Part 16 (1/2)
She squirmed in his embrace, ignoring the rush of heat he created in every naughty bit she owned. ”I guess it should be Dark Shadows now. You know, to show solidarity for our people.”
”Stop dwelling and stick to the here and now. Current favorite soap opera.”
She shook her head with a giggle. ”I can't choose. They're like kids. I love them all for different reasons.”
”Wishy-washy at best, Ms. Reynolds. Okay, name one place you've always wanted to go but haven't had the chance to.” His hands palmed her back, rolling circular motions over it.
She tried to snuggle closer without being incredibly obvious, yet fight the sensual climb of heat he was creating by putting her hands on his chest. ”Italy. Venice in particular. I want to ride in a gondola. I'm hoping I'll live long enough to teleport myself there. The dream before this all happened was to sort of Eat Pray Love the Italian/India/Bali experience. You know, like the movie where Julia Roberts goes to Italy, eats her way through the country, gains twenty pounds?”
”I vaguely remember it,” Sam muttered, his hand moving to her lower back area.
”But seeing as I can no longer eat, and I'm not a fan of sweating it out in an ashram or giving up my moisturizer for the pray portion of that dream. I'll stick to a gondola.”
When he answered, his voice had turned to hot chocolate, slipping over her frayed nerves and warming the cold, fearful depths of them. ”I'd ride in a gondola with you.”
Somehow, their lips had become but inches apart. Sam's eyes glowed in the dark of his bedroom, churning with emotion. ”Sam?”
”Yeah?”
”I think I'd better sit up.”
”Are you uncomfortable?”
Oh, on the contrary. She was on fire. Nothing about it was uncomfortable.
He s.h.i.+fted, swinging her around and pulling them up to the head of the bed where he could brace himself against the pillows. Her legs straddled his lap, falling to either side of his strong thighs. ”Better?”
What wasn't better about being in Sam's lap while his man-bits of pleasure were so close to hers she could scream from the heat of it?
”So where were we? Moisturizer and ashrams.”
”Gondolas.”
”In Italy,” he husked out, the tips of his fingers grazing the exposed flesh where her sweats.h.i.+rt had risen above her pant line.
That just a simple touch of his fingers was making her skin burn like he was the match and she was the gasoline caught her off guard. Every nerve ending responded to his touch in surround sound, and while she'd enjoyed plenty of s.e.x in her time, a mere touch had never had so much magnification.
Oh, if this was just a taste of what was to come when you experienced s.e.x as a vampire-he should just stake her now. Right now. Otherwise, she'd surely die of the pleasure.
Cupping her face, Sam drew her to him, his lips so near every line in them was magnified. ”Phoebe?”
”Um, yep?”
”We shouldn't be doing this,” he whispered, lining her lower lip with his tongue.
She fought to keep her eyes open. ”Hey, you said no, rejected me like one would reject an undercooked piece of chicken at a bar mitzvah, and I went without balking. No is no. Even for girls.”
His teeth gleamed in the glow of the city lights outside his window just before he nipped the corner of her mouth. ”Like I said, we shouldn't be doing this. You know, touching.”
Phoebe flapped her hands at her sides all while her insides turned to mush. ”This is me not touching you.”
”But I'm touching you,” he drawled, slow and hot.
”Guilty as charged.”
Sam let his fingers caress her cheekbone, lighting small fires on her cool skin. ”I shouldn't be touching you.”
The attempt to keep her voice steady was going to be an effort, but she made it anyway. ”I guess that depends on who you ask.”
”But I really want to touch you. We have a dilemma.”
”Okay, so could we make a choice here? Touch. Don't touch. Do me. Don't do me. But choose. I mean, if I miss this because of the attack that is vampire sleep, someone's going to pay. Ball's in your court. Go.”
Sam's lips grazed her jaw. ”I wanted to wait.”
For what? The second coming? ”For?”
”The courting process.”
Court this. ”Then we'll have to wait a little while longer while we figure out if we're going to die. After that, I'm free as a bird. Get back to me then. I'll pencil you in.”
Sam's groan was one of frustration when his mouth almost touched hers. ”I wanted to take you to a movie. Bring you flowers. Candy's out, but I'd bet I could manage to put a bow on a packet of blood with Marty's help.”
”Dreamy.” Soooo dreamy.
”I wanted to watch TV with you. Read the Sunday paper with you. Maybe take a moonlit stroll in Central Park with you.”
Flares of white-hot heat a.s.saulted Phoebe when he took to nipping her lips again. Add in his words, words that touched every romantic bone in her body, and she was headed for a puddle of b.u.t.ter. ”Was this all going to occur before you made your slick nerd bedroom moves on me?”
”Well, that was the gentlemanly plan.”
”We'd have been dating into the next millennium. Maybe we should double up and do blood and Sunday papers together as sort of a combination package?”
”I wanted to court you in the way you deserved, Phoebe. With all the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs.”
Tingles rippled up her spine at his gravelly admission. ”And now?”
”Now I want to do that and run my tongue all over your body.”
”All at once? Central Park will never be the same.” She clamped her lips together to prevent a moan while he slid his tongue over the sh.e.l.l of her ear. Hearing those words was like finding out Chanel had named her their sole heir.
When she leaned into him, kneading her fingers into his hard chest, he let out a sharp hiss. ”I want to throw you down on the bed, rip off your sweats, and make you scream.”
Er, pause. Some honesty was needed here. ”I can at least relieve you of one stressor. Here's the thing. I'm not much of a screamer. Just so we won't have any lingering disappointments between us. I'm not very noisy when I ... you know ... Doesn't mean it's not good, just means I'm stealthy.”
Sam lifted his head from her ear, his eyebrow c.o.c.king upward in arrogance. ”Oh, I think I can make you scream.”
Phoebe planted her hands on her hips and rolled her neck at his challenge. ”Was that like a double-dog dare?”
His grin was c.o.c.ky. Deliciously c.o.c.ky. ”Maybe.”