This house does not suit my needs.
I had seen that seven-word sentence more times than I was willing to admit. It was the same exactly worded email sent over and over, always starting with Ms. Amanda Patterson, with the inevitable This house does not suit my needs. That damn sentence was always followed with I will await your next attempt. Then it was signed Darian St. Xavier.
I should’ve known immediately with a name like that, he was going to be a problem. Then again, most of my clients were … different. I was a realtor with a specialty.
But this client was the hardest I’d ever worked with.
And for the last six months, I’d desperately been trying to find the perfect home for him. Which, at many points during this journey, had felt like an impossible endeavor.
Sitting in my nice and toasty car, I punched the button on the steering wheel, turning down the music blaring from some hard rock channel. I needed to relax and be hopeful. That’s the advice my mother would’ve given me if she were still alive.
Be hopeful.
Good things come your way when you’re hopeful.
So, I was going to try my hardest to do just that. Brushing back meticulously smooth strands of brown hair, I closed my eyes. I drew in a deep, calming breath as I worked the tension out of my shoulders and arms. I’ve got this. I’ve totally got this.
Tonight might be the night. This was the first time he’d ever asked to view a house for the second time. God, I hoped it was, because I hated feeling like I couldn’t perform for a buyer. Not that it wasn’t about the money. Closing on this deal meant one hell of a commission check, but I was damn good at my job. One of the top and youngest realtors in the Potomac area that dealt with the … well, different type of buyers. I had a reputation for finding homes for the most peculiar of buyers and closing them in record time, all the while never once treating my clients like they were different than me.
And Darian St. Fuck-Face was ruining it for me, making me doubt my ability to close the deal. Damn it. I had enough doubt in my life lately. I didn’t need it creeping into my career.
Never in my decade-long run as a realtor was I having such a hard time finding a house for a client.
Or a client that had so many needs.
Recently renovated. Gourmet kitchen. Upgraded bathrooms. Vaulted ceilings. Ceiling fans in every room. These were mostly common requests, but Darian St. Xavier? He took needs to a whole new level. My client wanted all of these things plus acreage. He did not want to see a single neighbor. That alone limited available homes. But he didn’t just want a modest-size home. Oh no, he wanted what basically constituted a mansion. Not one of the mcmansions that dominated the area, but a real one. The house had to be well over five thousand square feet and needed to have a theater space. A bar area. A library and a panic room. Yes, a legit panic room or, at least, a walk-in safe. I tried not to think about why my client wanted a walk-in safe or what he’d keep in there.
Because I seriously doubted it was money.
And, of course, he wanted a fully finished, windowless basement.
Fully. Finished. Windowless. Basement.
Most realtors didn’t have to deal with requests like that. Not me, though. Most buyers wanted their basement to feel like it wasn’t below ground. They wanted it light and airy. But I didn’t work with most buyers. My specialty was finding homes for those who were not remotely human.
Which meant I hadn’t even laid eyes on Darian St. Xavier. That was common in my field. I almost always worked with human assistants. Rarely did I meet the buyers face to face.
So, for all I knew, he could be a highly evolved llama that had learned how to communicate via email.
Okay, that was dumb, because I knew exactly what he was, but again, he was different. Unlike the others I’d worked with, he was a ghost. Nothing on social media. And his kind usually loved being on social media, but he didn’t have a Facebook or Twitter, an Instagram, or even a LinkedIn profile. He was nonexistent and that was more than a little bizarre in the digital age.
All the listings I’d found were sent via email and then he’d send his assistant to go view the home for him. Nigel, his human assistant, was a sweetie, so I didn’t mind working with him.
And I had found this house.
Against all odds, I’d found a large home on six acres of land, fully renovated and upgraded, with a walk-in safe and a section of the finished basement that had no windows in it. There was no panic room and there were definitely some rooms that needed ceiling fans added, but the house was almost perfect.
And Nigel was coming back to see the house for a second time.
“I’ve got this,” I said, opening my eyes. Night had fallen but the other realtor had left the outdoor lights on. The house was stunning at night: a sprawling two-story estate that overlooked the Potomac. This place would be a beast to get in and out of if it snowed, but hopefully my client didn’t think of that.
Glancing at the clock, my heart tripped up. Crap. Nigel would be here any minute, and I was still sitting in my car.
I sprang into action, snatching my purse off the seat as I turned off the car. Throwing open the door, I winced as cold air barreled into the car. Winter was in full swing, and I couldn’t wait to get home to change out of my heels and the smart, black pencil skirt, and the cute white blouse that was sleeveless and had a thin section of dainty ruffles down the middle. I loved the shirt. It was cute yet sexy and stylish, but it was a wee bit constrictive in the breast area. My outfit was darling, but even with the wool coat, I was freezing as I raced up the flagstone walkway and to the front door. All I wanted was my oversized, comfy sweats that had holes in places they shouldn’t and my old Radford University sweater.
A kernel of discontent formed in my belly. It was a Friday night, and all I wanted was to go home, but was that what I really wanted? Yes … and no. Lately, I’d been left feeling like I was missing out on something—on life. And if I was being brutally honest with myself, I’d been feeling like this long before the divorce.
It was one of the reasons why the divorce was initiated in the first place. Nick, my ex, he deserved—well, he deserved better. He deserved love and lust and friendship and all the wonderful things that made a marriage work.
All we had was the friendship part, and somewhere over the last eight years we’d become roomies and not husband and wife. So when he filed for divorce, I hadn’t been surprised.
I shook off the feeling. Now was not the time to self-analyze and wonder what the hell was wrong with me. I could do that later when it was two in the morning and I couldn’t sleep.
Punching my code into the lockbox, I opened the door and rushed in as the wind seemed to chase after me, lifting the edges of my hair. The entryway light was already on, so I hurried toward the small closet as I shrugged off my jacket. I hung it on the hanger and tucked my purse inside, keeping my phone in my hand.
I had only minutes to spare before Nigel arrived, so I turned on the lights in the kitchen and the spacious front room. If I had more time, I’d turn on all the lights.
Quiet, staged homes freaked me out which was kind of dumb since I was a realtor and spent an ungodly amount of time in tomb-silent houses, but they always left me feeling a little unsettled.
I darted to the massive, bronze front door, my heels clicking off the travertine stones. The front door was windowless, but there were slender windows on either side, allowing me to watch without being seen.
Headlights appeared in the driveway at exactly seven o’clock on the dot, piercing the inky blackness that clung to the tall elms lining the road that led to the house.
Immediately, I knew something was off.
The headlights were way too high to belong to the black town car Nigel always drove.
Um.
My stomach dropped all the way to my pointed heels. I clutched my cellphone in my hand as a truck pulled up to the house. A truck? Was it the owner of the home? It couldn’t be someone who’d stumbled upon the listing because it hadn’t even been publicly listed yet. Was it some maintenance person? Or a serial killer?
I rolled my eyes.
Going from maintenance person to a serial killer was a bit excessive.
It could be the buyer, but if that was the case Nigel would be with him. My typical clients never showed without a human assistant. I wasn’t sure why, but it reminded me of how male doctors were never in the room with ladies without a female nurse present.
Nigel could be in the truck though.
The outdoor lighting reflected off the side of the truck. It was a newer one, definitely a black or dark blue. The headlights turned off and then the driver’s door opened. A tall, lean form slipped out. There wasn’t enough light to see anything of the man, but it was definitely a man—a very tall man, and there didn’t appear to be anyone else with him.
“Who are you?” I whispered as he closed the door. I glanced down at my phone. 7:01 p.m. Nigel was never late, but this was not Nigel.
Okay, I needed to see who this man was and why he was here. And this wasn’t the first time someone like the owner or some other random person had appeared before a showing. I knew how to take care of this, and besides, I wasn’t stupid. I always kept my cellphone in my hand or on my person when showing homes, one button away from making an emergency call if necessary.
People were crazy.
Taking a deep breath, I skewed my face into a ‘do not mess with me’ expression, hardening my jaw and thinning out my lips. It wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do with my face since I was someone who looked younger than my thirty-three years, which normally I appreciated but when I needed to look intimidating and fierce? Not so much. It was my brown eyes, wide set and big that made me look about as dangerous as a newly born fawn, but I had a lot of practice perfecting the resting bitch face.
Or, in other words, active bitch face.
I straightened up, coming to my whopping full height of five foot three, and opened the door, prepared to handle this guy. Whatever I was about to say, whatever I was about to do faded away the moment the man stepped under the light and I saw him.
I’ll never be the same.
That thought was crazy and cheesy, and did I mention crazy? Yes. It was all those things, but it was true because this man …
This was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
He had to be well over six feet tall, which meant he towered over me, but it wasn’t just his height that was impressive. He had a head full of messy, wavy black hair that toppled over his forehead, brushing against equally dark, winged brows. He had a strong nose. Not large. Just … strong. Aristocratic. If that was a thing, and I thought it was a thing, or it was definitely a thing now. His cheekbones were broad and sweeping, and his jaw was hard and firm. He had a wide mouth. Full lips—lips I knew could be downright expressive even though he wasn’t smiling as he stared down at me with those …
Wolf eyes.
This man had wolf eyes.
They were the palest blue, the color a striking contrast against his pupils. Pupils that were slightly thinner than a human’s, and almost vertical.
I knew immediately what he was.
Vampire.
~~~
“Ms. Patterson?” the vampire said in a voice that was deep and cultured. A voice that immediately set a rush of heat through me even though frigid air was rolling into the house and I wasn’t dressed to be in such weather.
Cold weather didn’t bother this vampire, though. He wore a simple black shirt and a pair of worn jeans. They didn’t feel heat and cold like we lowly humans did.
He cocked his head to the side and dipped his chin. Shadows formed under his eyes and lips—lips that were so incredibly full. A shiver tiptoed over my skin. His nostrils flared as if he scented something in the air as he stood there. He … waited.
For what, I had no idea.
“Are you going to let me in?” he asked, those pale eyes warming as I stared back at him, a bit dumbly. “Unless I’m at the wrong house and you’re not Ms. Amanda Patterson, realtor extraordinaire?”
I snapped out of it. Thankfully. “Darian St. Xavier?”
His head straightened as one side of his lips curled up. “In the flesh.”
Holy Christ on a church bell, it was him. My client. He was here and … I glanced over his shoulder. Yep. No Nigel.
“You seem surprised to see me. Did you not expect me to want to see a home I was about to purchase?”
That was a valid question. “Of course. This was just unexpected. I thought Nigel would be here.”
“Again, did you not expect me to see a home I was about to purchase with my own eyes?”
My fingers tightened around my phone. “Well, most of—”
“My kind?” he interrupted.
My eyes narrowed. “Most of my clients usually do not view the home with me. They trust their assistants.”
“I am not like most.”
“That I already know.”
That half grin spread. “And what does that imply, Ms. Patterson?”
It was only then did I realize what I’d said. I sucked in a sharp breath. “It—uh, does not imply anything.”
“Is that so?” he murmured, and a moment passed. “Am I allowed to view the house, Ms. Patterson?”
Shit.
I was still blocking the door.
Feeling off kilter, I nodded and stepped aside. Darian brushed by me, and I inhaled deeply, instantly regretting it. He smelled amazing. Like some kind of lush, foreign spice, and … and man.
Man?
My eyes widened as I closed the door behind him. How in the hell did someone smell like a man? I turned to my client. The plain black shirt stretched over his shoulders. Now I knew how someone smelled like a man.
What in the world was wrong with me?
Okay, I knew the answer. I hadn’t been around a man—er, vampire, whatever—that I found attractive in lord knows how long. Not even before the loveless and virtually sexless marriage ended, leaving me wondering if I just wasn’t cut out for intimacy and relationships, leaving me doubting why I’d gotten married and why I’d stayed with my ex-husband as long as I had.
And I found Darian to be hot. Having such a visceral reaction left me reeling, but I needed to pull it together. Show Darian this house, sell it to him, and close the deal. Then go home, put on my ratty sweatpants and old sweater, and eat all the Cheetos I had in the house.
It sounded like a plan.
Drawing in a shallow breath, I took like half a second to close my eyes and bitch slap myself. When I opened my eyes, Darian had turned to me, as silent as a ghost, and was staring at me. Our gazes collided and held. In my chest, my heart started throwing itself against my ribs.
“Do I make you nervous, Ms. Patterson?”
There was no suppressing the shiver that rolled its way down my spine. “No,” I quickly answered. “Of course not.”
Darian arched a brow like he knew better, and he sort of did, because he was partly correct in his assumption. What human wouldn’t be nervous to be alone with a vampire in the middle of nowhere? I grew up with them, as did my parents and my grandparents, and so on, so forth. They weren’t some mystical creature that lived in the shadows and imagination of man.
They were mystical creatures that could, in fact, go out in daylight, but not for long periods of time and definitely not in the morning or afternoon. They were simply a different, and often considered superior, species that had a sun sensitivity, beautiful DNA, fangs, and … a hankering for a glass of blood with their dinner instead of a glass of wine. Yes, vampires were super strong, and unbelievably so. Darian could snap my neck in a heartbeat, before I even knew what he was doing. They were also sort of immortal, having an aging process that allowed them to live hundreds and hundreds of years. The oldest living vampire just turned over fifteen hundred years old, and some of them could be dangerous.
There were attacks.
Vampires mad with bloodlust, having gone too long without feeding from a Vessel or visiting one of the numerous blood banks. And there were vampires who didn’t want their … food handed to them. Vampires who preferred the hunt.
But I wasn’t frightened of them.
I was more scared of some crazy dude who felt he hadn’t been told he was manly enough, getting pissed off at the world, and shooting up a mall than I was of a vampire. Humans were often far deadlier.
My nervousness really had little to do with him being a vampire. Whatever. My pharmacist was a vampire, as was my divorce attorney.
It mostly had to do with the fact I was attracted to him, and I didn’t know what to do with that, because I truly could not remember a time when I’d seen a man and just wanted him.
And that was wholly inappropriate for a multitude of reasons. First off, he was a client. Secondly, he was a stranger whose only correspondence consisted of my name and telling me a house didn’t suit his needs. I had never in my life had a one-night stand or had sex with someone I didn’t know. Thirdly and finally, vampires were rarely into humans. I couldn’t blame them. The males and females of their species were beautiful, and compared to them, humans were kind of like sloppy seconds.
A knowing look crept into his stunning features, and he stepped in, his large and powerful body suddenly crowding mine. His gaze drifted over me, from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head. His stare felt like a caress. My nipples hardened, and at once, I was grateful that my bra had some padding in it.
“Ms. Patterson …”
Warmth curled low in my belly. “What?” I demanded. Vampires couldn’t read minds.
His chin lowered, and suddenly he was in my space, breathing the same air as me. Every muscle in my body tensed, even ones I didn’t know I had, and it was like every cell of my being became aware of him.
Darian’s breath was minty as it coasted over my lips. “Are you going to show me the house, Amanda? Or are you going to continue staring at my mouth?”
My entire body jolted at the sound of my name coming out of him. I could feel how wide my eyes got. A different kind of warmth splashed across my face. “I’m not staring at your mouth.”
“You’re not?” That half grin was there again, tipping up one side of his lips.
Shit.
I was.
Dragging my gaze to his eyes, I realized that wasn’t any better. I quickly looked away. “I’m ready to show you the house.”
“Good.” He stepped aside, and I skirted past him. “Oh, and Amanda?”
Whoa.
He said my name like it was wrapped in the most decadent chocolate. Like I had no control over my body, I turned back to him.
“You can stare at my mouth all you like,” he demurred. “I do not mind at all.”
~~~
“This is the forth bedroom, the largest in comparison to the master bedroom,” I said as I opened the door. Somehow, I’d managed to pull myself together and start showing him the home. “All you would need to do is outfit the windows to block out as much light as you’d like.” I paused as he stood beside me. Warmth simmered in my veins. “It’s obviously enough room for family or guests.”
“I do not have a family that will be moving with me,” Darian replied as he checked out the empty room. Only one of the extra bedrooms was staged. “But these will do.”
I glanced at him. That was surprising.
“You look shocked,” he commented, stepping out of the room.
“Most of my clients have large families.” And that was true. Vampires lived a long time. They collected a lot of children, wives, husbands, and lovers. “And this is a rather large home.
“It is.” He followed me back down the wide hall.
I waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, I stalked forward. “At the end of the hall is the master bedroom.” I pushed open the double doors and stepped into the spacious bedroom staged with a large four-poster bed. “Nigel explained that you may want to use this or the space in the basement, but I think with the right window treatments, you’ll find that this will make an amazing room to—”
“To sleep in or to fuck in?”
Gasping, I turned to him. Yet again, he’d gotten close to me without me hearing him. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t find a single thing to say.
“I guess the room would be good for both,” he said, those pale eyes latching on to mine. “That bed would be good for it, especially the frame.”
“The frame?”
“Yes. Can you not see it?” His gaze left mine, traveling to the bed. I followed his stare. “On your knees, holding on to the wood while you’re taken from behind?”
The heat from earlier that had been simmering returned like a full furnace, blasting my entire body. Shock quickly followed. Vampires could be notoriously blunt, often crude. I guess that came with being alive for so long. One tended to get tired of certain social manners, but Jesus, had he really just said that? “I’m not quite sure I can picture that.”
“Do you need help visualizing it?” There was an almost mischievous tilt to his lips now.
“No,” I snapped, maybe too quickly. Okay. Definitely too quickly, because I didn’t need any help visualizing it.
I was totally being bombarded with images of exactly what he’d said.
Me on my knees, skirt hiked up to my waist, blouse open and bra unhooked. A flush of arousal swept through me, so potent my legs felt weak. There was no nameless, faceless man behind me, clutching my hips with fingers that dug into my skin. I saw Darian behind me, pounding into me, taking me like I’d never felt before as he bared his fangs and—
I sucked in a sharp breath. Oh my God, what was I thinking?
“Hmm,” he murmured. “Shame.”
Turning from the bed, I cleared my throat. “Are you ready to see the basement—”
“I’ll take the house.”
“What?” I whipped back around, studiously avoiding the bed. I was hearing things. “Come again?”
He was still staring at the bed, as if there were a couple entwined there, skin pressed against skin. Hands all over exposed flesh.
My face was burning.
“I said I wish to buy the house,” he repeated.
Hadn’t he said earlier that he wanted to see the house with his own eyes before he purchased? “But you haven’t even seen the basement or the walk-in safe—”
“Nigel has given me the details and I have a good … feeling about this house. I’ve seen enough to know this is the one.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He finally turned from the bed, and I almost wished he hadn’t. There was a stark intensity I found in his gaze that left me feeling exposed, stripped bare. “I have been alive for over four hundred years, Amanda. I’ve long since discovered what I like and what I don’t.”
“Four hundred years?” I gulped. “Goodness.”
His answering chuckle was deep and sexy. “To some of my kind that would be considered fairly young.”
I couldn’t even fathom what it was like to be alive that long and it hurt my brain to even begin to try, but I was curious. I couldn’t help myself. “Four hundred years old and no family?”
“Just a brother.”
Interesting. “Alive this long and you haven’t met someone?” I asked, unable to help myself.
He didn’t answer for a long moment and then he said, “Perhaps that is changing.”
~~~
“I just need you to sign these documents and I’ll put your offer in tonight.” I slid the stack of paper over to where Darian stood in what would hopefully be his new kitchen and offered him a pen.
His fingers brushed mine as he took it, lingered for what felt like a second too long, and then got down to signing his name. “When do you think we’ll hear something?”
I pressed the fingers he touched to my lower stomach, fiddling with the vase of flowers on the island with my other hand. “I think we’ll hear something tomorrow morning, afternoon by the latest. I’m confident they will accept our offer.”
“Perfect.” He finished signing the papers and then looked up at me through a shock of wavy black hair. “We should celebrate.”
I blinked once, and then twice. “Excuse me?”
“Celebrate. Over drinks. A thing that two or more people do when they have something good—”
“I know what celebrate means,” I cut in, eyes narrowing.
“Perfect,” he said again, straightening. His gaze dipped from my lips to my throat and then lower, to the ruffles of my shirt. “Then let’s have a drink.”
Frazzled by the suggestion, it took me a moment to answer. “There’s nothing to celebrate yet.”
“You just said you believe they will accept our offer.” He came around the island, approaching me, his movements full of inherent, lithe grace. “I would love to have a drink with you.”
“You would?” I stepped back, bumping into the marble counter behind me.
“You sound surprised.”
My heart slammed in my chest. “Well …”
“Well, what?” He caged me in, placing his hands on either side of the counter, beside my hips.
Normally I’d hate to have any male, no matter their species, get into my personal space like this, but this time I didn’t mind. Hell, my body was reacting the exact opposite way. It excited me. I struggled to answer. “I’m human and—”
“I like humans.” His head tilted. “I like you.”
My brows snapped together. “You don’t know me.”
“We’ve spoken for six months.”
“We’ve exchanged emails for six months,” I reminded him as I tried to not inhale his scent. “That were about one sentence—the same sentence. Over and over.”
“But it was an important sentence.”
I stared at him.
One shoulder lifted. “Then we can get to know each better over drinks.” His hand left the island and he touched the first ruffle on my blouse. “I know you want to say yes.”
“How do you know that?” The air between us became charged with tension. Tiny bumps rose all over my arms.
“I’m a vampire, Amanda.” He dipped his head again, and this time, I felt his breath near my throat. Instinct sparked. This was dangerous territory. I needed to tell him to back off. Establish boundaries. But I didn’t. Not even when his nose grazed the sensitive skin just below my ear. I shivered, feeling my body respond to his closeness, to the very real threat of his fangs being dangerously close to a very important artery. It should terrify me, but it didn’t. “I have a heightened sense of smell.”
I wasn’t sure where he was going with that.
And then I did.
“I scented your arousal from the moment you opened the door,” he continued, much to my horror. “It cloaked your skin. I could practically taste it.”
I jerked back against the counter, shock slamming into me. His gaze found mine.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s biology,” he said, his voice a low purr. “And if you were like me, you would’ve sensed the same thing I did when I saw you.”
“What would I have sensed?” I heard a voice ask—a voice that was mine but also wasn’t.
There was that sexy, deep chuckle again. “You would be blushing more than you are now. Those ruffles.” He drew his finger down the center of my blouse. “I really like them.”
“It’s just a blouse.”
“And that skirt?” He drew back just enough so I could see his eyes. “I never been happier than I am now that women’s fashion has evolved over the years. If it hadn’t, I would never know the enjoyment of how perfectly that skirt hugs your ass.”
Oh.
Oh, dear.
“Have drinks with me, Ms. Patterson,” he said again. “And let’s just see where the night takes us.”
The first thought I had when I saw him resurfaced. I’ll never be the same. It was still crazy and cheesy and even more crazy. But as I stared into Darian’s wolf eyes, I found myself not wanting to do what I would normally do which would be to turn him down because I knew what having drinks often led to. I should go home and change into my sweats like I planned instead of facing the possibility of something more. Something I was rarely ever interested in.
Until now.
Because the idea of going home caused the feeling of discontent to grow.
I couldn’t help it. My gaze drifted down, over what I imagined was a hard chest and even harder stomach. My pulse picked up in various parts of my body.
His nostrils flared again and the hue of his eyes deepened. “Ms. Patterson?”
I could say no.
I should say no.
But I’d never felt this way before. I never thought I’d ever feel this way for a vampire.
So, I didn’t do what was expected.
I said, “Okay.”
~~~
Drinks turned into more.
It started at a restaurant in the city and somehow ended with Darian following me to my apartment that was about five blocks from the restaurant. I couldn’t even blame the wine. I’d only had two glasses, so when he asked if he could come home with me, I knew exactly what I was saying when I said yes.
During the drinks, I did get to know Darian. He was from a small town in Italy. He emigrated to the U.S. in the early 1900s. He was a builder, an obviously successful one since he had no budget for his house and was making a cash offer. He hailed from a family of born vampires, and his brother still lived in Italy. During the drinks, Darian got to know me, and when it started to get late, I was reluctant to say goodbye.
And that was about when he asked if I wanted him to come home with me. And that was about when I decided to see where drinks led and said yes. And that was about when I had a mini panic attack as I opened the door and led him into my apartment.
What was I doing?
Was I really going through with this?
Did I wear nice panties tonight?
Hand trembling, I turned on the light as we stepped into the foyer. “Would you like something to drink?’ I asked as I stripped off my jacket.
“That’s not what I would like.”
I turn to him, my arm outstretched to open the closet door to hang up my jacket and purse. Air leaked out of my lungs as my gaze met his. “No?” I whispered.
“No.” He stepped into me, taking my jacket and purse. He dropped them on the floor. I opened my mouth to protest, but then his mouth was on mine, and there was no protesting.
This was so happening.
Darian dipped his head, brushing his lips over mine. It was a soft kiss. A questioning one, and I had an answer without even thinking about it. I opened my mouth, inviting him in. The minty taste of him was something I’d never forget.
With that, his kiss turned urgent, deepening. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the raw intensity of this kiss. My senses overloaded as his tongue slipped over mine. When he finally did lift his head, I was thrilled to see that he was just as affected.
He smiled, and then with one impressive surge, he had me backed against the entryway wall. “I’m going to ruin this blouse.”
“Okay,” I breathed, realizing in that very moment I was not the Amanda who could live without sex. In that moment, I felt like I’d die if I didn’t get his hands, his mouth, his cock—everything in me.
And then he did, ripping it right open, and the image he’d painted in the bedroom of the house he was going to buy, the one I’d found for him, came to life in a way. My bra became unhooked and my skirt ended up at my waist. I didn’t even know what had happened to my panties.
A stuttered heartbeat later, he was on his knees, and his mouth—oh, God—his mouth was on me, licking and sucking my clit. My entire body clenched as hot, tight shudders racked through me.
Whoa, he’d had a lot of years to perfect what he was doing, and he really, really did it well.
My hands went to his shoulders first and then my fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair. A keening, unfamiliar sound erupted from me. “Oh, God …”
He captured my flesh with his mouth, parting my lips with firm, determined strokes of his tongue. I cried out as he sucked me like I was the sweetest nectar, his very life force. And then I felt the sharp point of his fang, and raw sensations swept through me as the orgasm hit me hard and fast.
Never in my life had I had an orgasm that quick, that hard that didn’t involve a two-hundred-dollar sex toy.
Darian wasn’t done. “Perfect.”
Oh my.
Gripping my hips, he rose in front of me. Hunger burned in those pale blue eyes—hunger for release and something darker. My breath caught. Was he—
He lifted me like I weighed nothing. Instinct took over, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Bedroom,” he all but growled.
I clasped his shoulders, panting like I had done more than just stand there and let him give me a mind-blowing orgasm. “At the end of the hall, last door.”
Darian looked to the left and then started walking, his mouth on mine, his taste mingling with my own. The man was pure magic because he had my bedroom door open and me on the bed in record time. Our clothing came off in a heady rush.
It had never been like this before.
There was no hesitation. No worrying about what I’d look like or if he’d find me attractive. I didn’t overthink a single thing. This was all about feeling.
It was raw.
It was freeing.
And then he was naked in front of me, and goodness, I didn’t know if it was because he was a vampire, but he was large and thick and … just wow.
He reached down, palming himself as he put one knee on the bed, lining up his mouth with mine. He circled his hand loosely around the base of my throat. “Do you want this?”
I felt my cheeks blast with heat. My ex never talked like that, but my lips were moving and I was speaking. “Yes,” I breathed against his mouth. Hot, sweet darts of fire sped through my blood. My lashes lowered as his hand slipped further, gently cupping me between the thighs.
“Great.” He kissed me and then pulled back as he pushed one finger inside me and then another. “Oh yeah, you want this.”
I did. I really did.
His tongue slid over my lips, then inside, matching the slow, languid thrust with his fingers. Tremors started in my stomach. My muscles quivered.
He tormented me until I moved my hips against his hand, but any time I tried to get more, to take control, he nipped my lip and then my throat with his wickedly sharp teeth.
A small whimper escaped me as another release came out of nowhere, startling me. Darian pulled me to him, holding me close as my body shuddered. Sweat coated his skin, his muscles taut and rigid from holding back. And then he turned me around, easing me onto my side. He used his thigh to separate mine. I arched back, grinding my rear against the length of his erection.
“I think you want this badly.”
“I do,” I admitted.
His warm breath danced over my cheek. He cupped my breast, running his thumb over the hard nipple. “Then you’re going to get it.”
And I did.
Darian slowly slid into me, inch by inch, moving so deep that I felt like I’d come apart in a shower of sparks. The steady friction sent my body blazing. Slow and steady strokes soon became not enough. More—I wanted more. I moved my hips, and his low growl had my blood pressure skyrocketing.
“Harder,” I said, whispering something I had never whispered during sex before. “Please.”
The things he whispered in my ear as he thrust into me, each stroke harder and faster than the one before it, could probably be classified as depraved, but they excited me. Every thrust mounted my pleasure and deepened my cries.
Then I felt his ragged breath on my throat, right over my vein. “Are you …?”
“What, Amanda?”
I started to spasm around his cock. “Bite me?”
He kissed the side of my neck. “Not yet.”
Yet?
Darian caught my chin then and forced my head back, claiming my mouth with his as he spent himself.
Aftershocks still rocked through me as he rolled me onto my back, still hard between my legs. My eyes widened. “Is that a vampire thing?”
“It’s an Amanda thing,” he answered, and then his hips plunged into me, and I cried out.
I lost track of time and how many times he brought me to the edge of release and then toppled me over it. And when his mouth wasn’t on mine, he wandered out into the kitchen, found some cheese and crackers, and brought them back. We ate in bed, naked while we chatted, and then he took me from behind again, my hands on the headboard and him behind me, pumping furiously.
Never once did he bite me.
Sometime later, when my muscles felt like mush and I could barely keep my eyes open, he pressed a kiss to my cheek.
“I have to leave,” he said, dragging my chin to meet his gaze.
The sun would be rising in an hour or so. “I know.”
His thumb drifted over the curve of my chin. “I don’t want to.”
Surprise flickered through me. My initial urge was to dismiss it or play his response off, but I pushed through that and I really opened up. Spoke the truth. “I don’t want you to either.”
A warm smile played over his lips. “Then we’re on the same page.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. If wanting to sleep after having the most amazing, mind-blowing sex was being on the same page, then we most definitely were on the same page.
Darian kissed me softly and then lifted up, shifting so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “I like your apartment,” he said as he stood up.
I rolled onto my side, treated with a nice view of his behind. “It’s a matchbox compared to the house you just put an offer in on.”
He cast a grin over his shoulder. “But it’s you.”
That was another statement that surprised me. I glanced around my dark bedroom, unsure of what he saw that made it me. Then again, he seemed to know me better than I knew myself.
He found his jeans and pulled them on. “I want to see you again.”
“You will if you come to the closing.” I sat up, holding the sheet to my breasts.
His back tensed and then he turned to me. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s not?”
Darian stared at me a moment and then he was suddenly right beside me, one hand planted on the bed beside my hip. “I know this isn’t something you usually do—the having sex thing, the fact I’m a vampire thing, so I’m going to say this again. Give you another chance to respond differently. I want to see you again. Do you want to see me again?”
My heart thudded off my ribs. I’d be lying to myself and him if I said no. “Yes.”
“Perfect.”
I shivered. The last time he said perfect was when he had tasted me.
He growled low in his throat. “You’re making it really hard for me to leave.”
“Sorry?”
Darian chuckled as he tilted his head and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Let’s do dinner tomorrow.”
Somehow, I managed to not repeat his request like I’d never heard of the concept of having dinner before. It’s not that I wasn’t surprised for various obvious reasons, and again, my natural response was to withdraw, shut down. Dinner was even more intimate than drinks, and intimacy was … God, it was something that I wanted with him.
“Ms. Patterson?” His tone was light, teasing.
I drew in a shallow breath. “Dinner feels like it’s a … start of something.”
“It is.”
There was a delicious twisting motion in my stomach. A start of something. I didn’t know what this was a start of, but I was willing to take a chance, a risk. And wasn’t that what life was all about, for humans and vampires? “That’s … perfect.”
He folded his hand around the nape of my neck. “Yeah, it is.”
I felt myself smile before I realized what I was doing and I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his as I placed my hands on his chest. “Does that mean I’ll be on the menu?”
“You’re going to be the main course.”
The End.