by Jackie Ivie
“And yet here you are. With me.”
She had most of her arm around the back of his neck, pulling him as she rose to tiptoes. The move put her woman body fully against him. Fireworks exploded through him, sending urgency rioting through him, until the sensation meshed with the blur encasing them.
“I’m going to kiss you, Rafe.”
He nodded. She used that nickname. He didn’t care.
“I may not be able to stop there.”
“Fair enough.”
“Everything on me feels…so wild. Uninhibited. Like I can fly if I just put out my arms. What did you do to me?”
“I…am not certain I can explain…just yet.”
“But you can do it again?”
“Oh…si. Most definitely.”
“You’ll take away more of the ugliness? Please?”
“Ug…liness?”
The word was split. He was surprised it made sound. His mind was locked on one thing – control. And it was losing. It was more her fault now. The way she hovered right at his lip flesh cursed him with the breath of each word, while the touch of her sent urges and needs everywhere in waves of angry sensation. To his toes. Fingertips. Groin.
Rafaele pulled his head up, hitting it on the wall as he took in her semi-closed eyes, parted lips, the lift of a vein in her throat as it pulsed with each heartbeat. She didn’t know what she played with, and he had nothing left to fight it. The tremors that ran him evidenced it.
“Erase him.”
She spat the words before lunging upward, pressing her lips to Rafaele’s, sucking at him as he was her. His fangs opened a cut within her lower lip, releasing fluid. She no longer tasted of sweet and tangy, as she had last night. She tasted now of love and perfection, musk and sandalwood, rain and sleet, flowers and vines. Every vestige of control revolted, lifting them from the floor with it. Her legs climbed him, encasing his hips, while her arms gripped his shoulders. Her every breath carried life, and he took them, giving passion in exchange. The room was no longer moving separately. It became an entity that enveloped them, moving them along with a blur of movement that seemed to pulse with energy. Rage. Urge. Need.
Rafaele dropped, spun, and had her hiked against the wall, her limbs jolting with the move before resealing about him. But he wanted more. He needed all of her. Around him. Encasing and enwrapping, and engorging. Her mouth moved from his, sliding across his cheek to the ticklish area below his ear. He returned the favor, roving his tongue about the delicate skin of her upper throat; the nape of her neck; her shoulder; and then spiking into her flesh to drink. He didn’t do it on purpose. He was beyond thought. Beyond stopping. Beyond anything other than experiencing.
“I want you, Rafe.”
He grunted.
“I need you. All of you. I’ve never felt…so! And I don’t know why. Ah!”
She finished her words with a cry sounding of frustration, urgency, and passion. He knew why. Tasting vampire tainted blood was known to make the blood boil with passion. And she’d had a large transfusion of it. If he still possessed the faculty of speech, he’d tell her.
Rafaele shoved his pants off his hips, and she immediately tightened her legs about him, seizing him between her clothed thighs, riding him. Teasing him. Driving him right to the brink. He was panting. Denied. Angered. Frenzied. His hands circled her waistband for the fastener ties of her pants. Buttons. A zipper. Anything!
“They pull down.” She whispered it, and then started another blizzard of reaction by the touch of her tongue to his ear.
He gripped a section at the back with both hands and split the seam open.
“Or rip,” she responded, and then giggled.
Rafaele reached behind her, grabbed two handfuls of ass, lifting her to the perfect angle, and rammed home. Any giggling instantly changed, becoming a garbled cry containing pleasure and something more. Something beautiful enough to create tears. He knew that, too. He suffered them.
Nothing had ever felt like this! Nothing. Ever. Rafaele stayed rigid for an unknown amount of time, blinking rapidly against emotion that blurred his vision, while absorbing their fusion, his rod encased in the tightest of tunnels, being alternately stroked and suctioned, and then released, creating thrill beyond measure. Sensation beyond belief. He vibrated to it, taking her along with it.
Rafaele wasn’t in charge anymore, something more elemental and visceral was. Something without boundaries and bereft of common sense. He gripped tighter about her, holding her in place for each push, each shove, each thrust and resultant withdrawal. Heaven. Nirvana. Paradise.
He moved, and something fell. He stepped backward, running into something with his thigh and a tanning bed hit the floor with a huge thud. He stumbled and the top of it cracked off. Cool, slick, hard polycarbonate met his back while the vixen affixed to him used her new position, and he let her. Rafaele’s hands moved, sliding from her hips to her waist, beneath the band of spandex she wore as a top to shove it up and off her, rolling it into a snake of material before flinging it aside. His mate was even perfect here. Not too large. Pert. Palm-sized. And incredibly inviting. He groaned before lifting to her, tonguing and then toying with her nipples, reaping cries of satiation and wonder.
And always there was motion; his hips pumping into her, before slapping back onto the unforgiving surface beneath them, her hands roaming all about him, putting minute scratches into flesh with her nails, her legs flexing to hold onto him. Pressure built. Exquisite, personal, beautiful pressure. Kneading its way into his lower back, traveling along his spine, leaching into his loins with every perfect thrust as they got large. Heavier. Wilder. Thicker. Stronger. Harder. Adding to the increase of motion, the sensation of heat, the cacophony of sighs and moans she gave that accompanied his grunts.
And then it hit him, the sensation hammering through his frame, sending such a combination of agony and bliss, he shuddered with it. His body arched, slamming his head into the structure to send the deepest, throbbing groan out into the room. Something else crashed to the floor. His throat tore, and still he sent the low vibrations through it, expressing wonderment, beauty, and fulfillment the only way he could. The combination filled him. Owned him. Encased him. Running in rivulets through him as he shook in place and accepted it. All the empty lonely years disappeared as if they’d never been. The only thing that mattered was her. Lenna. His mate.
His groan ended, dying into throbs of sound that matched how he lowered back to the now-warm surface beneath him. Lenna was collapsed onto him, her head just beneath his chin, her body trembling and twitching, rising and falling with each labored breath, while specters of her scent filled his nostrils, already haunting him. No wonder Akron spoke as he had. Rafaele would be jealous as well. This perfect cohesion was amazing. Stupendous. Better than joy. More astounding than beauty.
He may have lived, but he’d never been truly alive. Until now. With her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Oh…wow.”
“Wow?”
The word echoed through her ear. He had the most heavenly voice. He should be on radio. No. With looks like he’d been blessed with, he should be on a movie screen. And she’d be lucky to have the price of admission after this.
“I’m going to lose my license.” It didn’t even sound bad, due to the view, and probably more to the solid sensations of lassitude and satiation that still seeped through every limb.
“You are? Why?”
“A professional trainer does not have intercourse with her clients, Rafe.”
“What is this Rafe bit? It’s Rafaele.”
“You don’t like Rafe?”
“I have changed my mind. I can get used to it coming from your lips. But only yours. As for this license thing…surely what happens between two consenting adults is between them?”
“I attacked you, Rafe.”
“I beg to differ. My pants are not the clothing item that is ripped. And please. I am too large for such a statement. Fit. Agile. Strong. Unless y
ou are trying to cast doubt on my manhood?”
“That would be the day.”
His chest puffed up somehow, lifting her. Oh, brother. She’d forgotten the narcissistic part of him. But who was she to argue? It was well-earned.
“You see? Definitely consensual. You needn’t fear reprisals from me. My lips are sealed. I vow it.”
“Doesn’t look like it’ll need your word, Rafe.”
“Really? Then…whose?”
It took her a few moments to answer. Not because she didn’t have words, but because they jarred with everything. She was in heaven, or something close to it. It didn’t matter what price she paid. It was worth the sensation of hard body beneath her, the feel of his hand trailing along her back, and the echo of his deep bass voice every time he said anything. She was right. Heaven.
“Well?”
“The fitness business has some unfortunate connotations attached to it. Just like masseuses. Romance writing. Some people tend to think they’re skin industries, selling nothing more than sex.”
“I fail to see the problem.”
“My clothing was ripped off, and just look at this room. We destroyed it.”
He craned his neck up, lifting her from a berth atop him with the motion. She watched as he looked out at the mess. Even the tanning bed they were in was cracked at the top. It widened as he smacked his head back down on it. And then he closed his eyes, dusting his cheeks with dark lashes. Wow. Again. He was such a beautiful man! It was almost worth the loss of her career. He opened his eyes, caught her gaze, and then winked.
“Looks like I shall need the 4-D Team after all. And I was doing so well.”
“4-D Team?”
“I believe Team Yellow was assigned to me tonight. I hope it isn’t Red. I know them too well.”
“What are you talking about?”
“4-D. Deploy. Destroy. Disinfect. Disappear.”
“Destroy? Did I hear destroy in there?”
“They’re very quick. Efficient. User-friendly. If you’ll just let me up, I’ll get my cell phone, and…what?”
He’d moved; rolling her to one side before crawling from her and then stopped with the question, one leg on the floor, the other curled beneath him. And he had to ask about the look on her face? She’d never seen anything to compare him to. Not even a really sexy ad campaign.
“You need to uh…dress.”
“Okay.”
He found and slid his shorts back on, tying them low enough to give everyone a pretty good view of perfect male. Then he rifled his pockets, pulling a credit-card sized thing out, slid his thumb along it, opening a wafer-thin panel, moving sigh-worthy muscle as he did so. Wow. She was right. Rafaele was incomparable. She wasn’t allowing him to take one ounce off his frame. There wasn’t a bodybuilding title in his size range that was safe. All of which was probably easy to read on her face.
He cocked an eyebrow at her before turning sideways, giving her another perfect view, this time of his profile while he spoke some gibberish she couldn’t follow unless she’d taken Spanish rather than French in Junior High. Actually, as fast as he spoke, she doubted schoolroom lessons would help, anyway.
He flicked the phone closed and launched it into a little trash receptacle in one corner. And after making it, he actually put both hands up in the air, miming a version of scoring. Oh brother again. And if he wasn’t the most striking thing on the planet, and arrayed in nothing but gym shorts, she’d have been able to look at him with something beside awe.
“What now?”
“You just…threw your phone away.”
“One use only. Company policy. No. You are right. I’ll retrieve it. It might not be destroyed.”
“I can’t even afford to replace mine, and you’re chucking them?”
“Oh yes. Your phone. That reminds me. Here. Put on my shirt.” He tossed it at her.
“No way. You probably sweat in it.”
“Me? Sweat? Impossible.”
He was right. He hadn’t done anything to raise a sweat. Not while wearing clothing, anyway.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Lenna had the shirt held to her while he cracked the door open, craning his neck, and moving back muscle, giving her another perfect view before looking back at her.
“My locker.”
“Oh no. You can’t.”
“I’ll be quick. A flash of time.”
“Not shirtless.”
“I am shirtless often. It is no big thing.”
“I can see that.”
“You can?”
“You have a tan line…which is strange, considering you’re terrified of sunlight.”
“I am terrified of nothing! I am Rafaele de Jesus y Santiago. Scourge of the Barbary Coast! Pillager and Plunderer—oh. You jest.”
“Barbary Coast?” she asked.
“Can we speak of this later? We don’t have much time. 4-D teams are known for speed once called.”
“Are you part of some covert operation or something?”
“Something like that, si.”
“Take your shirt, Rafaele. Please?”
“A 4-D team will be here momentarily, and you wish to be naked? Oh, no. That is not happening, my love.”
My love?
Her heart constricted at hearing it. From the most stunning man she’d ever seen? The man who’d turned her entire world upside down? In one day? And it was said with such a low tone, it seemed to hang in the air. She couldn’t find words to answer him.
“You are mine, Lenna. Mine. No one is ever to see you as you are now.”
“You go too fast, Rafaele. I—.”
“Lenna, please. If you look at me that way, I cannot think. I wish only to return to your arms! I have waited so long. Centuries of time! You do not understand! And I waste time. I must go.”
She gulped. Wow. The view was spectacular and the words he said were running a close second. She put up a hand.
“Now what?” he asked.
“You’ll…get mobbed.”
“Nonsense.”
He slid out the door before she could argue. Lenna sighed and scooted to the end of the booth, making it teeter with the movement of weight. They’d more than destroyed the room. There was even a chunk of tile missing from where the tanning beds had been secured to the floor. She’d retrieved her spare clothing, shoved them on, and was just finished when the door burst open. A bag came flying in, Rafaele right behind it. He slammed the door shut behind him, and then locked it. And then he was backing from it as if it might chase him, too.
“Trouble?” Lenna asked. It was hard not to giggle.
“Those women. They—!” His words cut off.
“You get mobbed, did you?”
“They do not take no for an answer. They blocked me. And they wished pictures of me. With me. Poses! They wanted me to pose with them. Or for them. You would not believe what they asked of me!”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have stopped to talk to them.”
“I couldn’t just fly off. They’d see.”
“Aren’t you doing this rather brown?” Lenna shoved her sports bra and the destroyed pants into her bag, retrieved a comb, and worked at tangles without regard to pulling. She was angry with herself. She’d forgotten how dense he’d acted back before she’d attacked and then ravished him. Since then, she’d thought they’d gone past resorting to faked stupidity. It was a shame to think he’d still try it.
“Brown?”
“Come on, Rafe. Any guy who looks like you causes a stir. Women probably come out of the woodwork when you’re around. This can’t be abnormal. They probably need security for you to go anywhere in public.”
“I am never in public.”
“Right. And this never happens.”
“It doesn’t. Oh. Except for…uh. I see what you mean. I have been out before. It has been a problem.”
“How much time do I have?”
“Before what?”
“Your new fan c
lub gets here. You know they’re chasing you. And they’re going to find you with me…and then they’ll get really angry. I’ll be lucky if I’m not escorted off the premises.”
“What? Why?”
“Still doing the innocent bit? Okay then. I’ll spell it out. You’re young. You’re gorgeous. You’re ripped. You’re a lot of man, and you just had to go and show it off by running around shirtless and sans jockstrap. Talk about presentation. You practically called them on.”
“I did no such thing!”
“Even if you didn’t dress like that on purpose, it wouldn’t take much. You’re the best looking thing to hit this club, and look. You’re with me. And they’re already jealous of me.”
“They are?”
“Women are jealous creatures, especially the older ones. Fitness clubs are full of them. So is my client list. I have to be very careful what I say and how I act. The beautiful ones are the worst. Some don’t age well. They work really hard and pay a lot of money to hang onto their youth and looks. Just wait. You’ll see. Here. You’ll need this.”
She handed him her comb. He took it.
“You want a mirror?”
“Never use them.”
“Okay. Now, I know you’re full of it.”
“Why?”
He slid the hair-band off and combed through long locks, looking even sexier in a wild man sort of way. His hair was glossy and black. Thick. Near mid-back length. Much longer than hers. She watched the muscles moving about on his upper chest and arms as he refastened his queue. She cleared her throat.
“Because narcissistic men need mirrors. They have to look at themselves. In every position. All day. All night. All the time. You probably have your walls and ceilings plastered with mirrors. Tell me I’m wrong.”
The look he gave her was indescribable. Dark. Angered. Creating trills all along her arms and then shoulders at solid menace. He took a step toward her and the next second an explosion rocked the room, sending her into the back wall. Rafaele disappeared upward, jettisoned by the blast right through the ceiling. The hole he made enlarged as she watched, adding dust and debris onto the scene. Acrid smoke filled the room, making her eyes water, adding to the blur, and making her head hurt.
