But she consoled herself with the idea that maybe Heath felt the same way, and it’d all be happy clappy. Maybe he wasn’t interested in anything more than sex, and just because that made her heart clench and her teeth grind together, and that it hurt more than she was willing to admit, was neither here nor there. Last night, while Heath had slept, his even breathing rhythmically mesmerizing her, she’d decided fair was fair. She had nothing to offer but the here and now. And she wanted to enjoy the here and now, but not at someone else’s expense—so clarity was in order.
So, yeah. She was going to clarify—like she’d done this a million times before. Okay, maybe not a million, because that’d just be hootch-ified—but at least a couple. Which was just stupid because Heath knew better after she’d waxed and waned last night during their encounter.
Squaring her shoulders, she decided she’d just figure it out as she went along.
Her nervous fingers gave a final fluff to her hair before she made her way into the kitchen to find Heath dropping a brown paper bag on her counter. He had on a pair of jeans and a button-down, dark blue fitted shirt. It enhanced every good attribute he had and then some, and it left her surprised to see him in something other than his suit.
“Hey,” she called softly without looking up, going to the fridge to offer him something to drink. “Do you want something to drink? I have Pepsi and water and milk. I’m sorry I don’t have any alcohol. I’m not much of a drinker.”
Heath slid up behind her, snaking an arm out to pull her to his chest. She fought the sigh she wanted to shudder at the contact between them. The warmth of him made her want to curl into his solid frame and stay there. Instead, she stiffened, but he turned her in his arms and smiled that smile that every dentist in the land would be proud to claim ownership of. “I don’t want anything to drink. I want a kiss.You know, that crazy thing people who did what we did last night do when they’ve been apart for a few hours?” Heath didn’t wait for an answer, he swooped down, claiming her lips, leaving Wanda unable to protest—and unwilling, too.
He parted her mouth, slipping his tongue in to stroke hers. That same rush of heat—the one that made her nether parts hotter than lava, began working its way up the length of her body.
Heath molded her to him, cupping her ass to bring her hips as close to his as he could. She wrapped her arms around his waist without thinking, the demand of his hot mouth making her forget everything but him naked—inside her, above her.
Their breathing grew harsh when Heath tore his mouth from hers. He took her hand, planting it on the rigid line of his cock. “You feel that?”
“I do,” she rasped.
“I bought a big box of condoms. I say we make use of them and this.” He ran her hand along his shaft again.
Condoms . . . she hadn’t given that much thought—even after last night. She and George hadn’t been able to conceive, and her disease wasn’t of the STD variety. But he was protecting himself—them—and that was sensible. “But dinner . . .”
“It was just hot dogs.”
“You said you could cook,” she playfully accused.
“I can. They were chili dogs.”
“Ahhhh—well, then, the chili part makes you a real chef.”
Heath hauled her closer, unbuttoning her top with skilled fingers. “Hey, I have chips, too. With ridges.”
She giggled. “Sweet. I like ridges.”
“I like you,” were the last words he rumbled before he grabbed the brown paper bag, then took her hand and led her to her bedroom.
Just like the night before, her legs were weak, her pulse racing in fiery threads of need. It took but seconds for Heath to have the backs of her knees pressed to the edge of the bed and her longing to have him burning like a brush fire. He threw the bag on the bed, then captured her mouth once more.
His lips absorbed hers, demanding she return his urgent request. Clothes flew, buttons popped, and then they were flesh upon flesh, thighs pressing together, chests hard pressed. “Don’t move,” he ordered, splaying his hand over her ass until they were connected by every inch of their skin. “You feel goddamned good, Wanda Schwartz. I figured I’d better say that before I ravish you.”
A thrill of anticipation skittered from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. Her shiver made her nipples harden, boring into Heath’s chest. But Heath didn’t move, he took her hands from around his neck, placing them around his waist.
They began an easy sway, melting into one another with a gentle rocking motion. As though music played that no one could hear but them. Heath’s hands skimmed her skin, now on fire from his mere touch. He roamed the planes of her body, the slope of her hip, the curve of her spine.
And Wanda returned the favor, trailing small paths over the rung of each of his abdomen muscles, molding her fingers into the firm skin of his back, burying her head in the broad shelter of his chest.
Heath bent her back over his forearm, leaning her into the bed, covering her body with his before pulling her to lie on her side, her thigh straddling his leg, the rough hairs tickling her freshly shaven legs. His large hands cupped her breasts, and she found herself arching into them, placing her palms flat on his chest to push against the calloused surface.
Heath’s lips were at her neck, teasing the flesh, running his teeth with light nips over her skin, moving down to her breasts, hissing an intake of breath when his tongue found her nipple.
Her sigh came out in a raspy, ragged breath of completion, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. Heath hiked her leg higher over his thigh, pushing her upward, letting his hand stroke her spine, caress each vertebrae. He let his fingers slide down along one cheek of her ass, then slip behind her and between the folds of her sex.
He parted the swollen flesh with care, using two fingers to spread her wide. Her whimper was audible, a soft cry for more when he dragged a digit over her clit, thumbing the nub until it swelled beneath his touch. His leisurely, seductive exploration had her hips gyrating, rising up to meet each stroke of his finger.
The blistering sizzle from the night before returned, upped a notch by the fact that she knew only hot release awaited her. Wanda found her hand had a mind of its own. She cupped the top of Heath’s hand, covering his knuckles, lifting her breasts so he could lavish more attention on them as he stroked her sex.
Slick with moisture, the light glide of his hands grew more insistent, demanding she find her pleasure. Her hand on his, showing him the spot she found pleased her the most, was almost too erotic, too bold for someone who’d known so little about finding her own erogenous zones. Yet he didn’t brush her aside, he encouraged her with wicked words, husky and deep. “Show me what you like, Wanda.” The words he spoke against her breast clung to her ears—hot and sinful.
Her muscles clenched almost painfully, she positioned his hand, following his lead as he caressed her, until the scintillating fingers of orgasm overwhelmed her in sweet rushes of blessed release.
Her breathing was choppy, her hands shaky while they clung to his shoulders, letting the shudders wrack her body. Heath’s breath was hot at her breasts, fanning them, patiently waiting for her breathing to even out.
Wanda pulled him up to lie beside her again. Heath dragged her length close to him, his cock between them, resting on her belly, rigid, hard, heated. She smoothed her hands down over his chest, grasping his shaft to the tune of his satisfied hiss.
She slid along his body, luxuriating in his smooth skin, flush to her own, stopping at his thigh, letting her lips move over the thick muscles until her mouth rested near his cock.The dim light in her room allowed her her first real glimpse of it, thick, lightly veined, and pulsing when she took him in her hand.
Wanda hoped her nervousness didn’t show, skilled at this she definitely wasn’t, but Heath gave without reserve, and she wanted to do the same. She let her mouth come to rest along the length of his shaft, his groan above her making her stomach muscles clench. She ran her tongue with
a tentative swipe over his cock, lashing out, then slithering it over the tight skin.
Heath’s hands went to her hair, gripping the long strands, running his fingers through it, lifting his hips. When she enveloped him, he bucked upward, the hard planes of his stomach visibly contracting. Her heart hammered in her chest when he wrapped a thigh around her, straining against the heat of her mouth. She took slow passes, gripping his shaft with two hands, dragging her wet lips and tongue over the smooth flesh.
Heath’s breathing pumped in and out, harsh, rasping on each intake, and then he tugged at her. “Stop,Wanda. Stop now.” His demand was urgent, drawing her back up into his arms, setting her atop him with firm hands.
She planted her palms on his chest and blushed when he asked, “Do you like to be on top, Wanda?”
Her tongue became too thick to speak, and she lowered her eyes, the curtain of her hair covering her flaming cheeks. She knew what she wanted to like . . .
His powerful body sprawled beneath her left her winded, unable to voice her desires.
Heath slid up to the head of the bed, grabbing the bag of condoms, then bracing his back against her ornate, cherry headboard. She saw the tinfoil wrapper flutter to the floor out of the corner of her eye. Then he pulled her along with him, taking her face in his hands and slanting his mouth over hers to give her a kiss. “Don’t ever be embarrassed to tell me what you want,Wanda—or to show me what you want. How about you take the reins,” he said with a playful wink, spreading his thick arms wide. “Do with me what you will.”
How uncanny that he should care that she even had needs. She couldn’t recall George ever asking her what she wanted. George hadn’t been a horrible person, he just wasn’t terribly interested in much but himself.
A shuddering, nervous breath later and she’d repositioned herself on his lap. With her back facing him, her hands gripping the strong width of his thighs. Heath lifted her hips, settling her on the tip of his cock. Wanda sank down on his shaft in slow increments, smiling to herself when she heard his deep growl of pleasure. The instant he was inside her she leaned back against the warmth of his chest. The shelter she found there felt like completion. A dangerous emotion she had to set aside in favor of living in the moment.
Heath’s hands cupped her breasts, plucking her nipples to hard nubs. Heat, white-hot and prickling her skin, traveled to every intimate place on her body. Her hips had ideas of their own as they picked up the gentle rhythm Heath had begun, rolling in tune with his thrusts. The slick glide of his cock, his hands at her breasts, being in control of her own climax brought with it yet another level of intimacy she’d never experienced.
Her thighs trembled with each plunge she took, her clit swelled when he found it, rolling it between his fingers. Her womb clenched with a sharp tug, her knees ached from sitting on her haunches, but the ache was a pleasure/pain, a necessary evil to explore this newfound sexual paradise.
She knew the familiar clench of her stomach muscles, the shiver of goose bumps that slithered along her exposed skin. Wanda’s arms went up behind her to wrap around Heath’s neck, bringing his mouth to her ear, his ragged breathing a sure sign he was ready to come.
The hard jerk of his cock deeply imbedded within her slick channel, the forceful, upward thrust of his hips thrilled her. He spread the lips of her sex to stroke her, while his forearm held her tight to him, sending her toppling over into the vortex of her orgasm.
This time, there was no hiding her cry of ecstasy. It came from deep in her throat with abandon, bursting from her lips freely. Heath’s grip on her tightened, the hiss of his moan through clenched teeth, ringing in her ears.
She fell back against him, boneless, sated, breathless, fulfilled. Heath’s arms remained around her, strong and secure, and she clung to them, swallowing hard when he nuzzled her neck and teased, “I think you should be in charge more often, Ms. Schwartz. I like.”
Wanda closed her eyes, savoring this moment, savoring Heath’s embrace, the intimate whisper of pillow talk.
But that wasn’t the only kind of talk Heath seemed to want to indulge in. He lifted her from him, settling her beside him. “So about that talk.”
“What talk?” For real, she was getting almost too good for her own comfort with this playing dumb thing.
Heath dragged the comforter up over her. “You know exactly what talk I mean.”
She kept her face blank. “I told you, we don’t have to talk. We can keep this, you know—just like this.” She spread her arms wide to indicate the rumpled bed—and their nakedness in the bed. Wow. Very expressive, Wanda. Way to make yourself clear.
“And what’s this, Wanda?”
Wanda bit the inside of her cheek. It was now or never. If she didn’t tell him her intentions this second, she’d lose her nerve. May the power of Nina compel me. “It’s—it’s . . . sex.”
“Yeaahhh,” he said, then smiled. “Good, right?”
Maybe he was getting the picture, and she wouldn’t have to actually say the words. “Very. And that’s all it has to be.” Score. A whole sentence and not one sign her tongue was thick and her stomach was a mess of knots a Boy Scout couldn’t untie.
His smile never faltered while he adjusted the pillows behind his head, thwacking them with his hand. Her stark white sheets against his lightly tanned chest made a mouthwatering picture. “Oh, really?”
Wanda looked down, keeping him a vague blur in her peripheral vision, twisting the sheet between her fingers. “R-really.”
He grinned, infuriatingly. “I say bullshit.”
“Sorry?”
His smile was typically cocky. “Don’t be sorry that it’s bullshit.”
And then again, maybe he wasn’t getting the picture. So she’d paint him one with as little stroking of her brush as possible. “It’s not . . . bullshit, I mean.”
“Yeah, yeah it is—but forget that for now. I have to explain some stuff to you.”
Wanda averted her eyes to her wrinkled comforter. “No you don’t. It’s okay. I told you—”
He placed a finger to her lips. “You can tell me all about how what happens between us is just sex after I talk.”
“But—”
He pressed her lips more firmly. “Shhhh. Now I need you to really listen to me.What I’m going to tell you is probably going to leave you pretty disturbed—but I just need you to hear me out, and then you can ask as many questions as you want.”
Her stomach fell. Jesus. Christ. He was married. He was cheating on his wife. That was probably the only thing he could tell her that would disturb her. That’s what she got for taking her stupid, immoral womanly desires into her own hands. She deserved this because she was selfish. That made her officially a tart or, as Nina would say, a ho. Puuurfect. It was exactly as she wanted to be remembered when she left this world—aiding and a-bedding an infidel.
“I’m not married.”
Wanda let out a rush of air with only a little surprise he’d read her mind. “So why am I going to be disturbed?”
“Because what I’m going to tell you is going to sound crazy, but it’s who I am—who I was—and in the interest of my new lease on life, I want to be as honest as I can with the people in my new life. First, I live in a homeless shelter, and there’s a reason for that—it has nothing to do with the fact that I lost my job, or that I ran my credit cards up, or even that my home was repossessed. Second, I have no past that you can trace, and that might seem fishy to someone like you who has all these roots in the way of family pictures and memories.” He pointed to the pictures of her parents and Casey, sitting on her dresser and hanging on her walls.
But she didn’t need to know if he didn’t have roots. Not if they were just going to . . . to just . . . wait—why didn’t he have roots? Omigod—he was part of the witness protection program or something. Her mind raced with possible scenarios. He’d witnessed something horrible, something heinous, like a mob hit and now was in hiding—in a homeless shelter. What kind of people were run
ning the government these days that they’d allow a man and his elderly manservant to live in a homeless shelter?
He stopped all of her crazy notions with his next words. “It’s not whatever you’re thinking, Wanda. It’s probably not even close.”
Oh. “Okay,” she offered with a tentative drawl. “So what is it?”
“I’ve been around a long, long time.”
“Haven’t we all,” she joked, totally on shaky ground.
“That’s not what I mean. I mean that literally.”
“Yeah. Me, too. Or at least it feels that way some days.” Especially lately.
“No, I mean I’ve been around for a hundred and ninety-nine years.”
Wanda cocked her head at him in question, focusing on keeping her jaw from swinging on its hinges. But she kept silent. His age, and the absurdity of it, sounded verrryyy familiar.
No. Nuh-uh. For the love of all things winged and furry.
Heath took her hand, massaging her knuckles, obviously ignoring the fact that she’d said nothing about his lifespan. “I guess there’s no other way to do this but to just say it, and let you commence with the freaking out. Just know, when you’re done flipping, I promise not to let you sit in the fetal position in the corner, rocking for long.” His tone was light, his words not so much.
Yet Wanda didn’t speak. She was afraid to, because she had this sinking feeling . . .
“So here we go. I’m a vampire, or I was a vampire.” Heath paused, clearly waiting for the supposed oncoming freak.
Which she just didn’t have in her. But she guessed Heath probably took her ongoing silence as shock-related. And she wished she could summon up some surprise so he’d feel some measure of justification for the buildup to this big reveal. It just wasn’t happenin’. She was all tapped out on shock, dismay, incredulity. Her fear factor account was officially dry. This conversation was familiar. Like twice familiar. Like this past year’s paranormal-palooza familiar. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to boost his ego by losing it—she just couldn’t summon the will.
The Accidental Human Page 18