexpected warmth flared in my groin, and I hoped it wouldn't take long for me to get through this “morning after” because I really wanted to have sex again. Problem was, waking up alone had shaken my confidence, and despite all that Gabriel had said, I didn't know if he intended to return, and I certainly wasn't about to invite anyone else to share my bed.

“Well, at least you can't die a virgin now,” I told my reflection smugly.

 

Thumbing through a magazine, with an abandoned cup of coffee at my elbow, I stared at the article I was trying to read. After my third attempt at the opening paragraph I decided to give it up. Besides, I really didn't care what hemlines were doing on Italian runways this year. My dad would have accused me of “woolgathering,” and he would have been right. I was trying really hard not to think about Gabriel, which was pretty much impossible. I wanted to hear the sound of his voice so I could reassure myself. Of what, I wasn't sure, but I think I needed to know last night had not been a mistake. Although there wasn't a whole hell of a lot I could do if he thought it was.

I was tempted to call him. His number was still programmed in my phone because I'd never gotten around to deleting it for some unfathomable reason, but then I reminded myself he'd had his service disconnected and reactivated since then. No doubt his carrier had provided him with a new number. Still . . . I resisted the urge to see if it had been changed, telling myself I was acting way too needy, and besides, I wasn't the one who had gotten up and left in the middle of the night.

As if on cue, my cell phone began burbling. The inane ringtone programmed by the teenage salesman made me jump. Ordinarily the bouncy pop tune didn't bother me, even made me smile on occasion, but right now it bugged the crap out of me.

“This better be good,” I snapped irritably, not bothering to check caller ID.

“Whoa, what bit you on the ass?” Laycee's voice inquired sweetly.

A big hunk of Gabriel . . . and my ass was one of the few places where he didn't put his mouth.

“Sorry,” I mumbled contritely. It wasn't her fault I was in a crappy mood. “Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I guess.”
And alone.

“Uh-huh.”

“So, what's up?” I forced myself to smile. You can always “hear” someone smiling on the phone.

“Well, I'm calling for two reasons.” Her tone forgave me for being snappish. “First, I want to thank you for coming to the Fall Festival last night—”

“You're welcome, and I'm sure I can find a suitable payback,” I interrupted, more like myself.

“—and the second is, Mom wants dibs on the turkey platter for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“As she's the only person who ever uses it, I think I should just give it to her as a gift.”

“You know she won't take it,” Laycee said with a laugh. “How else is she gonna make sure you're sitting at our table on turkey day?”

I laughed with her. “I know, I know. Tell her I'll run it over later in the week.”

“Great.” She paused, and I heard a hitch in her breath. “Are you okay, Ro?”

I felt myself frowning. Laycee may look like trailer trash, but she's smart and very intuitive, and she knows me too well to miss when something is “off.” Still, she couldn't possibly
know
. I mean not over the phone, could she? “Sure, why do you ask?”

“I dunno, you sound a little weird—not bad or anything,” she quickly clarified, “just odd.” There followed another pause. “You got home all right last night, didn't you. I mean, nothing happened, did it?”

Not a thing. Unless you count the most spectacular, earth-shattering sexual act that ever took place between two people.

“Of course I got home all right,” I told her, bypassing the second part of her question. “Guess I'm tired, that's all—and my feet still hurt from wearing those damn heels!”

She erupted into throaty laughter and accepted my explanation. We exchanged a couple more pleasantries and then hung up. I don't know why I didn't tell Laycee what had happened; I mean, it is the sort of thing best friends share, but for some reason I wanted to keep it to myself for as long as possible. In the back of my mind I guess I figured I'd get a lecture, especially if she knew who I'd slept with. And she had every right to bawl me out, considering what I'd put her through when Gabriel left me. But I wasn't in the right frame of mind to deal with disapproval this morning, whether it was deserved or not. I could only hope to be forgiven when I finally did confess.

The phone burbled again in my hand, and this time I didn't need to force the smile. It had taken Laycee about a minute to recall the other item her mom borrowed from me every Thanksgiving.

“Just remembered about the deviled egg dish, didn't you?”

There was a slight hesitation before Gabriel asked in a mystified voice, “Did I? What am I supposed to do with it?”

Oh, shit! I was instantly flustered. “Sorry, I thought you were Laycee calling back.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you haven't called me yet.”

I could hear the gentle reprimand in his voice, and despite the thrill of knowing he wanted me to call, the rebuke needled me.

“The last time I tried your number, you'd canceled your service,” I reminded him, needing to keep whatever was happening between us real.

There was a pause, a long one, and I was getting ready to say his name, just to make sure he was still on the other end, when he spoke, “Yeah, I'm sorry. I really screwed that one up, didn't I?”

“Uh-huh. You really did.” I listened as he took in a deep breath, exhaled slowly. I decided I wouldn't bring up the phone thing again.

“Can we start over?” he asked.

“Isn't that sort of what we did last night?”

“I'd like to think so.”

“Me too.” My heart soared, and it felt wonderful.

“I was calling to apologize for not being there when you woke up. How are you feeling?” His voice might have been only in my ear, but it covered me like a blanket. A blanket that made more than my stomach roll. I was experiencing definite muscle spasms in my pelvis.

“Fine,” I fibbed, “although I missed you in the bathtub.”

He chuckled, “I'm not sure how that would have worked out, given the size of your bathtub. Still”—his voice turned into a throat-swabbing throb—“I guess I could always make it up to you.”

Promises, promises. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Ask me where I am.”

“Okay, where are you?”

“In bed.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah . . . really.”

The sound of rustling material made me think of satin sheets, red satin sheets. I wanted to ask him what time he had left, but that seemed a little possessive. For now I was content that he had called me.

“Where are you?” Gabriel asked, turning the tables and neatly derailing my train of thought.

“Sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading a magazine.”

A seductive whisper filled my ear. “Well, I want you to take your phone and go back to bed.”

“Why? You won't be with me.” He wasn't the only one who could be playful.

“Trust me, I will be.” There came a low growl. “You ever had phone sex?”

“No,” I admitted with a little gasp, getting up the stairs as fast as I could and no longer caring if my body hurt.

“Then this will be something we're both going to enjoy.”

M
other Nature decided to play seasonal catch-up by grabbing hold of a wicked Canadian chill and one-arming it down the eastern seaboard in a straight shot. It was as if she realized the extended balm of summer had been a mistake brought on by forgetfulness and was mortified we might think she had a mild case of Alzheimer's. Determined to put things right, and cover her ass, she needed to remind us that even this far south the seasons really did change. Oh and, by the way, in case you haven't noticed, it
is
November. Overnight, the temperature plummeted.

I loved it. Which was why I was now sitting on the back porch swing, wrapped in an old comforter, drinking hot chocolate, and thinking of Gabriel.

Gabriel.

Just the sound of his name falling off my tongue was enough to send tremors spiking through me. Closing my eyes, I pictured him in my mind. Now that I was able to replace my earlier fantasies with a more accurate depiction, I was stunned at how superior the reality was to my make-believe. Especially when it came to him being naked.

The set of his shoulders, his well-muscled thighs, and everything in between made him a living, breathing billboard for sex. No wonder the women at Rosie's had been falling over themselves trying to get him to notice them. Gabriel had triggered an instinctive biological drive to mate with the strongest male and so ensure survival of the species.

And nothing was more desirable than confidence, especially when it came in such a seductive package. If God had put Gabriel in the Garden of Eden instead of Adam, trust me, Eve wouldn't have known there was a snake, much less been tempted by one.

And to think he wanted me.

My life had officially changed from what it had once been, and I don't just mean because Gabriel had taken my virginity, although on a personal level, that was an event of almost biblical proportions. I felt different now, and not just physically. Twenty-four hours before, I knew exactly who I was and had a good idea where my life was going. Now all bets were off. With Gabriel my life took on a different perspective. Like Alice, I had just fallen down the rabbit hole and had no idea where I was going to end up.

A sudden fluttering in the pit of my stomach told me I was no longer alone. I turned my head to see the object of my musings outlined in the back door. Backlit by the kitchen light, his hair shimmered like a halo. I had no idea how long he'd been standing there.

“I knocked,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder as he came toward me, “but I guess you didn't hear me.”

I shrugged, feeling my toes curl with delight. “Guess not.”

Before I'd fallen asleep for the second time, Gabriel had asked if he could come by. I'd told him an invitation wasn't necessary. Ever. My heart began back-flipping in my chest as he took the mug from my hand so he could lean down and kiss me. I guess he liked the taste of the hot chocolate on my lips because after his tongue was done telling me how much he'd missed me, he tipped the mug to his own mouth.

“Mmmm . . . that's good.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said, checking out the empty mug he handed back.

Scooting me forward, he tucked himself behind me on the swing seat, wrapping his arms around me as I leaned back and resumed star gazing. Stroking my arm lightly, Gabriel pointed out a few of the constellations, telling me their names. The only one I could recognize was the Big Dipper, although Gabriel called it Ursa Major, the Great Bear. To me the rest were simply dots of light in the night sky, some bunched together and some spread out, some stars that were still alive and some that had already died.

From somewhere in the dark there came a muffled whooshing sound, followed by soft scrabbling and a single, high-pitched squeal.

“An owl,” Gabriel whispered in my ear, his breath tickling my neck.

“How do you know?” I whispered back.

“Just do.”

He spoke with a surety that begged me to challenge him, but I didn't. Instead, I shrugged and shook my head as he chuckled softly and pulled me a little closer. I felt safe, as if this was where I was meant to be and he was exactly the person I was supposed to be with. I could tell him my darkest secrets, reveal my deepest fears, and he would not ridicule me for having them. No wonder all the other men I'd ever dated had come up short. I'd been waiting for Gabriel. I just never knew it.

“Rowan, I want you to know I meant what I said last night.” There was no flirty, sexual banter in his voice.

“About what?”

“About having no other but you.”

I didn't know I'd been holding my breath until I let it out. “That's good to know.” My tone was as solemn as his. “You don't strike me as the kind of man who would say such a thing and not mean it.”

He pressed his lips against the curve of my neck, over his handiwork, and I tilted my head to one side, giving him better access.

“How are you feeling?” His lips continued their exploration, and he pushed aside my hair so he could nibble on the back of my neck.

“Mmmmm, good . . . nice,” I murmured, tilting my head forward.

His lips stopped. “No, I mean how are you
feeling?
”

Oh . . . that.

“Good . . . really.” I raised my head and shifted so he could see my face. “Okay, so I'm a little sore still,” I admitted, “but nothing that I can't deal with given the right incentive.”

“And just what kind of incentive would you need?”

I could feel myself blushing and couldn't believe how ridiculous I was being. I've never been embarrassed talking about sex, and now I was behaving like a teenager who had just discovered her parents' “special toy” in the bedside dresser drawer.

“Maybe a demonstration would be better,” Gabriel suggested as his voice turned to liquid silk and filled the spaces between my vertebrae.

He moved again, settling himself more squarely on the seat, before straddling me across his lap. His erection rose to meet me. Leaning forward, I kissed him, my lips tentative at first and then quickly becoming more urgent.

“Ask me if I'm hungry,” I whispered, pulling my mouth away.

I could almost hear the cogs whirling inside his head as he tried to follow my thought process before he finally gave up and asked, “Are you hungry?”

“Very much so. Now ask me what I'm hungry for.”

The sensuous lift of his lips awoke a delicious fluttering that settled itself at the juncture of my thighs. “I don't need to ask,” he said with a purr, “I know exactly what you want.”

Pushing his hips up, Gabriel reached for my mouth and kissed me with an equal measure of hunger and desire. Long, cool fingers slid beneath my sweatshirt, a growl of delight rumbling up from somewhere in his chest at finding I wasn't wearing a bra. A thumb rubbed lightly over my nipple, which thanked him by exploding into a stiff peak, and I felt the fluttering in my stomach change into something more demanding.

“Do you want to go inside?” he asked as his hand now attended to my other breast.

“No, out here is just fine,” I gasped as his thumb and forefinger found my nipple. “There's no one who can see us, except for the owl.”

Pushing his shoulders back, I put some space between us so I could lift the sweatshirt up over my head.

“Perfect.” As he stroked along my spine, his mouth divided its attention between my breasts.

The chilly air whispering on my skin, his hot wetness suckling me, and the hard throb between my legs all combined to make one hell of an erotic dance. I nearly fell off the damn swing, but Gabriel's hand on my waist kept me firmly anchored against him. I could feel him straining against the fly of his jeans as his tongue began lapping little circles over my skin. A hand slid up my back and settled itself between my shoulder blades. It pushed me closer so he could lick the side of my neck, the hollow of my throat, across my collarbone.

My fingers found the first closed button of his shirt. Managing to fumble it open, I continued down until I was able to pull the black silk open and slide it off him. He was magnificent. The only blemish on his skin was the bite mark I had given him, and I guiltily ran my fingers over the bruise, feeling him shudder at my touch. I guess the look on my face concerned him, because he caught my hand and pushed it down between my legs, pressing my palm against his fly.

Feeling him move beneath me, I pressed back, seeing his eyes close as he drew in a ragged breath. Gabriel thrust upward with his hips, pulsing through the heavy denim. I clutched his shoulders, teasing him with some hip action of my own, grinding down on him and pushing my breasts against his chest. He groaned, and his hand tightened around my waist. I really didn't feel that sore anymore.

“Jesus Christ, Rowan . . . you've no idea how good that feels.”

I slid off his lap, and he jerked up, eyes open wide.

“It's okay, big guy,” I said, my hand possessively cupping his crotch. “I know how to make it feel even better.” I brushed my lips lightly over his and pushed him back. “Last night you did something wonderful for me. Now let me return the favor.”

The temperature had dropped a few more degrees, but despite being half-naked, I don't think either one of us felt cold. One of the advantages of having an internal thermostat constantly hovering on feverish, I guess. My fingers got busy unbuckling his belt and popping the button at his waistband. I was a little irked to discover he was wearing button-fly jeans. A zipper would have gotten me to what I wanted a lot faster, but then I appreciated how this would work in my favor. By the time I reached the last one, a fine sheen of sweat had broken out on Gabriel's torso, making him glisten in the moonlight. I peeled back his jeans and the sight of his cock made me suck in my breath. I felt, rather than saw, the smile on his face.

“Do you normally go commando?” I asked him, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“I think I will from now on.”

I wasn't about to complain, thinking perhaps it was a good job I hadn't had a zipper to deal with after all. I could have done some serious damage in my eagerness to get his pants off. I tugged playfully at the waistband of his jeans. I really needed them off.

“Give me a minute.”

His eyes had a semi-glazed look as he placed the sole of one foot against the heel of the other and kicked off his boots. Licking his lips, he lifted his hips for me, and his jeans sailed unceremoniously across the porch. When I nudged the side of his leg with my knee, Gabriel obediently opened for me. I grabbed a cushion and dropped it on the deck before kneeling between his legs.

Whatever his experience, and I knew for sure there had only been one virgin in my bed last night, his comprehension of what was about to happen suddenly hit home. He looked down at me with eyes that said he didn't quite believe what I was going to do. I hesitated, not knowing whether his surprise was with me or the act itself. What if he didn't like it? What if he'd had a bad experience?

“Is this okay?” I asked hesitantly.

“Oh . . . yeah . . .” The expression on his face said this was very much okay. “But you don't have to—” I silenced him by pressing my fingers against his mouth, and whatever he saw on my face banished any doubts he might have had about my participation.

He was hard and thick, impressive in both length and girth, and I swallowed, pretty amazed with myself that I had been able to take all of him the night before. There was no way I could repeat that with my mouth, but I knew I could do enough to achieve what we both wanted. Sliding my palms slowly up and down the length of him, I watched in fascination as he abandoned himself to the sensation.

Throwing back his head, Gabriel stretched his arms along the top of the swing seat, his fingers gripping the frame hard enough to whiten his knuckles. With every stroke of my hands, his muscles clenched. Chest expanding, abdomen rippling, his body moved with the rhythm I created. Leaning forward, I flicked a nipple with my tongue before scraping the hard nub lightly with my teeth. A rumble of pleasure came from deep inside his chest.

I ran the pad of my thumb lightly over the tip of his cock, feeling a tremor shudder through him. He wasn't going to last much longer. It was time something other than my hands got busy.

For a moment I thought he was having a full body spasm because when I wrapped my lips over the head of his cock, sliding him into my mouth, it felt as if every muscle in his body stretched itself to the absolute limit but forgot how to relax again. Gently I stroked a hand across his lower belly as the other continued to move up and down his shaft.

He freed one of his own from the death grip it had on the swing seat and buried it in my hair, relaxing his body so he could enjoy what was happening. My mouth couldn't get enough of him, my tongue stroking itself around his rigid flesh, lapping along the ridge of his foreskin, dipping inside the dimple at the tip. Increasing the pressure of my hand at the base of his shaft, I let my tongue take a back seat, allowing Gabriel to dictate the pace as he moved in and out of my mouth.

I cupped his balls. Heavy and full, they overflowed my palm, but I massaged them gently and was rewarded by the sharp intake of breath that came from above my head. Gabriel's chest heaved as he tried to draw in more air. His thighs trembled against my rib cage, his calves tightened as they jammed into place behind my legs, and then his hips began to pump in earnest. I glanced up at him from beneath my lashes. His eyes were hooded neon slits that stared down at me while he danced the tip of his tongue across his full bottom lip.

He was close to coming. I could see it in the striated bicep of the arm that still gripped the swing. I could
feel
it. Maximizing the pressure of my lips around him, I stretched my fingers, encircling as much of his cock as I could while moving my hand faster. Unexpectedly, Gabriel threw back his head and yelled, startling our voyeuristic owl from his perch. Arching his back, he thrust forward with his hips, and I automatically relaxed my throat and swallowed, taking him down in a warm salty rush, while gently milking him with both hands. When I felt his body ease, his fingers releasing their grip on my hair, I gently slipped him out of my mouth, taking a last satisfied sweep over his tip with my tongue.