She felt the draw where the very tip of his penis nestled inside her slick folds. The tremble 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 cou
ple. You’ve taken pictures and asked questions and I figure you know a helluva lot more than you realize.”
“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.
“Sorry about the choke hold,” he said, noticing the path of her hand. “You broke the law once, and I wasn’t one hundred percent sure you wouldn’t add assaulting a police officer to your rap sheet.”
“I doubt I could take you.”
He didn’t look as if he believed the statement anymore than she did. As if he knew she wasn’t the mild-mannered reporter she pretended to be.
“I seriously doubt you’ll find any solid leads in my notes,” she blurted, eager to ignore the strange thought. He wasn’t a vampire, which meant he couldn’t know the truth about her.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He stashed the slip of paper with the contact information in his shirt pocket. “I’m staying just down the hall. I’ll give your editor a call first thing in the morning. You’ll be around tomorrow, right? In case I need clarification on anything?” She nodded, and he stared at her again, his gaze glowing, searching. “We’ll talk once I figure things out,” he finally said.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she called out to his retreating back.
“I already did,” he said and then he disappeared.
What was that supposed to mean?
The question haunted her as she stared at the closed door. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to find her just to get his hands on her notes.
Unless the notes were just a cover, and he wasn’t half as interested in her research as he was in her.
“I already did.”
His words echoed in her head, and his image flashed in her mind—his knowing expression, his odd gaze.
She’d noticed his eyes back in Washington when he’d escorted her off the mountain. But then she’d been ambushed by Cruz and Molly. She’d forgotten all about Keller, about the strange glow of his eyes and the fact that no matter how hard she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to read his thoughts.
She’d forgotten about everything except surviving.
The notion stirred her suspicion.
Sheriff Matt Keller had shown up just minutes before Molly and Cruz back in Washington. Had he led them to her?
Was he leading them to her now?
The question stalled in her head and sent a burst of fear through her. She threw the lock on the door and peered past the edge of the curtains.
The shadowy walkway remained empty. In the distance, she could see a light on in the lobby. Eldin sat behind the registration desk, his gaze hooked on a nearby television, his hands busy with a platter of nachos.
Relief swept through. A crazy feeling because she’d already accepted her fate. The possibility that Sheriff Keller might be speeding up her fate by leading Molly and Cruz to her shouldn’t have freaked her out.
It did.
Not because she was afraid to die, but because she was afraid to die without knowing the truth about her feelings for Garret.
The truth crystallized as she stood there in the window, her hand gripping the drape, her body still throbbing from their earlier encounter.
She wanted to right off the pounding of her heart and the trembling of her hands as fear. Because there was a very real possibility that Keller was linked to Cruz and Molly. But she knew it was more.
It was Garret.
Because she loved him?
She’d never thought so. Sure, she’d pretended that what she’d felt had been the real thing back then, but she’d never known. How could she? Her parents’ relationship had been one of fear and dominance. There’d been no kind words, no soft feelings. She’d never seen love firsthand, and she’d never, ever felt it. While her mother had, indeed, cared for her, she’d been too busy worrying over her own survival to have anything left over for her daughter. And her father…He’d shown her only cruelty and hatred. Likewise, her existence had been a string of meaningless encounters, all fueled by hunger.
And so she’d written off the tingling in her stomach, the trembling in her knees and the strange warmth in her chest as pure, uncomplicated lust.
Physical rather than emotional.
She’d convinced herself that the only reason she’d reacted to him so intensely way back when was because he’d taken the lead and swept her off her feet. He’d treated her like a woman and so she’d reacted like one.
But if she gave in to the hungry beast inside of her and swept him off his feet, she wouldn’t come anywhere close to having an orgasm.
Right?
Maybe.
Probably.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder as she stepped into the shower, if maybe there was more to it.
If he was more.
Maybe she reacted to him not because he was the only man who’d ever taken the lead, but because he was the only man, period.
Her one true love.
It shouldn’t have mattered. Regardless, it wouldn’t change her fate. If anything, it would make her all the more determined to set things right. She knew that, but she still couldn’t close her eyes and push him out of her head when she finally toweled off and crawled into bed.
Instead, she tossed and turned and ended up staring at the ceiling.
She’d spent far too long—almost two centuries to be exact—wondering what it would feel like to love and be loved. While she had no illusions that Garret felt anything that strong for her-—he’d been far too controlled tonight—she knew there was a real possibility that she loved him.
She climbed from the bed and reached for her clothes. While she had no clue if what she felt even came close to the real thing, she wasn’t going to pass up the chance to find out.
To feel it. To really and truly feel it.
If only for a little while.
18
“THE MAN’S REAL NAME is John Darrington. It’s probably an alias like the other, but there’s no way to know for sure without checking further. His last known address
is in Chicago,” Dalton MacGregor’s voice carried over the cell phone the minute Garret picked up. “I’m e-mailing it to you right now, along with my notes.”
Garret paused, pitch fork in one hand, his cell phone clenched tight in the other. “You’re sure it’s him?”
“Based on the information that you gave me, this is the man you’re looking for. He had actual contact with the blogger who gave the description of him. Based on everyone I’ve talked to, it’s him, right down to the medallion that you described.”
Garret could still feel the cold metal dangling over him, brushing his skin as the figure loomed over him.
“Do you want me to fly to Chicago and check it out myself?”
“You’ve done enough. I’ll take it from here. Send me everything, and I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” Garret hung up and dialed Jake.
“We’ve got him,” he told his friend.
“Really?” Excitement fueled the one word. “You’re not shitting me, are you?”
“I’m flying out at sundown tomorrow to check it out. Twenty-four hours from now, you just might be getting ready to watch the sun rise.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No. You stay with Nikki and the others. This is something I need to do by myself.”
Garret needed to face his past, to finally see the man’s face. He wanted the bits and pieces of what he remembered to finally fit together in a clear, solid picture.
And then he wanted to shatter that picture and destroy the man who’d destroyed him.
He did.
So why didn’t he feel even a fifth the excitement he’d heard in Jake’s voice?
Because killing the Ancient One wouldn’t solve Garret’s problem.
It wouldn’t make Viv love him the way he loved her.
Wait a second. Love? She couldn’t love him any more than he could love her.
Hell, he didn’t love her.
Tonight had proved as much. He’d held tight to his control and resisted the urge to climax.
Barely.
The realization followed him around the barn as he pitched hay for the three mares he had stabled inside. They were about to foal and he wanted them comfortable.
Love at First Bite Bundle Page 51
