“Wh-what are you saying? How could you know what makes me happy?”
She was trying to shirk away from him and his only thought was how could he tame her if she was already meek? He knew no other way with her this first time. God, she smelled good and felt even better in his arms. When she settled, still refusing to look at him, he whispered, “Shall I tell you, mia lei, what makes you happy?”
Her brows furrowed and she muttered almost to herself, “You can’t know that.”
“I’m base, vile and selfish at times and you love it.”
“No.”
“Even now you shiver with want.”
“Let me go.” She pushed against him and grunted when he didn’t budge, “I don’t want this—this Neanderthal attempt you’re making at trying to dominate me.”
“Trying?” He was glad she still had her sense of humor. “I know you don’t want it, as there’s a vast difference between wanting to be dominated and needing to be. You,” he leaned down and spoke softly against her ear, “need to be dominated in the most basic way imaginable. Because wanting to be is merely child’s play to a woman like you.”
“I’m not going to listen to this.”
“You can turn your head, but you can’t hide from the truth. Your body won’t let you. That ache you have between your legs is a longing for me to be inside you. The tingling in your breasts is the desire for me to suck on them. Bite them. Worship them as brutally as your darkest fantasies have invoked. From this moment on I own you, body and soul. I control your pleasure. I will give it or take it away as I see fit. I—”
“Enough,” she cried. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re doing this, but it’s mean. Is this what you meant about being vile? I know one thing. That’s the last time I go to a supposed ‘friend’s’ therapist and pour my heart out over my pathetic sex life being crippled by disgusting fantasies. Is this why I was invited here by the all-boys club? So I could be humiliated? How did they find out? Who told you about me?”
Finally she looked him in the eyes and it was bad. Disastrous. Dangerous for both of them because he could no sooner control his urge to claim, than she could control her desire to want to be claimed. God help them. “No one. I know your every fantasy. I helped to create them.”
“Impossible.”
“Only if you make it so.”
Finley was lost. Found. Scattered and collected all at once. This was the first time her body reacted to another. It was as if he’d flipped a switch and she was shining brightly. Burning steadily. Glowing just being near him. The contrast was so stark given how she normally was around guys that she couldn’t help thinking about those lackluster moments. All the pretending she had to do. All the insults she had to endure when she was found out. All the times—she closed her eyes against the embarrassment—she’d never pleased or was pleased in return.
He pulled her in close and she let him. It was better with her cheek pressed against his chest, than being held hostage by those eyes. He was looking for an answer she didn’t want to give.
“I’m sorry for all the tears you have shed. All the loneliness you’ve had to bear. I’m here, and now that you are home you’ll never have to pretend again.”
She wanted so badly to sink into the comfort of those words. To forget what was real and embrace the unimaginable in front of her. Did she dare?
He rubbed his jaw across the top of her head. The unhurried and intimate action made her feel so safe. So protected until he murmured, “You know who I am.”
Her eyes opened and she stared at the flames licking the walls of the fireplace. Was she losing her mind? She’d heard that statement before. It came to her a hundred different times in her dreams. From the man in the mist. The—she leaned back and shot a look up. “You’re the ghost in my bed.”
When he smiled she knew she was so far out of her element it wasn’t funny. She had no thought to describe how she was feeling. Or what she wanted. Only what she craved in the worst way imaginable.
Him.
She tried to stay calm and focused, ignoring the buzzing in her ears and the lightheaded sensation that invaded. She wanted to pull herself together and tell him how unsettling this was, but she couldn’t. Was that her panting?
He let her go and everything moved in slow motion. His hair, when he stood straight and shook his head, fell in consecutive ripples as the strands landed in a gentle teeter back and forth against his temples. His eyes, when he blinked, stayed closed long enough for her to see how dark and thick his lashes were as they rested against his cheeks. He swallowed and his Adam’s apple dipped low before it came back up. Was he nervous too? Suddenly all her thoughts were of him. His mood. His needs. His desires.
Her gaze lifted to his face so she could read his expression, but just then his lids snapped opened and all the heady languor from before was gone. In its place was a reality almost too harsh for her to bear as his eyes drilled into her. Penetrating deep, stripping her right down through to her soul.
“What’s happening here?”
She wasn’t sure she’d said this out loud. The buzzing was back in her ears, silencing all other sounds. Everything but his voice when he said, “There’s no shame in your fantasies. No guilt attached to our sex life. Baring your darkest desires with me is a celebration. A time filled with pride and joy. I cherish your surrender because it allows me to give you pleasure in every possible way.”
Her surrender? She recalled what he’d said about her fantasies. What did he know about her fantasies? She forced herself to concentrate. To stay strong. “I need to go.”
“You are here to stay. Trust me. I’ll do things to you that will make you forget about leaving me.”
He was right. He wasn’t even touching her and all she wanted to do was climb under his skin. Lick. Bite and suck on him. Clearly if the guy’s end game was getting her to stay he certainly knew what he was doing. Even from afar.
Stay? You’re not going to stay with him. Snap out of it, Fin.
She opened her mouth ready to volley each and every reason why she needed to go when she heard an ear-splitting sound. It was half roar, half whine that ended in a series of ticky-knocking noise like those aliens in Signs. Which mattered not at all to her as whatever it was, scared the ever living crap out of her. She stiffened, “Did you hear that?”
He jerked to attention and T’d his massive shoulders. “No.”
That reply was awfully quick. It was adamant too. Emphatic even. Especially when she hadn’t even qualified what he was supposed to have heard. And when he remained quiet, but swallowed, she couldn’t help it. Her journalist skills came to the forefront. The man was nervous and unfortunately for him, nervous she understood. He was hiding something. That decided, she’d give him just enough rope to do the proverbial hang with. A deep breath later she got ready to gauge his body language and tossed the noose. “It sounded like a door slam.”
“Door?” He sighed. He had been holding his breath. “I didn’t hear a door.”
And there it was. His relief that was going to be short lived when she demanded, “But you did hear that freak of nature outside howling. I know you did. What was that?”
She should have known a guy like him wouldn’t stay on the defensive too long. He gave her a crooked grin that made butterflies take to flight in her stomach, and then he shrugged. “It could be anything. A man-eating Timber wolf. Bigfoot. The abominable snowman? Who’s to say? So it’s best you stay here while we—”
“We what?” The fire sizzled and yet the air between them was cold. She didn’t know why, but she wanted it warm again. So when he remained watchful she blurted, “Have sex?”
Nothing. Not a word, he just stared at her.
“What?”
More nothing. That came with a whole lot of something. She was warm again. Real warm. His look was stroking her. Taming her. Taunting her to want to do things. At least she was imagining do all kinds of things with him. She tried to stay focused. Strong. Maybe he wa
s trying to use mindfuckery on her. One of her ex’s had attempted this with disastrous results.
“Is this…this some kind of kinky….kink intervention?” She felt breathless and weak all of a sudden. “An attempt to dominate—”
“Dominari est tueri.”
She fought off the lightheadedness. Determined to stay focused. “Domi—excuse me?” She was at a complete loss. Really wishing he’d stick with French. “How many languages do you speak?”
“Fourteen. That was Latin for, ‘To dominate is to protect’. I am your protector. Your life-mate. Your—”
“Fourteen?” She swayed. Staggered, not by his linguistic acumen, but by the hot and thrilling lust that raced through every one of her nerve endings at once. The erotic sensation nearly overwhelmed her. “I…I don’t need a protector.”
“Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are.”
The buzzing stopped. The hiss and pops of the crackling fire sounded loud and she frowned. How did he know her favorite quote? Her motto, really, to live by. Almost afraid to acknowledge she whispered, “Machiavelli.”
He nodded. “Yes, but in our case there are no few, only one. Me. I experience who you really are when you’ve reached the farthest edge of your limits. When you’re soaked with sweat and slick with desire. Gasping. Exhausted, but completely willing to do more for me, should I ask.”
“No,” she breathed, truly scared now because those words touched a place in her heart that ached to be accepted. Cherished and loved the way he was describing. This wasn’t real. “You aren’t real. I made you up like a character in a book.”
He gave her that lopsided grin again and she almost crumbled when he said, “We are all stories.”
“N-not me. I’m—”
“Especially you. You’re fierce. Unique. Clever, compassionate and imaginative. You are all these things because you are mine.”
She would have called him a liar. A fake. A fraud of some kind, if she hadn’t spied the intense pride shining in his eyes. Seeing it, she was hopelessly lost as she knew, at least in this moment in time, she wanted to be all those things for him. Right or wrong. Good or bad. He was correct about one thing. She was unique, as she doubted there was another woman on the planet crazy enough to consider falling in with whatever he had planned.
She licked her lips, ready to admit defeat when Jesus, God, he took a step toward her and heat flared inside her. The buzzing was back and each and every molecule in her body thrummed to life with an acute need…of him.
Jack intended to go to her. To pull her into his arms and never let her go, but then he spotted the streak of saliva glistening on her lower lip and the sight nearly undid him. He stopped, leaving a few feet of distance between them and growled, “Take off your clothes.”
She’d do it, he knew, and when she began, it did mad things to his peace of mind. Painstakingly slow, she moved as she unfastened her sweater. Each button sprang to life in a tantalizing bob as she went down the line. And when she got to the last one and parted the knit, his heart rate sped. His pulse rapidly beat watching her shift one shoulder forward and then the other until the angora slipped down her arms. Past her elbows, wrists and hands, where it landed at her heels like an old fashioned piece of Christmas ribbon candy.
Snap
That sound drew his attention. It was the clasp of her bra coming undone. His gaze stroked her from pant-hem to waist, hesitating at the flat brass button there before a scrap of cream-colored lace fluttered to the floor behind her. Now he had to look up and what he saw made his jaw tighten. Flawless skin and perfectly rounded breasts with delicate nipples that gleamed like ripened apricots in the firelight. And when she slid a palm over the hardened center, then dragged her hand across her stomach, downward to the brass, his eyes narrowed. Focusing in, even as breathing became an afterthought.
“The pants,” that was all he said while he remained entranced. Waiting. And when she undid that button, took down the zipper and spread those sides wide until her hipbones were exposed, he closed his eyes. Only for a second, but it was long enough to gain the reins on his rapidly firing adrenaline. “Mia lei,” he whispered and opened his eyes.
In the span of a blink he took in the sight of her. She was completely bare as she stepped out of the denim and lace that pooled at her feet. His gaze travelled upward. Touching on her knees and taut thighs. Zeroing in on the spot between her legs, he nearly groaned when he saw the fine line of hair. Tawny herringbone silk that extended dead center from her slit upward a good two inches. It was the perfect guide to all he wanted to taste, explore, claim and own.
Without a word, he went to her. He pulled her into his arms and searched her face. She was breathtaking. Clear skin, sex-drugged eyes, plump lips and that erotic little beauty mark that found its way to hover just over the right side of her mouth in every damn lifetime. Oh yeah, he would have lost it if he didn’t believe that choices define the man. To that end, he silently acknowledged, satisfying the flesh takes but a moment. Whereas a gentle touch to the soul could last a lifetime.
“I’m glad you’re home.” He curled down and brushed his stubble-roughened cheek against her silky one. “Let me make your wildest dreams come true.”
Her head fell back and the words sounded as if they were ripped out of her, “You are my ghost. You have to be.”
He tightened his grip on her. “I promise. I’ll be anything you want me to be, but you have to promise me too. Promise me you’ll stay strong. Remember, I’m always here for you.”
“Y—you are?” She closed her eyes and frowned. “Why?”
Damn, he wished he could see the cobalt fire ignited in her gaze. It had been years since he’d been challenged. No one except her had ever dared to poke the beast within him. A brute that had sorely missed the one woman who was everything to him. “I’m going to entice you to do the things you never thought possible. You will crave, mia lei, everything I do to you, but more importantly, all that I don’t you will want.”
He pressed his lips to her cheekbone and then against each eyelid. He’d been right before. She tasted like sun-drenched flowers washed in cleansing rain.
“I—I can’t breathe.”
His chin dug into the hair at her temple as he rubbed and purred, “I’m here for you. I know it feels like the end, but it’s only the beginning.” He touched his forehead to hers and whispered, “Here. Always. Together we are one. I stand stalwart by your side. Unshakable.” He crushed her against him. “Trust Me.”
She shook her head and her eyes fluttered opened as she cried, “I’m…I’m choking. I’m going to die.”
“Never. Unless it’s in my arms from pleasure, I swear.” He leaned down and engulfed her. “God, now that I’ve found you, I will always be closer than the breath within you. Relax. Breathe deeply. Breathe with me. I’m here.”
She gasped. Panted, almost hyperventilating, and he knew he needed to do something.
“Fi—Finley.” He hated stumbling over this, but as usual, her unfamiliar name didn’t roll easily off his tongue. Especially when he ached so much to call her by the one name that did. “Trust me.”
“But…”
He pressed his lips to her furrowed brow. “I am the whisper of wind you feel upon you.”
She shivered.
“I’m the wicked tingle that vibrates beneath your skin.”
She moaned.
“I am your defender as you shed your pride and embrace your darkest desires for me. I am the shadow of dusk and the break of dawn as we face each new day together.”
“Day?”
“And night, mia lei, but those belong to me. Right now you are mine.”
He bent and swept her up in his arms. Holding her tight even as he tried to calm the white-hot lust that roiled through him. Mere words could only get him so far with her. Now it was time to take action and although he was loath to use the ties of their connection against her, he knew he had no choice. Too much. Too many depended
on this night unfolding with her being claimed by him in the most basic way possible.
And right now only one thought screamed through him, as he carried her from the room.
Please let her love me in the breaking light of dawn, or failing that, may she forgive me…
*****
Jesse waited until Gilby hall was quiet before he retrieved the hidden piece of paper in his bag and spread it under the bedroom lamp to work out logistics. The vault room—he snorted—who has a vault room besides a bank? Fucking billionaire blood suckers that’s who.
He squinted while he worked out the shortest route to it from the guestroom he’d been given. Once he had it virtually mapped he made note of possible exits if he needed to abort. He hoped that didn’t happen as his mysterious source would be waiting for him and judging from what little contact he’d had with that guy, he didn’t seem to be a patient man.
He’s going to give you the real story though.
Jesse thought about that and then his colleagues. Respectable journalists, every one of them, all atwitter at the prospect of interviewing Midland. If only they knew the truth.
Soon everyone would know the truth, thanks to him.
He went down the list of things he had to accomplish before he stole the requested item to barter for his story when he met up with his source. Arriving at the end, he added, confiscating an additional ski jacket. He had no idea how Cullen fit into all of this or why his source had been adamant about her making an appearance, but he’d agreed to it just the same.
He was just about to fold up the floor plan when he spotted one room—he bent to examine—no one outer building on the west side of Gilby. He pushed that part of the paper closer to the light. At first glance he thought it was a detached garage, but then he read the word, Crypta, and he stood so fast his head caught against the lampshade, nearly knocking it over. A crypt? “Jesus Christ.” He righted the lamp and then made the sign of the cross, praying his source hadn’t been wrong when he’d said these vampire’s weren’t anything like what society believed vampires to be. But then, if they didn’t vaporize in sunlight or sleep in coffins what the fuck did they need a crypt for? They didn’t die.
Love Of A Lifetime Page 3
