Part 7 (1/2)
She rolled her eyes. ”I know.”
”I'm not going to try anymore.”
”What?” She stared at him, mouth agape, and he grinned.
”Nope.” He said, his voice disgustingly cheerful despite the arousal that was evident by the erection straining the fly of his jeans and his fully extended fangs. He grinned at her, those fangs gleaming in the overhead light. ”If you want me, you're going to have to seduce me.”
Chapter Six.
”If you want me, you're going to have to seduce me!” Rowan mimicked, seething. She was in the worn football jersey she used as a nightgown, pacing the floor of the room he'd given her and working herself into a fine temper over the night's events.
He'd dropped his little bombsh.e.l.l then, while she was still stunned speechless, hustled her into the bedroom with a kiss on the forehead and a cheery goodnight. Her lip curled in to a sneer at the memory. He got her all worked up, made her come on a public street for G.o.d's sake, told her he was a vampire then patted her on the head like a child.
She sat down on the bed with a huff and ran frustrated fingers through her hair. G.o.dd.a.m.n him, he'd been righta”the panting, clenching climax in the shadows of a deserted street hadn't even taken the edge off. Her p.u.s.s.y still pulsed, aching to be filled, and her nipples were still diamond hard. She'd expected him to bring her back here, spread her out like a Thanksgiving feast and eat her alive. Instead, he'd made it her choice.
The unexpected chivalry of the gesture had her completely off balance, which, come to think of it, was probably part of his plan. ”b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” she muttered, and got back up to pace.
Jack was an accomplished seducer. She'd seen plenty of it in the time he'd worked for her father. He loved women, and while he was with them, he was completely focused. Attentive, considerate, charming. He took them to dinner, to shows, to the hot spots in L.A. In the work he did for her father, he came into contact with a lot of high-profile names and he wasn't above exploiting those glitzy connections to show a lady a good time. But eventually the novelty wore off, at least for him, and within a few weeks, a month or two at the most, he'd be ready to move on. The woman was always left satisfied, but she was always left.
Rowan paced harder, recalling a particularly ugly scene she'd witnessed during an impromptu visit to her father's house for dinner. Jack was there discussing some bit of company business with her dad and doing his best to drive her crazy when Brooks had come into the dining room and announced Mr. Donnelly had a visitor. Jack hadn't even had time to inquire who when a strung-out, sobbing mess of a woman had stumbled into the room.
She winced as she recalled the pity and sorrow that had welled up in her as she watched. Jack had taken control of the situation immediately, guiding the distraught and weeping woman to the terrace off the dining room, his low voice soothing as he pulled her out of earshot.
Rowan would have liked to believe that she was just a friend in need, come to him for aid, but she knew better. She knew the woman, at least through social circles, and knew Jack had broken off a two-month relations.h.i.+p with her only a few weeks before.
She hadn't stayed to see the outcome but made excuses of a headache and an early teachers' meeting the next morning, leaving as quickly as she could. She knew her father hadn't bought the excuse but he hadn't pressed her. She'd gone home and crawled into bed, ridiculously close to tears, and had determined then and there she wasn't going to be one of Jack Donnelly's casualties.
Which didn't do anything for her current state of arousal. She stopped at the window, looking out on the quiet village, the blanket of stars covering it, crossing her arms over her chest. The sc.r.a.pe of soft cotton over her oversensitive nipples had her swallowing a groan. What was she going to do?
Jack lay naked on the king-sized bed in the master bedroom, covered only by a thin sheet. He stared at the ceiling and wondered for about the hundredth time in the last half hour what the h.e.l.l he was doing.
It had taken all of his willpower to not grab Rowan, shove her down on the bed or whatever flat surface was available and have at her. Giving her the choice of whether or not to finish what they'd started in the shadows of Ms. McGilley's Millinery Shop had been an impulse, one he was now bitterly regretting.
He stared down at his c.o.c.k, which showed no sign of subsiding any time soon, and the thought of Rowan only a thin wall away nearly had him rising to his feet to go get her. He knew she'd let hima”she was just as frustrated as him, if not more. h.e.l.l, he could smell the arousal on her from here and the thin walls of the flat did nothing to hide sound of her pacing in the next room.
No, she wouldn't turn him away tonight, but there was more than just a quick f.u.c.k at stake. He made her skittisha”not physically. Most people were intimidated by his sizea”six feet six inches and two hundred and forty pounds tended to get people's attention. But she'd never shown any signs of being afraid of his greater strength and size. She wasn't afraid of him as a man either, although he knew their s.e.xual chemistry made her nervous. h.e.l.l, it made him nervousa”he'd never been with a woman who'd affected him so quickly.
No, it was the s.e.xual connection they shared and the possibility of a more meaningful emotional connection that had her running scared. And frankly, he couldn't blame her. Were the situations reversed, he imagined he'd feel the same. He had a huge advantage over her that she hadn't even realized until tonight, and he knew the knowledge he could get inside her head was going to be one more obstaclea”a big onea”in his way.
He s.h.i.+fted, trying to find a more comfortable position on the bed as he thought over their conversation in the street. He couldn't actually read her mind, not in the way that most frightened her, but his senses were particularly sharp when it came to reading emotion. If she lied to him, he'd know it by the telltale quickening of her pulse, as easy for him to read as a neon sign. He knew when she was aroused, when she was angry, when she was happy or sad. She couldn't hide what she was feeling from him, which in some ways was worse than if he were able to read her thoughts. One could control thoughts to a certain degree but emotion was much harder to regulate.
He s.h.i.+fted again, grimacing as comfort eluded him. He was lying on the finest Irish linen but he was so painfully aroused that his skin was ultrasensitive and it sc.r.a.ped at his flesh like burlap. He finally gave up, propped his hands behind his head and decided to count the cracks in the plaster ceiling to pa.s.s the time. G.o.d knew he wasn't going to get any sleep, not with the woman of his dreams in the next room, fairly marinating in her own juices.
He was going to leave the choice up to her if it killed him. Which felt like a distinct possibility at the moment. He sighed and started counting cracks.
He was doing a fair job of distracting himself and had counted four hundred and sixty-seven cracks when the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. He paused in his examination of crack number four hundred and sixty-eight, muscles coiling and waited. Something had alerted him, a slight noise in the hall, and he prepared to leap from the bed. Then the scent caught his nose and he paused in mid spring. Warm and musky with an underlay of spice and the faint floral of lingering perfume. He'd know that scent anywhere.
”Rowan?” he called softly, and again heard the soft shuffling sound that had first alerted him.
There was a long pause and then, ”What?”
He frowned. ”What are you doing in the hall?”
”Couldn't sleep.”
”Are you hungry?”
”No.”
”Thirsty?”
She laughed faintly. ”No.”
”Lonely?”
He watched the doork.n.o.b turn slowly, the glow of light from the hall edging into the room as the door opened. ”Can you make me a promise, Jack?”
He didn't hesitate. ”Anything that's in my power to do.”
”Good.” The door opened wider and he saw her. She was backlit by the hall light, the generous curves of her body outlined clearly in the soft glow. She was wearing some oversized jersey from an American football team as a night rail. The soft fabric draped her lovingly, hugging every curve and ending at the tops of her thighs, and even from the bed, he could see her trembling faintly. Her face was in shadows though, and he strained to read her expression.
She walked into the room, closed the door at her back and without the compet.i.tion of artificial light, the moon caught her in its beam and lit her face. He saw the trepidation in the depths of her eyes, in the hard swallow that drew his eyes to the elegant column of her neck. But he also saw the arousal in the frantic pulse beating there, in the quickness of her breathing. And he smelled it on her. The scent of her need, which had been taunting him all night, had been faint and fleeting through the barriers of wood and plaster. But now, in the same room, it nearly made him swallow his tongue.
He struggled to focus on her face. He knew this was an important momenta”she'd come to him after all. But he was having a hard time remembering that over the beating of his own blood. He swallowed hard and managed after a couple of attempts to speak.
”What promise is it you need from me, Rowan?”
He watched her draw a deep breath. The large s.h.i.+rt she was wearing rose with the motion, thrusting her b.r.e.a.s.t.s forward and raising the hem of the s.h.i.+rt a tantalizing inch higher on her thighs. His eyes nearly crossed trying to keep track of both movements. Still, he managed to keep his ears open for her response.
”I need you to promise me that I can be in charge.”
He frowned, disappointed. They'd been over this, security was his area. If there was any danger, he needed to be able to count on her to follow direction.
”Rowan, we've discussed this. I know you're not happy about having to be here, away from your job, your friends. And taking orders from me. But it's necessary for your safety.”
She stared at him, and for a moment he was afraid she'd burst into tears. He blinkeda”startled when she laughed and shook her head. ”No, that's not what I mean.”
”I don't understand.”
She rolled her eyes. ”I know you've got to be in charge generally, Jack. I don't really like it but I accept it. That's not what I meant.”
He was confused. ”You've lost me, love.”
She was fiddling with the hem of her s.h.i.+rt, giving him flashes of silken thigh and the shadows between them. He struggled to concentrate when he saw her mouth moving. ”I mean, I need for you to promise me I can be in charge in here.”
It took him a minute to understand what she meant. The realization when it came nearly knocked him sideways with l.u.s.t. ”You mean the bedroom?” She nodded and he swore he actually felt the majority of his blood drain to his lap. ”All the time?”