As if.
He had to give her credit. She was one hell of an actress. Then and now.
Desperate sounds worked their way past her luscious lips as he touched her. Her breasts plumped beneath his fingertips. Her nipples hardened.
He moved lower, stroking the heat between her legs, plunging, mimicking what he was going to do to her. He slipped his hands between her legs to find her warm and slick and oh, so ready.
She managed to tear her lips away. “No,” she gasped the minute his fingertip pushed a delicious inch into her steamy heat. “Not like this…I…” She licked her lips, her eyes bright with desire. “I—I want you inside of me.”
He wanted it, too.
He wanted to bury himself deep and forget the rest of the world and explode.
A realization that made him all the more determined to hold back.
The way he would with any woman.
That’s all she was to him.
Any woman.
Every woman.
He ignored the last thought and slid a finger deep inside of her. She moaned, the sound vibrating up her throat, feeding the excitement that coiled inside of him.
“No,” she said again when he plunged a second finger inside, but the word was softer, weaker.
He withdrew and pushed back in. Her muscles quivered around him, and a drop of wetness slid across his palm. Her lips trembled as he took her mouth in another kiss. Deeper than the last. Hotter. Wetter.
He pleasured her with his hand and his mouth for the next several moments until she clung to him. A soft cry bubbled from her lips. A tremor went through her, and energy rushed into him from every point of contact.
He fixated on the empowering buzz and let it feed his strength. His senses sharpened and magnified and the fog in his head seemed to clear.
But it wasn’t enough, he realized when her climax subsided and the buzz faded to a distant hum. The beast stirred, restless and demanding and not the least bit satisfied, and a growl worked its way up his throat.
The deep rumbling pushed past the ringing in Viv’s ears and drew her gaze to his. She pulled away to stare up at him.
His eyes fired with a predatory light. A hiss slid past his lips and he opened his mouth. His fangs flashed, gleaming in the moonlight, and a crazy excitement welled inside of her.
Crazy because she couldn’t let him actually bite her. She wouldn’t. If he drank from her, or vice versa, it would forge a nearly unbreakable bond between them. They would be one.
He would know her darkest fears and her deepest secrets.
He would know the truth.
She stumbled back, but he refused to let her retreat. He matched her step for step until she came up against one of the massive trees that circled the clearing.
Gone was the passionate man who’d pleasured her for hours on end. Instead, he’d turned into a raw primitive savage.
A vampire.
The truth stirred a wave of guilt, but then he reached for her.
One hand dove into the hair at the base of her skull while the other pressed into the small of her back. He tugged her head back until her neck was fully exposed. The sharp edge of his fangs grazed the tender flesh, rasping and prickling just enough to draw one sweet drop.
She hissed, warning him away, but he wasn’t about to be put off.
He followed the crimson trail with his seductive mouth and licked his way over her clavicle, down the slope of her breast until it reached her nipple.
He sucked her into his mouth, and a burst of pleasure sliced through her from her head clear to her toes.
But while he rasped her with his fangs, he didn’t sink them deep. She realized then that he didn’t want the bond between them any more than she did.
Relief swept through her, followed by a surge of disappointment.
He didn’t give her a chance to analyze the strange reaction. He urged her down to the soft grass and straddled her.
The faded material of his wet jeans hugged his hard thighs, showing every ripple of muscle. His bare torso gleamed with a fine sheen of water that caught flickers of moonlight.
She reached up and trailed her hands along his slick muscled flesh. His shoulders rippled and bulged beneath her palms. She splayed her fingers in the hair covering his chest, her touch tentative, restrained as she followed the whorl of silk as it narrowed and descended to his abdomen. She stopped just shy of the waistband to his jeans.
Her hunger raged, urging her on. She balled her fingers against the need. Her body stiffened. She forced her gaze away, up over his rock-hard abdomen, his broad chest, his corded neck, to his face.
His eyes burned, reflecting the pure, ravaging hunger that she felt inside.
“Please,” she heard herself beg. Because she’d gone without the sweet, drenching heat for so long.
Without him.
As if he read her mind, he leaned down. His tongue flicked a ripe nipple, and she gasped. His mouth was hot and wet as he drew her in, tonguing and laving the stiff peak until she arched against him.
“Unzip me,” he said when he finally drew away. He caught her hand and pressed it to his crotch.
Her fingers fluttered over the zipper, the metal hot beneath her touch. Because he was hot, his skin on fire. The air around them shimmered, and she could practically see the sparks in the translucent depths of his eyes.
“I can’t…” Because if she reached out this time, she wouldn’t be able to stop. She would unzip him, roll him over and straddle him, and that would be the kiss of death. He had to be the leader.
“You can,” he said. “And you will.” He leaned down and flicked her nipple again, teasing and torturing even longer this time until she couldn’t not touch him.
The zipper hissed, and he sprang hot and eager into her hands. Her attention riveted on his heated, pulsing flesh. He was as smooth as satin and rock-hard.
She trailed her fingers over him, touching the ripe head of his desire. He jumped in her hands, and she barely resisted the urge to dip her head, to taste him.
Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss that surprised them both. It was a bold move, but not half as aggressive as what she wanted to do to him.
Her passion seemed to feed his, and soon he was back in the driver’s seat. He kissed her harder, faster, deeper. He pulled away long enough to peel off the wet jeans and then he joined her on the soft grass.
He parted her legs and settled himself between them. He rasped his erection up and down her slick folds before entering her in one powerful surge.
The sudden sense of fullness deep inside sent shock-waves pulsing through her body. Her inner muscles contracted, sucking him in. Pressure erupted in her belly.
He started to move, plunging and withdrawing, over and over, and the pressure mounted. His movements picked up and he pumped harder, faster, pushing her closer to the edge just the way he had so many times in the past.
But the heat felt sweeter this time, sharper, more intense than anything in her memory.
The pinnacle was steeper this time, the crest higher. When she finally reached the top and plunged over the edge into orgasmic bliss, it was much more powerful than anything she remembered.
Sensation crashed over her and sucked her under for several long moments. Her heart pounded, and her blood rushed. Her body clenched around his and held on. Pleasure drenched her, all-consuming for the next few moments as her heart stopped and her body clenched.
She stared up at him, into him, waiting for the rush of warmth as he followed her over the edge.
But instead of pushing even deeper and letting himself go, he pulled out a few inches until only the very tip of his erection stayed inside. His muscles bunched as he held himself back and loomed over her. His eyes grew even brighter and a growl rumbled from deep in his chest. He trembled as he drank in the sweet sexual energy of her climax.
She felt the draw where the very tip of his penis nestled inside her slick folds. The tremb
le of flesh against flesh turned her on as much as the actual sex. Her nipples throbbed, and her clit started to quiver again. Her body vibrated, and sensation rushed through her.
And then all of a sudden it was happening again. Pleasure crashed over her. She cried out, closing her eyes and arching against him for several long moments.
Until her body calmed enough for her to open her eyes.
She found him still poised above her, his body tense, his teeth clamped together as if he’d been waiting on her to look up before he let himself go.
Sheer longing flashed in his gaze. Or so she thought. But then he blinked, and the emotion faded into the icy blue depths of his eyes and he did the last thing she expected.
He pulled away.
“We should be getting back.” His voice was gruff as he turned away from her, his erection still rock-hard. He reached for his jeans. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“I…” She caught her bottom lip to stop its sudden trembling as she pushed herself into a sitting position and tried to calm the shock beating at her temples. “I—I need to get back to work myself.”
Silence stretched around them as he stepped into his jeans and pulled them on. A hiss vibrated up his throat as he tugged the zipper over his erection. She almost reached out for him. A few strokes of her hand, the warm heat of her mouth, and she could give him the release he so desperately needed.
Then again, maybe he didn’t need her. Maybe he wasn’t aching or hurting.
Maybe he was more than satisfied from her climax alone.
The possibility haunted her as he helped her to her feet. There were no lingering touches. Rather, he dropped her hand as quickly as possible. In the blink of an eye, he stood on the opposite river bank where the motorcycles sat.
By the time she joined him, he’d retrieved the spare shirt he’d mentioned earlier from beneath his seat. He tossed it to her before turning to pick up his own T-shirt that still lay where he’d left it.
Her gaze went to the water. She’d done her striptease on the river, which meant that her own clothes were several feet under by now. She debated a quick dive to see if she could find at least her undies, but Garret straddled his motorcycle and gunned the engine and she knew she didn’t have time.
Not if she was going to follow him back.
She slipped the giant T-shirt over her head. The cotton dropped to mid-thigh which afforded her enough modesty to climb onto her own motorcycle.
“Let’s go.” He didn’t wait for a reply. He gunned the engine, shifted into gear and took off as if the Devil himself were in hot pursuit.
Viv blinked back the sudden stinging behind her eyes, gunned the engine and followed.
You did it, she reminded herself as she trailed behind.
Sex.
Orgasm.
Shazam!
Oddly enough, she didn’t feel any more satisfied than when they’d first ridden out to the river.
It was the bike, of course.
She wasn’t wearing undies, and the steady pulse of the engine was getting to her.
No way was she feeling so out of sorts because Garret hadn’t had his own orgasm. So what if he’d held himself back, content just to drink up her energy?
He was a vampire, and that’s what vampires did. Sure, he never would have done such a thing if he’d been human, but he wasn’t. And what difference did it make anyway?
She hadn’t come to Skull Creek to give him an orgasm. She’d come in pursuit of her own.
Which meant that what he had or hadn’t felt didn’t concern her. She’d accomplished her goal, end of story.
That’s what she told herself. But she couldn’t shake the hollowness in the pit of her stomach or the ache in her chest. Feelings that magnified when she followed him into the back parking lot of Skull Creek Choppers.
He was already climbing off his chopper when she killed the engine. “You can leave the keys in the ignition. I’ll grab them later.” And then he turned and walked away from her without so much as a “See ya.”
Viv watched him disappear through the back door before she climbed off the chopper and headed for her car. A lump worked its way up her throat as she climbed behind the wheel and headed back to the motel.
She swallowed and blinked frantically a few times. She wasn’t going to cry. She should be happy. She was happy.
She’d done it. She’d had an honest-to-God orgasm.
And just in the nick of time, she realized when she reached her motel room.
The thought struck the moment she unlocked the door and stared into the pitch-black interior. She stalled in the doorway. Awareness crawled down her spine and her survival instincts fired to life.
Turn. Fight. Run.
No more.
She closed her eyes as the shadows closed in and a hand clamped around her throat.
It was finally time to set things right.
17
IN THE BLINK of an eye, she found herself whirled around and shoved up against the nearest wall by a hard male body. Bright green eyes stared down at her, and her memory stirred.
“Sheriff Keller?” Her gaze sliced through the darkness and drank in the familiar face of Matt Keller, the sheriff who’d threatened her with trespassing and escorted her off the mountain in Washington.
“No, it’s the Easter Bunny.”
It was him, all right.
He stood well over six feet with dark black hair cut short and neat. A day’s growth of stubble shadowed his angular jaw. A scar zig-zagged its way from his temple down his right cheek. He wasn’t the most handsome man, but he had a rough edge about him that no doubt attracted more than his share of women.
She wasn’t one of them, of course. Despite the hunger that lived and breathed inside of her, she hadn’t been the least bit attracted when she’d first met him.
She’d been too preoccupied with her story, too worked up over the strange prickling awareness that Cruz and Molly were catching up to her.
“You went back to the crime scene,” he told her, “I know because we found a strange DNA on the front porch.” His gaze hardened. “You compromised the evidence.”
“I didn’t mean to. I—I went back to get a few pictures and I cut myself.”
“There was an awful lot of blood for a minor cut.”
“I’m a heavy bleeder.”
He didn’t look as if he bought the explanation, but he let go of her anyway. But not before his gaze brightened to a brilliant, glowing green, and she started to wonder if there was more than rugged good looks feeding Matt Keller’s success with the ladies.
Especially when she stared deep into his eyes and saw…nothing. No hang-ups. No family history. No work-related goals or plans for the future. Just a blank wall.
A vampire?
Nah. She would have sensed as much. As it was, she felt only a humming awareness, as if Molly and Cruz were close. But not too close.
Not yet.
She stared into Matt’s eyes, searching for some clue that he was anything other than a human who’d managed to shield his thoughts. Some could, particularly if they knew there were vampires out there trying to crawl into their heads. She focused all of her attention, determined to crack the wall and see the truth.
As if he knew what she was up to, he turned away, averting those glowing green eyes as he flipped on a nearby light.
“There,” he said. “That’s better.” He closed the motel room door. “Now we can talk.”
“About?”
“The Butcher. You went back to the scene of the crime. You took pictures. You gathered evidence. I want it.”
“But I didn’t. I meant to, but then I—” she swallowed “—cut myself and I had to leave to find a first aid kit.”
He didn’t buy it, but he didn’t call her out, either. “Still, you’ve been following the case from day one. The West Hollywood murder. The Portland couple. You’ve taken pictures and asked questions and I figure you know a helluva lot more than you realize.”<
br />
“So you came all the way to Texas to pick my brain?”
“I’m this close to cracking the case—and that’s the problem. I’m too close to the killer.” He shook his head. “I thought if we compared notes, it might help me figure out what I’m missing. This guy claims he’s a celebrity, and you know celebrities.”
Which is why she’d gotten involved in the first place. Gossip rags didn’t cover grisly murders unless there was the possibility of something really sensational. Like Brad Pitt or Tom Hanks or some other A-list actor being possessed by the ghost of Ted Bundy.
It wasn’t all that likely, but then neither was the three-headed alien baby born in Oregon.
“I seriously doubt my notes could help you very much.”
“I’ll be the judge of that once you hand them over.”
“I’d be happy to, but I gave everything to my editor at the magazine.” Along with her resignation. She scribbled down a phone number. “Call and ask for Louise. Tell her I gave you the number. I’m sure she can e-mail you a copy of my notes.”
He nodded. “I talked to her when I started looking for you.” He must have noticed her curious expression because he added, “I followed your paper trail. You used your Visa to buy the airline ticket from L.A. to San Antonio. From there, I followed you to a gas station about twenty miles up on the interstate. I made a few phone calls to the surrounding towns until I hit pay dirt here. Some clerk answered at the motel, and when I mentioned your name, he seemed nervous. Now I know why.”
“You couldn’t have just tracked down my cell phone number and called me up?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think about it.”
Yeah, right. A phone number was more than a logical answer if all he’d wanted was to ask her a few questions. Unless he hadn’t been half as anxious to talk to her as he was to find out her whereabouts.
To find her.
Unconsciously, her hand went to her throat, her fingers searching for the comforting warmth of her St. Benedict medal before she remembered that she’d stashed it in her suitcase.
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