A Vampire's Promise (8 page)

“Goddammit!” He ran it all together like one word. “I'm sorry, I should have known better. Too much, too soon, right?”

“No, you're just fine,” I reassured him, my voice breathy.

While I was thrilled to know he felt the same attraction I did, I was also scared to death that this would turn into another dismal failure. And I couldn't bear to have that happen. Not with him.

Before this moment, sex had never been a subject that I spent a lot of time obsessing over. I'm pretty sure my prior unsuccessful attempts were the reason for my disinclination to review the matter. The prospect of sex leading me into foolish or reckless behavior had always been laughable, until now. It had been a while since I'd had anything more than a lukewarm interest in a guy, but what was running through me now was a ravenous force that threatened to overwhelm me. An oxyacetylene torch had fired up, and my body was responding to Gabriel with a need I didn't know I was capable of feeling.

Unfortunately, this newfound lust, no matter how compelling, also brought with it a major obstacle. My relative lack of experience with sex. Of course I know all the mechanics. I was probably one of the few kids who actually paid attention in sex ed class, and I have a more than passing knowledge of foreplay, but I've never actually closed the deal. As far as sex goes, I've only got my learner's permit.

My brain suddenly balked at the idea of telling this walking aphrodisiac the full extent of my inexperience. Even if gut instinct said he would have no problem finishing what he started. Broken zipper? Hah! He'd just rip the offending article of clothing off with his bare hands. Muscle cramps? Plow right through them! Premature ejaculation? Never gonna happen!

With Gabriel I had the feeling there would be no frustrated, unfulfilled promises. This was a man who could realize every sexual fantasy I had, and then give me some I hadn't even thought of. So would it be too terrible to let him figure out for himself that I was still technically a virgin? Provided of course we actually made it to the naked-in-bed scenario.

Abruptly he let go of me and stepped away. The expression on his face was searching. Without thinking, I looked at his erection pushing hard against the denim of his jeans, my brain as scrambled as my libido.

“I need to go home,” I muttered awkwardly.

My body protested, screaming for more up-close and personal contact with his. Perhaps Gabriel was right. It was too much, too soon, and tempting as the back seat of his car might be, I didn't want to do something I would later regret. If I was going to lose my virginity, then it would happen in the proper surroundings. And preferably in a bed.

Gabriel stared at me, and I saw something in his face I hadn't noticed before. A sudden vulnerability. In a flash of intuition I realized that in spite of his good looks, or perhaps because of them, I wasn't the only one holding something back. Being beautiful can open up a lot of doors, but that doesn't necessarily mean they all should be opened. Some are best kept closed. And tightly locked.

Yeah sure, Gabriel was drop-dead gorgeous, a feast for the eyes in more ways than one, but there was more to him than that. There had to be. How often had anyone ever bothered to look beneath the surface to see what was behind the window dressing? What dreams did he have? What hopes? What fears? I wasn't the only one who needed some reassurance.

“You're gonna call me, right?”

Lifting his head, he gave me a look that was so sensual it almost took my breath away. “Yeah, I'm gonna call.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak. Another look like that and to hell with regrets, I'd let him take me across the hood of the Fairlane any way he wanted. I turned with my hand on the door of the POS. “Can I ask you something?”

He inclined his head. “Of course.” He was, if nothing else, unfailingly polite.

“What
were
you doing out here last night?” I nodded toward the building at the other end of the lot, noticing it was completely dark now. “Really.”

A slight hesitation, barely an intake of breath, but I noticed it. “I don't understand what you mean.”

“Oh c'mon, let's not play games.” This had been bugging me ever since I first saw him leaning against the bar. “You don't belong in a place like this, no matter how much you try to dress down, and I don't think any woman in her right mind would stand you up.”

“Why not? You thought about doing it.”

Ouch. “Yeah, but I didn't follow through, did I?”

He smiled at me, a heartbreaking lift of his lips. I had to stop myself from reaching up and putting my fingers against his mouth.

“I never said I was stood up.” No, he hadn't. “I only said I was waiting for someone.” He looked thoughtful. “So tell me, Rowan, where do I look like I belong?”

I could feel my cheeks heating up as I shrugged. “Oh, I don't know, some swanky nightclub in either L.A. or New York.” And with someone who looks like Katja on your arm, I added silently.

“What is it you really want to ask me?”

It sounded as if I was questioning his motives, and he'd given me no reason to be mistrustful. “Just what I said. What were you doing out here last night?”

“I already told you . . . I was waiting for someone.”

Are you sure you really want to know?

Yeah, I did. “For who?” I asked, my voice barely registering.

He smoothed the hair away from either side of my face with his palms, and then caught the curls at the nape of my neck and leaned into me. I thought he was going to kiss me as a way of avoiding the question, but he didn't. Instead, he tilted his head and began to nuzzle the side of my neck, caressing my skin with his tongue, and nipping lightly with his teeth. It was the most incredible turn-on, and the muscles in my legs trembled.

“For you, Rowan,” he whispered, catching my earlobe between his teeth and tugging gently. “I've spent an eternity waiting for you.”

If any other guy had said such a thing to me I would have laughed, but here's the thing. I never once doubted the sincerity of his words. And this time my heart did stop. I swear it actually missed a beat, stumbling before playing catch-up with the rhythm. Gabriel started to lift his head, but my hand pressing against the back of his neck stopped him, surprising both of us. In his eyes I could see a glimmer of hesitation. He was no more certain than I about what we were doing.

You know who I am.

The words echoed gently in my head. Did I? I wasn't a hundred percent sure, but I was more than willing to explore the possibilities.

I pulled his face closer. “Then what took you so long to find me?” I said, brushing my lips gently over his.

I
was dreaming. I knew this because, like most dreams, there were clues that told me I wasn't in my own reality. The bed was definitely one of them. A huge four-poster affair big enough to accommodate six people, with room to spare. Plus the sheets were a dead giveaway. One day I am going to buy a set of red satin sheets for no other reason than I can. But that day hasn't arrived. Yet.

Then, there was my clothing. Depending on the season, I sleep in either a T-shirt and shorts or a T-shirt and long flannel pants. None of which has a single strip of lace or romantic ruffle anywhere. In my dream, I was wrapped in a white lacy sheath, ruffled at the edges and held closed by a satin bow strategically tied between my breasts. And no panties. I can only assume the color choice was my subconscious's way of proclaiming my virginal state.

However, the biggest clue of all, the one that said without a doubt I was in fantasy la-la land, was the snow. Flakes the size of my hand were falling all around the California king-size bed. Not actually on the bed itself, you understand, but just beyond the perimeter. Oh, and I wasn't cold. I am sure some therapist who analyzes dreams would tell me the snow was another reference to you-know-what, but he'd be wrong. I think my mind conjured it up for no reason other than I like it. After all, I was born in winter, it is my favorite season, and I always regret living too far south for snow.

“Does it please you?”

The sound of Gabriel's voice was warm and melodic. I wasn't surprised he was in my dream. Why else would I be going to all this trouble if not for him? Or was it because of him? I was a little fuzzy on that point. Turning my head, I saw him standing just beyond the foot of the bed, and watched the snow as it fell on his head and shoulders. Holding out his arms, he gestured to a sky that I couldn't see, and I thought about his question, wondering whose dream this really was.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“How could I not? Your dreams, your hopes, your desires, you have shared them all with me. You don't remember . . . but you will.”

His answer didn't surprise me, and it didn't alarm me either. In dreams, everything is perfectly reasonable, plausible, and acceptable. He lowered his arms and smiled at me, and any uncertainty on my part vanished.

Somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I could feel the heat evolving as it flared to life. Gabriel began unbuttoning his shirt, the same black silk he'd worn on our date. I felt my breath catch as each button that slipped free revealed more skin. He moved slowly, more slowly than I would have done, teasing me with glimpses of his body, and then slipped the shirt off his shoulders, at which point it dropped out of sight.

He was so indescribably beautiful.

The ambient light played with the sculpted musculature of his body, creating hollows and planes that teased my senses. I watched his abdomen tighten, the muscles rippling as he unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and let them join the shirt. His legs were strong, heavy thighs straining against the edge of black boxers. And that wasn't all that was straining. I decided to see if this really was my dream. If so, then Gabriel would follow my lead. I wanted the boxers to stay. For now. He smiled, hooking a thumb inside the waistband . . . and hesitated.

I could only imagine what my face looked like. It must have been flushed fire engine red, but I didn't care. Putting a knee on the bed and wearing a sinfully erotic smile, Gabriel came toward me. He moved with the grace of a predator, prowling across a red satin landscape. I thought of a leopard, all golden pelt and powerful rolling shoulders as he came closer. Leaning back on my elbows, I watched him stalk me, forgetting how to breathe.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

My heart was going ape shit inside my rib cage. Gabriel had one hand planted next to my hip, and with the other he reached forward and tugged on the satin bow between my breasts. The filmy sheath I was wearing dissolved, falling away from my body and turning me into my own image of carnal decadence. Naked, breathless, and lying on red satin sheets. Holding me fast with his eyes, Gabriel stroked his hand over my skin. Long elegant fingers sweeping across my flesh, raising goose bumps that had nothing to do with the falling snow. Moving back a little, he dipped his head, and I shivered with delight at the silky feel of his hair whispering over my thighs. It was exactly as I had imagined. And then his hand caught the curve of my waist, sliding around me, encouraging me to raise my hips.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

He brought himself closer, long white hair sliding across my stomach, up my rib cage, and over my breasts. With my palms against his chest, I felt movement as he inhaled, his breath ragged and deep while he struggled to maintain control. Nudging my legs apart with his knee, he settled himself against me, letting me feel him through the thin material of his boxers, and I gasped. God, he was big!

Anxiety took hold as the thought struck me that I might not be able to take him, my body unable to stretch far enough to sheath him, but then I realized I was worrying needlessly. My body wanted him, had wanted him from the first time I'd seen him, and it would not refuse him. I was on fire, and he was all I wanted.

He made a sound that came from deep in his throat as he slipped both arms around me and moved his mouth close to my ear.

“Rowan . . .”

Thump! Thump! Thump!

“Rowan . . .” Lips grazing over my jaw, pulling on my earlobe, trailing a sensuous path down my neck. “I don't think they're going away.”

“Going . . . what?” My hair spilled over my face as I pushed him off me and sat up.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

It wasn't my heart doing a rhumba in my chest after all. Someone was knocking—no, make that pounding—on the frickin' door! But this was my dream and there wasn't a door. I hadn't asked for a door. Only a spectacular bed, Gabriel, and snow. Oodles and oodles of snow. And then I saw it. The white curtain of ice crystal flakes lifted just enough for me to see the outline of a door beyond the foot of the bed. The sight raised enough doubt to make me think this might not be my dream after all. Right on cue, the thumping sound came again. Louder and more insistent. I sighed. My lover was right; whoever it was did not intend to go away. I had no choice but to go answer the damn door.

Reaching for me, Gabriel pressed his lips against the curve of my neck, the tip of his tongue tracing small circles on my skin.

“Will you still be here when I return?” I asked, sliding free of his embrace.

“You think there is somewhere else I would wish to be?”

For some reason his answer did not reassure me, and sensing my uncertainty, Gabriel took my face in his hands and kissed me. It was soft and gentle and very thorough. And all the reassurance I needed.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

I went to answer the door.

 

Rolling over, I opened one eye and saw the clock on my nightstand. The red digital numbers glowed 2:27, and the position of the red dot told me it was afternoon and not the early hours of the morning. I opened the other eye and confirmed I was back in my own bed. Queen size, blue cotton sheets with a white daisy pattern, and no precipitation of any kind inside my bedroom. I pushed down the covers, relieved to find myself wearing shorts and an Indianapolis Colts T-shirt.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Shit! Whoever was at my door had better be bringing me news of an impending global catastrophe or wanting to tell me I'd won the lottery. I wasn't about to forgive anything else.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

“All right, all right—I'm coming!”

Making my way downstairs, I figured it had to be Laycee. Who else would it be on a Sunday afternoon? And I decided that yanking me out of a fantastically hot erotic dream had earned her a verbal beat-down at the very least. Twisting the dead bolt, I yanked the door open, and my mouth formed a near perfect O of shocked surprise. I sure wasn't expecting this type of company.

The woman standing on my doorstep was a petite brunette wearing a pale lemon skirt and jacket ensemble trimmed with white piping. The swatch of lace modestly covering her cleavage told me these were Sunday church clothes. I found myself inexplicably drawn to the large sunflower earrings she wore, wondering if they hurt her ears. Her dark hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and tied off with a matching pale yellow scarf. She carried no purse, but the heels she was wearing were more suited to a strip joint than a house of worship. Definite CFMPs. Talk about sending mixed messages, but maybe I was reading too much into it. Yeah, the hooker heels were probably just because she was vertically challenged. She'd also been crying—a lot. It was hard not to notice. What had once been a carefully made-up face was now a train wreck of smudged mascara and eyeliner.

I stared at Suellen DuPree.

I'm not sure what she was expecting when I opened the door, but the tight, disapproving line that was her mouth said it wasn't me in my pajamas at two-thirty in the afternoon with a bad case of bed hair. I came fully awake in an instant.

“Fuck me.”

The words accidentally fell from my lips and were loud enough for my visitor to hear as one thought ran screaming through my head.
She knows about Laycee and Jake
.

It was just a matter of time. In most small towns, secrets are community property, and ours was no exception. Someone had obviously decided it was time to check their own superior moral compass by bringing the sheriff's wife up to speed. And now Suellen was on my doorstep wanting me to confirm that what she'd been told about my best friend was true. Of course I intended to lie my ass off.

She stood there staring at me. It didn't take a genius to see her crying jag had been put on the back burner for the time being, and now she was madder than hell.

“Well, I think that just about covers it, Rowan Harper,” she said in response to my slip of the tongue.

Her voice was amazingly calm, and for a moment I was fooled into thinking I was mistaken. That she was here for some other, completely innocuous reason and her husband's infidelity was still a secret. Regrettably her face hollered “fat chance.”

It crossed my mind that I was being impolite by keeping her on the doorstep, and I was actually making a motion to invite her inside when my face exploded. Bells that would put Notre Dame Cathedral to shame went off inside my head, and I got a multicolored light show courtesy of the fist that connected with my right cheekbone. I had no idea the mother of two, a woman barely over five foot three—okay, five foot six in the hooker heels—could pack a punch that hard. My face hurt like hell.

“Did you think I wouldn't find out, you whoring bitch?” she exploded. The calm demeanor had been replaced by a shrillness that would have made any fishwife proud. “Did you think I'm so stupid you could flaunt it in my face and get away with it? Fucking my husband in your house in the middle of the day!”

My hand flew to my face, and my vision blurred as hot tears threatened to spill. Damn it! I sure as hell didn't want to give Suellen DuPree the satisfaction of knowing she'd made me cry. I took a step back into my hallway, horrified when it looked as if she was going to follow me. Alarmed, I held out a hand to stop her, but not before I got a glimpse of the bewilderment filling her own eyes. Guess hitting me hadn't been part of her original idea. It was a safe bet that she was more surprised than I at the result.

Taking advantage of her hesitation, I slammed the front door shut, which only enraged her further. She began pounding on the wood with her fist and screeching like a banshee. Thanks to my throbbing face, I only caught every third or fourth word, but judging from the workout she gave
slut, bitch,
and
whore,
I guessed her husband's affair was no longer a secret. And confirmed Suellen had a limited vocabulary.

In all fairness, I was partly to blame for her putting two and two together and coming up with five. Allowing Laycee and Jake to use my house for clandestine lunches might not have been such a good idea after all. I wouldn't put it past Suellen to have had Jake followed, but whoever was spying for her had done a half-assed job. Seeing Jake, or more likely his cruiser, parked in my driveway, they had assumed I was the “other woman,” convincing Suellen her husband was sleeping with me. If my face didn't hurt so much, I would have laughed myself silly.

The sound of squealing tires told me my visitor had left. I sighed with relief and let the tears fall. My cheek was throbbing and my vision was going blurry, which meant my eye was starting to swell. Dropping my hand, I saw a smear of blood in my palm, which scared the crap out of me. I ran to the bathroom.

Suellen loved costume jewelry, especially big clunky cocktail rings, and she had been wearing one on the hand she'd punched me with. It had caught me in just the right spot, opening the skin below my eye. Thankfully, the cut didn't look too bad, and the bleeding had stopped by the time I got the first aid kit out from under the sink. My reflection in the bathroom mirror said a Band-Aid was only going to make me look worse. Some things Spongebob just wasn't meant for.

I rinsed a washcloth in some cold water and held it to my face. My eye hurt and the skin was already beginning to discolor, but the cool water felt good. Carefully I wiped the rest of my face. It seemed there was destined to be more than one train wreck in town this afternoon. I was going to have one hell of a shiner.

Coming back down to the kitchen, I got a package of corn from the freezer, and held it to my face while I rummaged in my purse for my cell phone. I needed to give Laycee a heads-up about her boyfriend's wife. She picked up right before it went to voice mail.

“Yeah?” From the way she mumbled, I hadn't been the only one still abed past noon.

“Did I wake you?”