by Alicia Ryan
Jack looked at her with narrowed eyes but nodded.
“Superb!” Lance said. “Where do we go?”
Roxanna went to put her cloak in her room, and when she returned, all three gentlemen were seated in the front row of the sitting room. Lance, too small for the large, cushioned, chairs, was swinging his feet and twisting one way and then the other.
“Maybe it’s too much church for one day, but...here goes.”
And so she sang a litany of her favorite Christmas carols—from “Silent Night” to “The First Noel” to “Frosty the Snowman”, finishing with “O, Holy Night”.
Lance jumped out of his seat with a wide smile and started clapping as loudly as his little hands could manage. To her everlasting surprise, Jack stood and joined him.
Phillip sat stock still, looking at her with glistening eyes. She could see the rise and fall of his chest and wondered why he’d be so affected by a few Christmas carols.
“You have to teach me the one about the snowman,” Lance said. “I want to sing it to my sisters.”
She smiled down at his eager face. “You bet,” she said. “It goes like this...” And she sang it twice more, and then Lance repeated it back to her.
“Come on,” Jack said, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder when he was done. “I have to get back to work, and you need to get home. It’ll be getting dark soon.”
“Yes, Jack,” he said. “I’m off right now.” And he bolted from the room.
Roxanna looked at Jack. “Is he always so well-behaved?”
“Never.” For a moment his perpetual seriousness lifted, and he gave her a warm smile. “You inspired him, I believe. I’ll let you know how long it lasts.”
“Please do. I am indebted to him. I’d like to know how he’s doing.”
Jack nodded. “I do need to get back to work,” he said, turning to go. “But that was splendid, Roxanna. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said to his retreating back.
Phillip’s arms encircled her from behind. “Every day, you amaze me.”
She turned but stepped back to put a bit of distance between them. “You didn’t think I knew any Christmas songs?”
“It’s not that.” He shook his head. “Well, not quite. It’s just...are you so passionate in everything you do? I had thought...well...”
“You thought I only sang about sex.”
“I hope you can forgive me.”
“I’m passionate about singing. It just so happens the songs I’m required to sing here are of the explicitly sexual variety.”
“Those were beautiful.”
“Have you never heard any of them?”
“Only one,” he said. “’The First Noel’ is one we sing.”
“I would have thought Christmas carols had been around longer.”
He shook his head. “I, too, wish there was more we had in common.”
“I’m going to rest for a bit,” she said, wanting some emotional distance as well. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
“As always.” He hesitated for a moment, and then gave her a shallow bow and left—using the front entrance, of course, because he was a man.
She shook her head, thinking this century was starting to have far too many men. Being broke and alone in Vegas wasn’t exactly a lifestyle choice, but it had the virtue of being uncomplicated. She was starting to miss uncomplicated.
Chapter Eighteen
So she endeavored to keep the next two weeks uncomplicated. She sang, she slept, she ate, and she waited.
Phillip had tried to get her to accompany him to the opera early on, but she’d refused, telling him the plain truth that she needed to keep their relationship within certain boundaries. After that, he’d respected her wishes, and they’d gone back to being musical companions and nothing more, though on much easier terms than when they’d started. And that was the way it had to be—at least until she had some resolution of her situation with Darren.
But no resolution had been forthcoming. He remained absent from her performances, her nights. There had been no message, no more visits from Andrew. She was on her own and beset by the nagging feeling that it was time for her to make a decision.
Contemplating returning to her old life didn’t exactly fill her with excitement, but she could see no future for herself here—none that involved singing or hard work, which was what she knew. A fling with Darren would have been glorious, but how could it really have ended? With her a mistress? Doing what all day while her vampire lover slept?
And Phillip. She didn’t know what to make of his words of love. Perhaps he meant them. She couldn’t deny he looked at her now with a tenderness she didn’t always welcome. It made her feel undeserving. Or maybe he was confusing a little lust with love. Either way, there was no future with him. Mistress? Unlikely. Wife? Even more unlikely. And the idea of being a housewife made her want to hurl.
She gritted her teeth and cursed the stove in her room, finally deciding to just shiver through her brief bath. She was getting used to the cold. Phillip had made lighting the damn thing look so easy.
Maybe that’s why he was on her mind, she thought, smiling. She’d bet anything he’d be handy around the house—definitely good husband material.
And the wedding night...As much as she missed Darren terribly, she couldn’t deny her thoughts strayed to Phillip more often than she wished. It was his innocence; it had to be. She’d never known anyone like him, and she was a little...well, whatever. She wanted to see him fulfill his potential—the flirty, naughty potential she’d once thought of running away from. The temptation to tease it out of him had grown stronger, notwithstanding she’d pushed him away and, to all appearances, was being the dutiful mistress to her missing vampire.
Her vampire who would live forever. Who could take forever to get rid of his bloodthirsty friend. She, unfortunately, didn’t have forever. She only had now. And now kind of sucked.
At least in Vegas, she had a home. A place of her own, clothes of her own—all paid for with her own money. And she had goals, a dream. Arguably, if singing for a living was her dream, she had it here, but she couldn’t live trapped in the cold bottom floor of a gentlemen’s club. Couldn’t live without singing and couldn’t sing if she wanted to have any sort of life—not here.
So common sense told her she had only one alternative. Maybe it was coming sooner than it otherwise might have, but this was always the way it was going to have to be. She could see that now.
Surprised, but grateful, she found Jack’s office unlocked. Paper and pen proved easy enough to find, and she sat down in his chair to compose her note. It contained nothing to give away her identity or location if it fell into the wrong hands—just a request for Darren to send his friend Andrew around to see her again as she’d come to a decision of which she would like to inform him. Darren would know what she meant. And she half-heartedly congratulated herself on making it sound passably English.
Still, she read it five times before sealing the envelope, but there was just no getting around the fact that she didn’t belong here.
Darren had made her feel like she belonged—like she belonged with him. But he didn’t belong anywhere either. Two misfits out of time and out of place—what kind of future did they have? They weren’t even the same species. And could she live with his particular brand of desire? One that, by his own admission, didn’t allow much room for emotion.
Back in her room, she set the note aside, planning to get one of the footmen to deliver it when they changed shifts. No doubt one of them would do it for a small fee. She’d find one to approach once Phillip had gone for the afternoon.
Phillip.
One kiss for the man who loves you...
Those words haunted her. They made her want things.
And if she was leaving, why shouldn’t she have them? Why shouldn’t she say goodbye to Phillip the way she wanted to?
That thought occupied her mind through every moment of their morning pr
actice. She sang her favorites and the ones she knew he liked. She sang to him, more than she had ever done. She wanted to be good to him.
When she called a halt, she crossed over to where he sat, hiked up her skirt and straddled the piano stool.
“Roxanna.” His brows shot up, and his lower lip dropped open as he sucked in a breath.
“A kiss for the man who loves me?” she asked, feeling suddenly uncertain. What if he didn’t? What if those were just words?
Warm hands grasped either side of her face and pulled her to him, his lips finding hers with uncharacteristic sureness.
Be good to him. That thought ran again through her head, and she drew his tongue into her mouth, lathing and sucking him, giving into a voracious need to imprint herself on this man. She wanted him to remember her. She’d never forget him.
When he drew away to take a breath, she didn’t fight against the desire that flamed in her at the yearning look in his eyes. She wanted to satisfy that yearning. A man like him shouldn’t have to yearn for anything. Someone should take care of him.
“I think you should accompany me to my room,” she said, willing him to get her meaning.
“Of course,” he said, pulling away. He stood and offered her his hand. “Is something bothering you? Or someone?”
“No,” she said. “There’s something I want.”
He met her gaze, and she could see something more like hope than realization. She took his hand and slung her leg over the stool, but he didn’t move, so they stood there—two arms’ length apart, holding hands.
Finally, she closed the distance between them as much as was physically possible with them both still clothed. Winding her hands around his neck, she pushed her breasts into his chest and pulled his head down so she could whisper to him.
“I want to be good to you, Phillip. Will you let me?”
His hot breath hit her ear and made her want to moan. It also made her wet, as if thinking about this all morning hadn’t already accomplished that. If he refused, she was going to kill him, she thought.
“How good?” he asked.
She felt relief and desire in equal measure and gave in to the urge to smile. These days, she found that he often made her smile.
“As good as I know how to be.” She curled her fingers at the fringes of his hair. “For as long as you can stand it.”
He drew back to look at her. “Are you sure?”
Oh, she didn’t want to ask this question, she thought. “Are you?”
“Yes,” he said. “Absolutely.”
She leaned into him again. “Then why are we still out here?”
Laughing, he let her lead the way to her room.
Closing the door behind her, she turned to face Phillip, who looked like he was about to ask another question.
“Nope,” she said, putting up a hand. “We can discuss whatever you want after.”
“And now?” he asked.
Roxanna raised her eyes heavenward. “Now, if you please, kind sir, I’d like to fuck you senseless. With your esteemed permission, of course.”
His mouth turned up at the corner. “I do not speak that way.”
She came to stand in front of him. “You certainly do, but you’d better not. If I hear any more out of you than moans, whimpers, and begging, I’m going to be very upset with you.”
His smile was gone, and his eyes bored into her. “I don’t want that.”
“Good.”
“Show me what to do,” he said softly.
She stepped back and began unbuttoning the buttons at the collar of her dress.
Phillip brushed her hands away. “Let me,” he said.
His dexterous fingers made short work of the trail of buttons, and Roxanna shrugged out of the top of the dress so it pooled at her waist, revealing her breasts to his gaze. In a moment, Phillip’s hands were tangled in her hair, and he was kissing her like a man on fire, and she loved it. Somewhere along the way, her demure piano player had become a first-rate kisser. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and put her hands into his hair. He groaned but then broke away.
“Are you sure about this, Roxanna? You don’t have to, you know. And...and you shouldn’t if this is just because you feel sorry for me.”
“Sorry for you?” She dragged his mouth back to hers and kissed him hungrily—and very improperly. “I don’t feel one bit sorry for you.”
He was panting, and Roxanna had a feeling his first time was long overdue. She pushed him gently backward until his legs hit the edge of her bed. He went to sit down, but she stopped him, moving to unbutton his trousers. As she did, he shrugged out of his coat and threw it on the floor.
She pushed him down, his pants around his thighs. Picking up her skirt, she moved to straddle him before he could object.
“Roxanna–”
“Ssh.” She leaned forward, putting her lips to his. His hands came up to cup her breasts.
“Let’s do this my way,” she said, “and then we can do it your way.”
He gave her a confused look. “You mean...?”
“That we’re going to do it more than once? Yes.” She rubbed herself against his cock, loving the smooth, warm feel of it against her skin. “Once won’t be nearly enough.”
His body rose up to greet her, and she used one hand to guide him inside. He looked at her in wonderment, and then made a strangled noise as she fully seated herself on him.
She was ready. Guiding Phillip’s hands to her hips, she began to slowly move. It wasn’t long before he got the idea and used his hands to guide her into the rhythm he needed. She wanted to beg him to hold out longer but knew it wasn’t fair. She’d get her turn, but this was for him, and soon enough he was climaxing inside her. His head was thrown back against the wall, his eyes had closed, and his jaw had dropped open—whether in shock or just to take deep breaths, she didn’t know.
It was a few moments before he looked at her. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
She raised herself off him, and he groaned and sucked in a breath. “I didn’t mean I wanted you to leave,” he protested.
She got to work on the few remaining buttons on her dress and let it drop to the floor. “Don’t think I’m through with you yet, Mister Branham.”
His brows shot up, even as his incredible blue eyes roved over her body.
“Want to touch me?” she asked.
He just nodded and rose, stripping off the rest of his clothes as he stalked her in a small circle that led them back to the bed.
For the next hour, he explored every inch of her with his mouth and hands. She was delighted to have such a diligent student, but she wanted to scream for him to get on with it. And yet, she didn’t want to deny him anything he wanted. She had the feeling he’d been wanting this, with someone, for a very long time.
He looked up at her when he came to the scars on her leg, but didn’t ask any questions. She was relieved by that. She wasn’t ready to cede Darren’s territory to him. And since when had it become Darren’s territory? She hadn’t looked at Darren’s bite mark, but reckoned it must have healed because Phillip didn’t give any indication of noticing it. Maybe it looked like just another scar.
When he slid between her legs, she was ready to scream.
“Roxanna, may I?” he asked, even as he pushed against her.
“Oh, God, yes. Please.”
He smiled down at her and kissed her as he came inside.
In that moment, Roxanna had to struggle not to come around him. He was so deliciously sized, he hit all the right spots without even trying. And when she bent her knee to wrap her leg around him, every down stroke of his hips ground against Darren’s bite mark, sending her into a paroxysm of pleasure and pain. In a few moments, she gave in and cried out his name, her mind filled with images of both her beautiful lovers.
“Oh, God, Roxanna,” Phillip moaned into her neck. “I love you.” His strokes got faster. “I love you.”
Was it real or still their game of pretend
? She grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss.
He rode her harder, tore his mouth away and gasped as he came on top of her. Roxanna ran her hands over his muscled back as he collapsed.
It was a few moments before he spoke. “Please don’t tell me to move,” he said.
“Never.”
She wondered where that had come from and suddenly hoped this was all just indeed a dream where everything would work out for happily ever after—no matter what mistakes she made. But which was the mistake? Darren or Phillip? At the moment, she didn’t know. And she supposed, at this point, it didn’t really matter.
Phillip groaned into her neck once more, and Roxanna shifted beneath him, adding her own moan to his. He was heavy between her legs, and his weight rested on the bite. She moved a little more to get his weight where she wanted it. To her surprise, she felt him stiffen inside her.
She looked at him when he pushed up onto his elbows and began to move again.
“No point wasting a perfectly good afternoon,” he said, smiling. And she thought she’d never seen a smile quite so devastating.
By the time afternoon drew to a close, Roxanna was a quivering heap. She and Phillip lay facing each other, spent, but seemingly unable to stop kissing—just soft, earnest kisses now. But no less earth-shattering, she thought.
“I don’t know what changed today,” he said. “But I’m glad.”
“Sometimes things just have to change.”
“I want you to tell me the truth, Roxanna. Is this a beginning or an ending?”
She turned away.
“You’re leaving aren’t you?”
“It’s time.”
He turned her toward him with a gentle finger on her chin. “There are other options,” he said. “Things are different. I’ve come to see things differently.”
“Believe me, I’ve been down every road, Phillip. None of them lead to me staying here. Not happily.”
“Will you be happy if you leave?”
She closed her eyes. “Not for a long time, I don’t think. But maybe eventually.”
He wiped a stray tear from beneath her lashes. “Then stay another day, Roxanna. Make a few more memories to take with you.” He ran his thumb across her kiss-swollen bottom lip. “And give me a few more to keep.”
