What was happening between them? He didn't need to ask that one. Vickie was attracted to him. Her reaction when she bent over him in the woods, hadn't just been neighborly concern.
So, it was mutual lust. He grinned. Nothing quite like it as far as he was concerned. The need that had simmered since he'd fed just after sunset, roared in his mind and stirred his body something wonderful.
Wonderful! Yes, he'd make it wonderful. He'd caress her slowly, taking his time, savoring the softness of her skin, her wondrous curves, and her beautiful breasts. He'd kiss her pink nipples until they hardened under his lips. He wanted to taste her, all of her: the soft roundness of her belly, the smooth insides of the thighs, the sweetness of her core. He couldn't wait until…
She banged the kettle on the stove as he stepped into the kitchen. She'd turned the lights on and got the first clear sight of him. He followed her horrified gaze. His right jeans leg was ripped and soaked with blood up to his thigh. As they both stared, a hopeful fly landed on the still-drying blood.
"Pete," she said, her voice not completely steady. "You might be immune to all the normal microbes that attack humans, but do you really want to sit around like that?"
She was right. She was also accepting he'd stay around awhile. And yes, he did look a fright. "Mind if I take a shower?" He was pushing his luck, but…
"Give me a minute."
She left him standing in the kitchen, watching the kettle on the flame, but was back in moments. "I put out fresh towels for you. I don't have any clean clothes that will fit but I did find a pair of overalls that belonged to my gramp. They stink of mothballs, but are clean. If you like, I'll fling your clothes in the wash."
"No, thanks." He smiled to take away the sting of his refusal. "Give me a plastic trash bag and I'll take them home with me." He couldn't let her find the camera he carried, or the sealed bags for samples, and especially not the small, but efficient, tranquilizer gun he'd never had occasion to use—yet.
He wrapped them carefully in his undershirt and rolled them up inside his clothes as he stripped off and prepared to step in the shower. Hot first, to get rid of the blood and dirt, followed by a good, cold dousing.
Vickie went into the kitchen. She could not stay in the living room. Listening to Pete Falcon in the shower was way too much at the end of a very long night. Between events in the woods, her wild dreams earlier, Pete's incredible statement that he was a vampire, and the impossibility of a mangled ankle healing miraculously, she was feeling more than a little frazzled. She reached for two mugs. She had no idea if Pete liked mint tea, but she needed soothing.
Or did she?
Maybe a wild night with Pete Falcon was exactly what she needed. Might at least get the man out of her system. He was hot, sexy, and his whole bearing suggested he'd be darn good in bed. He was a kook. He thought he was a vampire. She was nuts to even have him in the house. He'd carried her home in his arms after she fainted, after he'd had an injured ankle that healed before her eyes.
The entire evening had to be a wild stress-induced dream.
Noticing the kettle boiling, she dropped two tea bags in the mugs, poured water from the now-boiling kettle, and reached for the honey.
The object of her lust stood not a yard away. Smiling.
Gramps had never looked this sexy in those overalls. Not in her lifetime at least.
She smiled back at Pete, as she set the cups on the old scrubbed table and sat down. "I made us some tea."
"Thanks." He pulled out another chair. "You need to drink a good bit, Vickie. I took far too much from you, but I was in dire need."
They were back here again, right where she wasn't sure she wanted to go, but… "You really did suck my blood, didn't you?"
He nodded. "Yes, out there in the woods, and…" He stopped and shook his head, frowning and looking down at his mug before looking up to fix her with his dark eyes. "Your blood healed me and saved my life. I'll owe you forever for that."
"If you are a vampire…" Something she still doubted and put down to—she wasn't sure what. "How could you have been dying?"
"Iron can harm us, and the teeth of that trap cut through my flesh to the bone."
She'd seen the injuries—and the incredible healing but even so… "I thought it was wooden stakes that did vampires in."
His full lips curled. "You've watched too many 'B' movies. Wood hurts, that's all. Metal hurts too, but saps strength. If I'd still been there at dawn…"
"So the sunlight bit is true?" She couldn't believe she was having this conversation.
He nodded. "For those of us who are newly made."
"And you are… ?"
He paused, as if deciding how to answer. "I was killed not quite a year ago. My transformation happened only a few hours later."
"Oh!" Woefully inadequate, but the best she could manage. What else could she say? He'd been killed. Should she offer condolences? Or congratulations on joining the undead? Under the circumstances, "Oh!" covered things about as well as anything else.
To fill the silence that seemed to stretch between them, Vickie offered him a spoon and the jar of honey and fished out her own tea bag.
"You believe me," he said as he brushed aside her offer of honey. "I half-expected you to call for men in nice, clean, white jackets."
"Yeah, I believe you," she replied as she stirred honey into her tea. She took a sip to test the heat, hoping perhaps the act of swallowing might remove the sensation of utter amazement that threatened to suffocate her. "I wouldn't have if I hadn't seen your leg heal. But I did." She set the mug down on the table with a clunk, aware she was about to spill it, and watched her hands shake as if palsied.
"I've scared the living daylights out of you, haven't I?" He reached across the table, gathering her hands in his. "I never meant to. I shouldn't have told you but you saved me. I couldn't lie."
"You'd have been hard pressed to come up with a convincing lie after what I saw!" Her giggle was halfway to panic. She was totally confused and getting hot and horny for a vampire. The next giggle came out higher pitched. She had to get herself together…
"It's okay," Pete said, raising her hand to his mouth. "I've thrown too much at you. Far too much. I'm sorry."
She looked across the table at Pete Falcon. Took in his now-drying hair, the broad shoulders, covered only by narrow strips of well-washed denim, and the strong hands that held her still-shaking fingers.
She wanted to say something, but had no idea what, and more than words, she wanted… He lifted her hand to his mouth and gently kissed her fingertips. Her mouth went dry. Her throat tightened until she could barely swallow, her heart raced, and as for the rest of her body… Ridiculous after such a gentle kiss. Until he brushed his lips over her knuckles and she whimpered.
"You want it too, don't you?" he asked.
Vickie nodded.
Pete was up out of his seat in a flash. For the second time that night, he swept her up in his arms. Only this time, it wasn't a stride through the moonlit woods, but a few short steps to her bedroom.
"Sure about this?" he asked again as he slid her down his body and set her on her feet.
She grinned and reached up. Running her hands over the back of his head, she pulled off the band that held his pony-tail, and let his still-damp hair spill over his shoulders. "Yes," she replied. "I'm sure."
She might still be dreaming, but never in her wildest moments had she imagined lips like his. Cool. Ardent. Hot. Demanding. Sweeping her along in the strength and desire behind the soft, insistent movements against her mouth. A wild longing stirred deep within her. She kissed him back. As her hands locked behind his head, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground, pressing his lips harder against hers. Another muffled whimper, and her mind zapped. Thinking was too much effort and a major distraction. All she knew, all she wanted to know, was the caress of his mouth on hers, and the sweet, cool pressure of his tongue as her lips parted and he came in deep. She responded with a wil
d, almost animal need.
Long pent-up desire flooded her mind and body. Her tongue returned his caress, until she was taking the lead, demanding more, needing more, wanting everything. Pete took back control, urging and asking as much as she could give. Offering more and more as her hungry desires rose to meet his demands. She was still off the ground. She barely missed it. Pete's power and strength held her, surrounded her, supported her. She eased her hips into his, rubbing her soft belly against the strength of his erection.
This was utter lunacy. Perhaps she'd been sane for far too long.
"Oh, Vickie," Peter muttered as he set her on her feet and looked down at her lust-darkened eyes.
She eased her hands over his near-naked shoulders, caressing his cool skin, before slipping her hand inside the bib of the overall. Right handy garments for what she had in mind.
He chuckled and lifted his mouth off hers. "Out to strip the clothes off me, are you?"
Why not? What she'd already seen suggested the rest would be worth her while. "Yup," she replied, snapping open one buckle. The bib fell and she got a glimpse of his smooth, broad chest, a fine sprinkling of dark hair, and one dark nipple, that was every bit as beautiful as she imagined that first evening. Brushing aside the bib to get a better view of Pete's definitely splendid chest, she leaned forward and gently licked his nipple. In seconds, it was hard and proud. Sure proof that his desire equaled hers. "I'm quite sure," she said, and released the second buckle.
The too-large overalls were around his ankles.
She stared and gasped.
She'd wanted to feel more skin, but such total, utter and exquisite nudity was…
All her wildest dreams come true.
Beautiful was woefully inadequate.
Incredible was a pathetic attempt to describe the sight before her eyes: blue-black hair spilled over his broad shoulders, lying dark against pale skin in the night. She rested her hand on his wide, strong chest, brushing the scattering of dark hair that narrowed and thickened to a dark cloud of curls at his groin. Curls that drew all her attention to his rampant cock.
She licked her lips as blood pounded in her ears and the wild fluttering in her belly spread, until her entire body thrummed with desire.
"Pete," she whispered, her voice low and tight.
"Like what you see?"
Vickie grinned at the mix of male arrogance and suppressed anxiety that tinged his question. "You betcha, fella!"
She brushed her finger over his proud nipple, slowly tracing a line down his chest, over his navel and…
He grabbed her hand. "Something's wrong here. I'm naked and you're still clothed. Can't have that!"
"Do something about it then."
His "something" was to gather her in his arms, and dump her on the crocheted spread. She purred in anticipation as Pete ran his hands up her legs, and brushed gentle circles on her belly.
Her breasts rose and fell with her hastened breathing. "I want you, Pete," she whispered, meeting dark eyes that gleamed with the same fire that burned deep inside her.
Pete kissed her. Softly. Just brushing lips. "You've got me, Vickie." He eased his hands under her T-shirt and gently cupped her firm breasts. She responded immediately, her nipples hardening under his touch. The sweet scent of her arousal filled the quiet room. She wanted him. His heart swelled till it seemed to fill his chest. She was never going to forget this night. Ever.
He'd do anything and everything he knew to make it incredible for her. He eased up her T-shirt, sliding one hand up her back, setting the flat of his hand between her shoulder blades, as he raised her up, slipping off her shirt with his other hand. It took seconds to snap open her bra and drop it on the floor.
She was utterly beautiful. He'd been attracted the first time he saw her. Smitten earlier this evening. Now he was lost. Totally.
He kissed each breast, fluttering his tongue over each firm nipple, drawing the warm flesh into his mouth until she sighed. "Vickie, you are incredible," he whispered. He kissed over her breasts, down to her warm belly. He couldn't hold back his grin. His touch aroused her, and he wasn't stopping until she was totally fulfilled.
He cupped both breasts with his hands. "Your breasts are lovely. Perfect size, too." He eased a hand down and inside the waistband of her jeans. "While I sit here admiring your breasts, you're still not naked."
"Do something about it then, buster."
Who'd refuse that offer? He had her jeans unsnapped faster than she could follow with mortal eyes, and peeled the worn denim down her legs. While he was at it, he whisked off her white cotton panties.
She gave a little gasp as she realized she was naked. "Showing off your vampire speed?"
"Sweetheart, I've only just started." He wanted to love her all night, but he'd taken so much blood. He knew how weak she was, even if she didn't, but he owed her satisfaction after all she'd done for him.
And she was so ready!
The scent of sexy woman filled the room, or maybe it was his own pent-up desires that magnified her blatant need.
"Are you going to grin at me all night or are you going to…" She broke off with a gasp as his mouth fastened on her breast.
Her gasp gave way to little sexy mewls as he suckled one nipple, while his fingers played with the other one. They were hard, pert and sweetly warm.
Just like Vickie Anderson.
She was woman. He was vampire. And he wanted her more than he'd wanted a second chance at life.
She was so marvelous: her gasps, her little sighs, the way she arched on the bed while his hands caressed her belly. When he reached her pussy, she let out a deep, long sigh as he parted her folds and spread her open, so he could feast his eyes and senses.
And his vampire desire.
She was so ready, how could he withstand her want and his need? Setting himself between her spread thighs, he held her hips steady as he eased into her warmth. Her sighs greeted his slow entry. Her cries and gasps of pleasure matched his thrusts. They came together in a wild crescendo of joy that left her limp and sweaty, and him astounded.
She lay spent and gasping on the bed, her eyes misty, and her body flushed with the after-ripples of her orgasm.
Pete rested his hand on her face. "Sleep, Vickie," he said. "Sleep."
She was softly snoring by the time he pulled on his clothes and let himself out of the house.
Chapter Six
« ^ »
Sunshine woke her. How late was it? Not that it mattered. She was in no hurry to wake after her fantastic—and verging on the incredible—dreams. Her night had been filled with Pete—nothing wrong with that, apart from the awful images of his mangled leg caught in a bear trap. But in the way of dreams, his leg healed, and that was when it really went wild. He told her he was a vampire and had carried her home. And made passionate love to her, if her memory was to be trusted.
Come to think of it, she must have climaxed in her dreams. She was wet between her legs and more relaxed than after a full-body massage.
She'd also thrown off her pajamas while she slept.
How on earth had she managed that? She got out of bed to retrieve her discarded jammies, and noticed the damp towels on the bathroom floor.
She never dropped towels on the floor. As she bent to pick up the wet heap, she recognized them as the spare towels she'd set out for Pete in her dream. Either she was sleepwalking to act out her dreams, or Pete had been in her house last night. Which meant…
Vickie sat down on the toilet lid, staring at the bundle of damp towels. It could not be true, but as she looked around, the clothes she'd worn last night were spread over her bedroom floor. She never left her clothes on the floor.
Had Pete really been here? Nonsense, it had to have been a dream. It couldn't be true. Vampires? Self-healing wounds? Mind-numbing sex? No! She'd just been without it so long, was attracted to Pete, and her subconscious had done the rest. She ought to thank her subconscious for the best sex she'd never had. Or had she?
&n
bsp; It was too damn real to be a dream and her sated, relaxed body was not her imagination. But it couldn't have happened. Pete did not carry her home and sit at her kitchen table drinking mint tea, his glorious dark hair damp after a sojourn in her shower.
This needed some good, hard thinking about. A drive up the road to the old fishing cabin where Pete claimed to live might not be a bad idea. On the other hand, perhaps going straight home was a wise move. No way! Whatever had or had not happened between them, she needed to know for sure. Sure about what? That her nearest neighbor was a vampire and she'd had sex with him and yearned for more?
She had been dreaming!
And right now, someone was hammering on the door. Vickie was tempted to ignore it, but she reached for clean shorts and T-shirt. Might as well see who it was.
One glance through the glass panel in the door and she regretted that decision. It was Sonny Adams.
Vickie left the screen door latched. Just stood in the doorway. No way was Sonny crossing the threshold into rooms that held thoughts—or dreams—of Pete.
"You been having trouble up here?" Sonny asked, after barely acknowledging her cool greeting.
"What sort of trouble?" She restrained herself from saying, None, until you knocked on my door. Grandma would have said it was rude.
"Outsiders, people who don't belong. Poking around where they have no business."
"Sonny, you're the only person I've seen this morning."
"What about last night?"
She'd like that answered herself, but Sonny Adams was not the one to help. "What was there to see?"
He shrugged. "Just wondered. Looks as though someone's been up this away. That guy up in the old fishing place, you seen him?"
Quite possibly, everything there was to see of him. "I saw him go by on his motorcycle." Complete truth, that. She gave a sigh. "Why not ask him?"
"He int there. The place is all shut up. Sure you int seen him?"
"You're the first person I've seen since I woke up. Besides, what are you getting upset about? It's summer. There's bound to be people about. We're darn lucky we don't get campers and picnickers up here!"
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